OMG. I think it’s happened. The shingle is out. Closed for business. Not in service. Gone fishing. Will return… never? I’ve recently been informed by a close friend that, due to my lack of sex, my vagina — let’s call her vajayjay — could be closing up.
Apparently, it’s a real thing. Not just something I heard in Nancy Meyers’ movie, It’s Complicated — watch it!
My friend isn’t a doctor, nor has she played one on TV, but she’s super smart. She knows things. So, now I must face the fact: At age 57, my vajayjay is in danger. As in, DANGER OF CLOSING UP!
FRIEND: “How did it get this way?”
ME: “Well, it’s pretty simple,” I reply. “I stopped having sex.”
For the record, I’m not doing it on purpose. I decided (five years ago… maybe six?) that one-night stands just weren’t for me. I’m not wired that way. I was raised to believe that having sex with someone means that you are sharing yourself with another person in an intimate, special, meaningful and lasting way.
Turn back the clock to the 1930s, folks, ’cause out of my very conservative upbringing, that was one of the few things that stuck. Not “don’t smoke or chew or go out with boys who do” (I’ve done all three), or “early bird catches the worm” (I’m a notorious sleeper-inner) or the real whopper: don’t have affairs, coupled with don’t have an affair with a married man (check and check).
I purposefully waited to get married before having sex. So, after being with one man for over 25 years, I experienced what one might call a “sexual awakening.” That first summer after my divorce was the kick-off. In other words, I had a lot of sex. And I had it indiscriminately. Young, old, short, tall, drunk, sober, beach, bathrooms, hotel rooms, back seats of cars — you name it, I was game.
The last time was with someone I met on Tinder. We had sex a couple of times — usually dinner, drinks and back to my place — on date number one. I knew there was no connection; it was just sex. But it was after our second time that I discovered the difference between having chemistry and connection and just having sex. And for me, I realized that was a game changer.
JJ was my age, lived nearby, was divorced, had two kids, was good-looking, in decent shape, nicely dressed, had a job and owned a car. If you’ve spent any time whatsoever participating in online dating, you will understand why I list those things as qualities. What JJ lacked, however, was a personality and the ability to complete the “job” after a few drinks. The latter was not as important, but still.
Suffice it to say, after the third “date,” I had a sit-down with myself and a good long talk.
“Look,” I said to myself, “this isn’t working out so hot, is it? Face it, Merritt. You want — no need — to actually like a man to fully enjoy giving and receiving sex. You have experienced both. You did the research. Homework complete. (I gave myself an A+ for really throwing myself into the assignment.) But it isn’t you.”
It was a fairly lengthy discussion between me, myself and I, you get the drift. I decided right then and there to get off dating apps and leave my fate up to destiny. Daily manifestations took the place of daily swiping. I’ve spent the last five, maybe six years trying to get out more, meet people in the “wild” and flirt more. The universe must be trusted. I will meet someone who I don’t have to necessarily marry but can have fun with and enjoy good sex with. You can see where this is going. Fast forward to this past Thursday night — drinks with my dear friend, let’s call her Sherry, ’cause that’s her name.
Getting back to the current state of my vajayjay, I imagine you asking how this topic would come up over drinks with Sherry. I shared with her that lately, at work, I have been experiencing a strange sensation while sitting at my desk. It’s a tingly sensation “down there.” It feels like I’m being aroused — albeit a distant memory of what it used to feel like. But it’s there, and I do remember. I just don’t understand why it’s happening at my desk during the workday, writing reports, reviewing data and researching topics seldom associated with sexual arousal.
When I joked with Sherry about what was happening, I said it was either me being horny or maybe my vajayjay was closing up (Ha-ha! What a silly thought!). She was not laughing and told me it was a very real and serious thing. She knew someone that it had happened to! According to the Mayo Clinic, "vaginal atrophy (atrophic vaginitis) is thinning, drying and inflammation of the vaginal walls that may occur when your body has less estrogen. Vaginal atrophy occurs most often after menopause. For many women, vaginal atrophy not only makes intercourse painful but also leads to distressing urinary symptoms." Please see a doctor if you'd like to discuss the issue and/or seek treatment.
It took me a while to digest this news. I was a bit shocked and then a bit dismayed. After a few more drinks, clearly to help with my mourning process, we parted ways, her leaving me with this nugget of advice: “You gotta get something up in there and fast!” I went home and quickly Googled, “Can your vajayjay close due to lack of sex?” Short answer: “Use it or lose it.”
I’ve just signed back up on Tinder. Wish me luck.
Do you suffer from vaginal dryness? Did you see a doctor? Let us know in the comments below.
Claudia Chanhoi
Follow Article Topics: Health
