You'd think as a serial dater (someone who spends the majority of her adult life dating different people), I'd constantly be upping my dating game, looking for the best strategies and hacks to make the hell that is dating into something... fun. And productive. And painless.
And look. I usually tell myself that dating for 10 years has made me an expert in my field. Nothing surprises me anymore (and being a straight woman, a lot of men are full of surprises).
But then, roughly once a year, there's a moment of shock and confusion where I find myself on the receiving end of a new dating strategy that completely changes the game and how I approach it.
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Around two years ago, I was dating a guy who ticked all the right boxes. He was kind, smart and funny. He was a little late on our first date because he was spending time with his grandmother at a nursing home (I know. DREAM MAN). At the time, I was dating for fun and definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship at all.
We dated for about three months and naturally, I started to like him more and more. I deleted all my dating apps, I stopped seeing other people. I told my therapist about him.
He would constantly talk about our future together and told me he loved me. I wasn’t there yet, but he assured me I could say it when I was ready.
Everything about our relationship was perfect. Well, almost perfect. During this time I had developed a condition called vaginismus. It’s when a woman's vaginal walls contract to such a small size, it makes penetrative sex very painful.