Close Menu
Honi Soit
    Facebook X (Twitter) Instagram
    Trending
    • Akinola Davies Jr. on My Father’s Shadow, Namesakes, and Nostalgia: An Interview
    • Into the Blue: Underwater Robots Unveil the Secrets of Norfolk Island’s Deep
    • Ancient Reef Cores Reveal Fragile Future for the Great Barrier Reef
    • Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, and Rameau walk into the Oldest Sydney Church
    • The Raftsmen: An Interview with Dr. Chadden Hunter — Sydney Film Festival Exclusive
    • The Anarchy 1138-53: to play or to plunder?
    • The Wrong Gods Review: Sacred Soil and Shifting Futures
    • Romeo & Juliet Review: Where Love Lingers and Time Unfolds
    • About
    • Print Edition
    • Student Journalism Conference 2025
    • Writing Comp
    • Advertise
    • Locations
    • Contact
    Facebook Instagram X (Twitter) TikTok
    Honi SoitHoni Soit
    Friday, June 13
    • News
    • Analysis
    • Culture
    • Opinion
    • University
    • Features
    • Perspective
    • Investigation
    • Reviews
    • Comedy
    • Student Journalism Conference 2025
    Honi Soit
    Home»Perspective

    If it Hurts, See Someone

    By AnonymousApril 5, 2015 Perspective 4 Mins Read
    Share
    Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Pinterest Email

    When most women try to have sex with a guy for the first time, their hymen stretches. Mine tore into several pieces and formed scar tissue. On top of that, my first time was so awkward that I ended up forming a defect—a small span of skin across the base of my vagina—that would rip every time I subsequently had sex. This wasn’t discomfort, it was excruciating.

    The two friends I talked to about the pain during sex told me that it was normal for it to hurt at the start.  So I continued to have sex regularly even though the pain didn’t go away. I never actively went to the doctor. Partly because I didn’t want to discuss sex with a relative stranger, but mainly because I assumed that the pain was permanent, or at least that there was nothing I could do about it.

    I didn’t realise that what was happening to me was unusual until I went to a GP for a routine pap smear in early 2014, over a year after I lost my virginity, and screamed and cried throughout the entire thing.  I paid my bill at reception with a tear stained, red face.

    Pap smears are not supposed to hurt at all.

    My GP referred me to a gynaecologist, who wore a necklace and earring set with a matching ovary design.  She told me that each of my defects were fixable. A hymenectomy could remove the scar tissue remnants of my shattered hymen, and a Fenton’s procedure could remove the tiny piece of excess skin. I had both procedures done.

    I couldn’t have sex for eight weeks after surgery, and my boyfriend was conspicuously absent during those weeks. We had an ill-timed, but necessary, break up, the real tragedy of which was that I didn’t have anyone I knew or trusted to try sex with after I healed.

    While the procedures went well, fear wasn’t so easily excised. Even though the obstructions weren’t there anymore, I still expected pain. This meant that when I tried to have sex, my muscles tightened up, causing pain—a self-fulfilling prophecy.

    I was referred to a sex therapist, whose solution was to make me insert a  sequence of glass, penis-shaped cylinders in front of her. Maybe sex therapists are supposed to make people feel more open, but I’ve never felt more discomfort or shame in my life. Predictably, I couldn’t get past number three.

    After eight months of agony and awkwardness, I finally feel absolutely safe and comfortable with my current boyfriend. I am certain he won’t hurt me or push me beyond my limits, and I can now stay calm enough, and consciously relax my muscles enough, to have sex without pain. But it has to be regular. If not, I lose my confidence, my muscles seize up and I have to start from scratch.

    I keep on asking myself why I consented to sexual experiences, knowing that they were going to be agonizing. I would often find myself bleeding after sex, with no explanation. Even wearing jeans exacerbated a constant post-sex pain, and I’d wince whenever I sat down. But I never said no.

    I did feel some pleasure in tandem with the pain, but that wasn’t it. I said yes in the past because I didn’t want to be a disappointment, I didn’t want to be a bad girlfriend and I didn’t want to be dumped. I thought that this was what sex was, and so I should get used to it, because men don’t love frigid women, and I didn’t want to be alone.

    I know for a fact I would not have felt obligated to just ‘deal with it’ if I had known there was another possibility. But my entire sexual life had been pain, and without a comparative, how could I make a choice with any integrity?

    Now that I know what I was missing, I am deeply angry that it took me so long to seek treatment. I am angry I never said no, and that my silence apparently always meant a wholehearted ‘yes’. I am angry, and I am sad, because no one told me I could do anything about my situation.

    If you ever have pain during sex, go to the doctor and don’t settle for the first medical opinion you hear.  And to be honest? If all of those medical experts fail, the best treatment you can have is a partner who you can speak to, who listens, who wipes your tears away, and adopts your burdens as their own.

    If you have to maintain the façade of being a perfect woman attached to a flawless, perpetually ready vagina in order for your partner to love you, he or she is not worth it.

    Image credit: http://hellopoetry.com/icriedoverspilledmilk/

    Keep Reading

    The Music of Memory

    Turn Away Your Mirrors and Close the Doors

    What Was Your Name?

    Do you dream with your phone?

    Authenticating My Authenticity to Inauthentic Authenticators

    Red-Haired Phantasies: The So-Called Manic Pixie Dream Girl

    Just In

    Akinola Davies Jr. on My Father’s Shadow, Namesakes, and Nostalgia: An Interview

    June 11, 2025

    Into the Blue: Underwater Robots Unveil the Secrets of Norfolk Island’s Deep

    June 11, 2025

    Ancient Reef Cores Reveal Fragile Future for the Great Barrier Reef

    June 11, 2025

    Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, and Rameau walk into the Oldest Sydney Church

    June 11, 2025
    Editor's Picks

    Part One: The Tale of the Corporate University

    May 28, 2025

    “Thank you Conspiracy!” says Capitalism, as it survives another day

    May 21, 2025

    A meditation on God and the impossible pursuit of answers

    May 14, 2025

    We Will Be Remembered As More Than Administrative Errors

    May 7, 2025
    Facebook Instagram X (Twitter) TikTok

    From the mines

    • News
    • Analysis
    • Higher Education
    • Culture
    • Features
    • Investigation
    • Comedy
    • Editorials
    • Letters
    • Misc

     

    • Opinion
    • Perspective
    • Profiles
    • Reviews
    • Science
    • Social
    • Sport
    • SRC Reports
    • Tech

    Admin

    • About
    • Editors
    • Send an Anonymous Tip
    • Write/Produce/Create For Us
    • Print Edition
    • Locations
    • Archive
    • Advertise in Honi Soit
    • Contact Us

    We acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land, the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation. The University of Sydney – where we write, publish and distribute Honi Soit – is on the sovereign land of these people. As students and journalists, we recognise our complicity in the ongoing colonisation of Indigenous land. In recognition of our privilege, we vow to not only include, but to prioritise and centre the experiences of Indigenous people, and to be reflective when we fail to be a counterpoint to the racism that plagues the mainstream media.

    © 2025 Honi Soit
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms
    • Accessibility

    Type above and press Enter to search. Press Esc to cancel.