"You just haven’t met the right one yet" a friend reassures me, over what I’m beginning to assume is an intervention-based brunch.
Had I known my dating life would be the topic of conversation I would have ordered my breakfast to go, but sitting across from her uncompromising stare, it’s clear that there’s no tapping out of this ring.
I’m not here to enjoy the holy matrimony of smashed avo and feta it seems, but rather to unpack why it is that at the ripe old age of 25 I don’t date, or f**k or show any interest in my vagina’s social life.
Watch: What is vaginismus? Post continues below.
When faced with questions regarding my sexual expeditions, I am the reigning queen of the infamous smoke bomb; excusing myself to the bathroom the moment I feel the conversation veering south.
What’s the craziest place you’ve gotten down and dirty? Gotta go. Favourite position? See ya later. Don’t even get me started on hen’s parties – there’s a special place in hell for 'Never Have I Ever.'
I have absolutely nothing scandalous to add to the conversation, unless you find the inner workings of my pelvic floor muscles spicy.
But I’m a 25-year-old woman, in what is undoubtedly the perkiest boobed years of my life and I can’t keep running from the topic of sex.
The truth is, my sex life has been a pain, both literally and figuratively speaking, for a minute now.
I have Vaginismus – a condition in which a woman’s pelvic floor muscles involuntarily spasm in response to vaginal penetration – and it’s about as fun as it sounds.
The condition has both psychological and physical factors, that work in unison to make sex an experience you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy, let alone yourself.
Symptoms vary but I believe the medical description to go as follows: burns like the fiery pits of hell and aches like Billy Ray Cyrus' heart (disclaimer: some words have been added for affect.) And that is for those who are able to achieve penetration at all.
Many things were shocking about my diagnosis.