August 15, 2002 - 3:09 PM
Warning: Frank discussion on sex to follow.
Long discussions were had last night. Long. Big. In depth. Revealing. Even educational.
SK's fears have been alayed, so if I don't get sex soon, I will fucking kill him. No... I'll fuck him... then I'll kill him. I gotta get my money's worth somehow.
I wouldn't let him get off the topic of sex. Not at all, and he was getting frustrated. Poor baby, now he knows how I feel. Kinda. Well, not really.
I've come to the conclusion that there's many kinds of frustration. There's the frustration of not having sex for ages. This frustration is more an aching need than an annoyance, but it turns into an anger-riling-blood-steaming annoyance if carried on for more than three months, which in my case, it has. Trust me, the blood's been boiling. Then you've got the frustration at someone kind of frustration that comes with the territory of still getting to know someone elses really fucking annoying habbits. Then there's the kind of frustration where one person just will not shut up and you don't want to hear it anymore.
That was the kind of frustration that SK was feeling last night. Heh. I felt somewhat vindicated as he rolled his eyes heavenward - but he was not getting let off easy - not after laughing long and heartily over the sound of desolation in my voice in a comment that I made.
He then gave me an ultimatum - to which I promptly cut him off and told him to get fucked right there. I don't do deals. This is our relationship he was trying to play with. However when he went silent, I rolled over (we had literally fell onto the bed when we'd gotten home from work and decided to whine at eachother, which we would rather do in the relative comfort of bed under a warm doona than huddle in the loungeroom which was freezing) and asked him what his deal was.
If I could guarantee him that I wouldn't get pregnant (easily), then he would happily make me legless again as he first did when he first arrived from Perth.
This was a task I was up to.
I went through everything. And for once I wasn't embarrassed being that blunt with him.
I explained my endo to him completely and how difficult it actually makes getting pregnant. That was a good thing as he had no idea, so I explained what it was (and when I say I hurt I am not fucking lying and begging sympathy! I HURT).
Then I went through the contraceptives available to me.
I explained what an IUD was - and that it's 100% safe only because no man wants his sensitive member getting pricked and slashed up by bits of copper.
Then I explained the diaphram ('scuse the bad spelling) and how it gets put up there and that it's not permanent and that I have to whack it up there every time I want nookie. He didn't fancy the idea of a trampoline-like sensation against his willy either, so that option was way out (thank god).
Then came the sponge, only a vaguely better version of the above, but neither of us fancied the mess of that either.
So, then it came down to condoms. I hate them. He loathes them. It's like taking a bath with your socks on. Yuck. So while this is probably the best option, we're not going there. I find nothing LESS sexy then stopping mid-procedings to get one of the little fuckers on him. They're slippery, smell bad and frankly - the smell of burning rubber offends me. *wink*
So then it came down to the Pill of the Contraceptive variety. I am on a very good version of these things. They don't make me sick and my hair stays in my head where it should. Every other version I've taken I've had bad reactions to and for over 2 years I dealt with hairloss. Not doing that again.
Anyway, I pulled out the little leaflet thingie and read out everything on it - proving to him that I risk blood clots, strokes, obesity (*LMAO*), high blood pressure, migraines, DVT, excessive sweating, runny shits and more JUST so I lessen the risk of getting pregnant.
Girls, it's amazing what we actually put ourselves through to stop doing what's natural.
And then I read - and I quote - "If 1000 women were taking MyPills correctly for exactly one year, 2 of those women may fall pregnant."
That's 0.2% there - 0.2% risk of getting pregnant.
And then I told him if he's that scared, then just PULL OUT. I don't care. Usually by the time he's ready to let go, I'm just about dead from all of mine (he is that good - I lie not, hence my absolute frustration at him) so I couldn't care less.
It was funny telling him all this stuff and watching him digest all the information. I asked him if he'd ever had sex-ed before. He said he got sex-ed in the way things work, but not in the prevention of what happens when things work and do their job properly.
He'd never heard of an IUD.
Poor baby. He'll never be the same again.
