Peyronie’s disease

Peyronie’s disease. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it? Two days shy of our 6 month anniversary? If you look it up, prognosis isn’t good. It’s like a cross between atrophy and severe arthritis. In your dick. When we first began dating I thought “It’s just E.D.  E.D. is treatable”. But it’s not “just” E.D. He’s got E.D. on top of extreme curvature and shrinkage. It’s three inches of gnarled, flaccid dick that is never ever going to be able to physically “get in there”.

If you ask me if knowing this 6 months ago would have changed my mind about pursing the relationship, damn right it would. So now what? For couples too emotionally invested to cut it off, what happens? Do they become swingers? Does he just look the other way while I go scratch an itch for a vigorous deep fuck every few months? I told him if he was with a woman who only cared about cunnilingus, he’d be set. As I said before, it’s a nice appetizer but that’s not a satisfying meal. Neither is a vibrator. And after the trauma of sodomy in my early twenties, ain’t nothing going up there that isn’t a real cock.

His tag line in most of his messages to me is “I’m not giving up on us” and I’m ashamed to admit I’ve begun to resent that. Because this isnt working for me. Yes, I love him and if we could have sex, I might have even seen myself spending the rest of my life with him. But I told him when we first began dating that sex could be a deal-breaker. Like an asshole, I’ve had to remind him over the months whenever he got silent on the subject. Typical ostrich of a man: stick your head in the sand and pretend everything is great. We can just spend the rest of our lives in a sexless, cuddly marriage.

My trusted agent (who fucks around about once or twice a year because he’s desperate and married to a woman who wont have sex with him) says, “You’re not a bad (horny) person. You don’t break up with someone for frivolous reasons. This reason is not frivolous.”

What would you do? I’m tempted to open up the comments on this to get a stranger’s advice because I’m lost. Youre young. At your sexual peak. Sex still vacillates between the number one and number two position in importance in a relationship. And the person who has been better to you than anyone ever has been cannot give you sex. What do you do? Cheat? Break up? Live out the rest of your life in stoic celibacy?

If you chose the latter then clearly sex is not that important to you.

He seems to think that we can work around it. With toys. He says “We can work on us” and I resent that statement to. There’s nothing to “Work on”! Your dick is broken! This might work for you but it doesn’t work for ME! I’ve been masterbating through most of our 6 month relationship to men other than him because what is the point in fantasizing about being fcked hard by someone incapable of it? Again, I’m ashamed to admit (and I’d never admit it to him) that I’m not even sexually attracted to him anymore.

Do I sound like an asshole because I feel like one. A selfish asshole.

I recall a guy I dated briefly a few years back. We had sex once and he was so small he couldn’t get inside me. I joked later that it was a brief lesbian relationship. Because while I debated whether or not his lack-of-dick was a deal-breaker, he decided he was too afraid of me and my “job”, so he disappeared and I was let off the hook.

Another guy a few years before that, we started out dating and within the first two attempts of having sex I thought “No, no no this is not going to work”. But every time I tried having that conversation, he flipped out and threatened to kill himself. Bipolar, raging alcoholic and pathological liar but other than that he’s a great guy! And I cared about him enough that I didn’t want to risk him doing anything stupid. So I stayed with him, celibate for. almost three years until HE was ready to move on. Now he’s married with two kids and we’re still friends. But I wasted years of my life doing what I thought was the right thing. For someone else.

I don’t have years. I don’t want to be in a celibate relationship. I don’t want to be in a lesbian relationship. I don’t want to be in an unsatisfying sexual relationship.

This isn’t working for ME.

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“I like that you’re broken, broken like me” ~LovelyTheBand

I feel every bit of my ill-fitting, worn out clothes today. Dangling threads, scuffed heels and hair as overgrown and unkempt as my yard. I’m dressed in insignificance with all the authority and value of a temp receptionist. But my new coworkers have learned to come to me for IT-related problems because it’s usually a simple fix and I’m much faster than waiting on a national-level “trouble ticket” to process. So today I once again found myself crawling on the floor under desks in a skirt, fiddling with…cables and computer equipment (you filthy bastards). And it was the only part of the day I didnt mind.  The only part I felt “useful”.

 I returned to prison after 4 days on parole, hiking in the woods with my dog and my struggling, unhappy boyfriend, CK. We think alike (I mean, CK and I. Although yes, perhaps my dog and I as well). And we are both martyrs for love. Judgmental and brooding, probably better off alone. I decided to burn what little vacation time I had accrued from this miserable job and disappear into the Quad State area (NC, TN, GA, SC borders). CK wanted to come so I sent him my proposed hiking list, based on limited time and weather conditions. He was an excited, “thumbs up!” But buying hiking shoes does not make you a hiker. Day one, we were only 6 miles into a walk in the woods when he began to fade, legs cramped, dizziness set in…I took his pack from him and force fed him protein bars, bananas, water and candy. I found him a walking stick but it was serious enough that I ran ahead to find a signal and called the nearest ranger station. I told them I just wanted to make sure I had a good number in case he couldn’t make it out on his own as we were still miles from the car. “Just keep puttin one foot in front of the other, he’ll make it out” the kindly ranger drawled. As CK leaned against a tree I told him, “Your lungs might give out, your heart might give out, but your legs will not give out. Keep moving”.

Days later, both his feet were taped and I announced I was going on a trail that he could not follow. Hell, he could barely walk. And I needed one day unencumbered. I climbed over rocks and fallen trees up a steeper incline to enjoy views unobstructed by tourists. Alone on a hilltop: me, my dog, and the wind.

I thought, “This isn’t working out”. I admitted on the drive home, I don’t want him tagging along to dances or hikes or shows out of obligation. Seeing the boredom and disappointment on his face kills my own joy. If he’d rather be at a movie then go to a movie! I don’t need company. I’ve been doing this living thing alone for years.
“I don’t need the added stress of a relationship!” I thought resentfully.

When you’re drowning, you cut loose of whatever weight you can forfeit: the job and school are not optional. Everything else – dancing, friends, family, boyfriends – those I can turn loose, at least until I finish school.

And I wish sex was off the table. I wish we’d never gone there; I wish we had just agreed to friendship. The pressure, the disappointment. I wish I could escape it.
“You’re tighter than a new buttonhole” he complains. I put on my best Gandalf impression and declare “You shall not pass!”  Or perhaps he can throw incantations at it, “speak friend and enter” my near-virginal vaginal gates.

He’s only had two rounds of GainWave and no change yet. His stem is still as broken as ever. I admitted to him, under these circumstances, sex means more work for me, and requires more time that I don’t have right now. So either I can slap on lube, get on my knees and give him a warm hole or he goes to bed hungry. And I’m starving but I’m a sexual camel and used to long stretches of abstinence. But I don’t ever want to fake it again. If only one of us is getting off, so be it.

At least for now.

But I’ve been saying that for months.