For the past year or so, my gut has left me alone. I was formally diagnosed with IBS a few months ago, after repeated and increasingly uncomfortable tests to make sure it wasn’t Crohn’s or UC or something new that’s going to end up named after me. A less stressful job that I quite like, some tablets with friendly bacteria (which makes me seem like a wanker, but just go with it), and – dare I say it? – drinking more water (it is free at work) have all helped, and whereas I do still have issues with my stomach, attacks are less common, and when they do happen, rarely debilitating.
Mind you, when they happen, they really happen.
As you may have realised from my last few posts, I haven’t had sex for a very long time, and non-penetrative sexual contact (while something that has happened, rarely) is the most I’m doing. I’m not going to push the issue, or talk about it much here, but very little has been happening of late. The other day, however, my girlfriend started talking about getting some new sex toys, and my interest was piqued.
I was in the bathroom when she asked it.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m on the toilet.”
“Okay, I was thinking… after you’re finished, maybe do you… do you want to play?”
The fact that I’d noticed our Doxy had been moved from the corner of the room to her side of the bed floated into my head.
“Play? Play! Yes! Yes, I want to… I’ll be with you in an… aaaaaaargh…”
“What is it?”
Of course, that was a lie. It was something. The instant she had mentioned play, my entire abdominal system compressed into a ball with roughly the density of a neutron star. I leaned forwards, stuffed my fist in my mouth and screamed silently.
I kept promising, of course, that I would be with her soon. Zounds, but I wanted to be. The problem was that, with my gut deciding to have a go at shibari without having consulted me first, I could barely talk, never mind move. I couldn’t wield a Doxy, wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on using my fingers, and if it came to oral sex (DEAR GOD I MISS GIVING ORAL SEX AND IT HAS BEEN SO LONG), I doubt I’d have had the focus to give as much time and attention as I usually do, what with my body experiencing an internal French Revolution, complete with guillotine.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I… aaaaaaaaargh…“
“It’s okay – you stay in there as long as you need – we don’t have to…”
“No, I want to… it’s just… aaaaaaaargh, fuck!“
“Seriously! Take care of yourself first!”
It’s not really like I had much of a choice in that situation. So that’s where I stayed, sitting, for the next hour or so, continually swearing at the entirety of my gastro-intestinal system and wishing, not for the first time, that I could just rip it out, if only temporarily.
She did bring me a glass of water, though, so it’s nice to see that she doesn’t consider me a complete disappointment.