“I felt like my vagina died. Turned off. Lights out … you can lie to your relatives at Christmas dinner and tell them everything on the home front is just peachy. But you cannot lie to your vagina. Sometimes your vagina dies. Then you know it’s time to go. There’s no reason to sacrifice your womanhood and femininity for some sort of weird feeling of responsibility to something that may not be right. I feel like far too many women do that. [Men] are not allowed to be the only ones thinking with their genitals.”
OK, so I get the idea that, to some women, sex is very, very, crazily, insanely important in a relationship. It pretty much trumps everything. But I’ve also spoken to women to whom sex is kind of secondary. And that’s OK, too. Me, I’m somewhere in the middle. If I really, really love someone and I’m blissfully happy with them, sex is not necessarily the number one priority; it’s more a bonus than anything. It’s like, even when the sex is “bad,” it’s still pretty good, because it’s sex, you know? Bad sex is pretty much always better than no sex at all, so that’s kind of why, while I respect girlfriend’s ideals that Sex is Aces, I don’t really understand where Olivia‘s coming from on this one.
Or, better yet, not coming. From. On this one.
Also, pardon my crap Paint project. I’m a writer, not a graphic designer, OK?