My name is Charity, I’m a 32-year-old divorcee. I was 28 when I got divorced after a four-year marriage. You see, my divorce story is bizarre in the sense that I got married as a virgin and got divorced still a virgin. Sounds impossible yeah? Wait till you hear it all.
When I met my now ex-husband Christian, I had just turned 22. We met at the small Catholic Church in my home town. He had come for the funeral service of a late uncle, while I was just a church member. I worked at the local government at that time while studying at my state’s polytechnic as well. I later got to know he was a lawyer who had just started at a law firm in my state’s capital.
When I was younger, I wanted to stay pure and managed to protect my virginity despite all the grammar school boys I’d been friends with. I used to be a tomboy back then, only I wasn’t allowed to express it in dressing because of my parents but I had quite a handful of boys as friends.
My signature appearance back then was me wearing a Virgin Mary pendant always, just to ensure that the guys I moved with knew I was waiting.
It was quite hard though, keeping to my vows to remain a virgin until marriage. Twice or more times, I almost lost it while being reckless. Once, before I finished grammar school, I almost gave it up for a guy I was really fond of, Pius. That day we got intimate during a school ceremony. I let him kiss me in one of the empty classes and put his hand down my pants, but I had to draw the line.
I certainly wasn’t going to do it with some guy who was about to graduate and leave town in a few weeks (as that was his plan) and I also wasn’t going to lose it on a hard table in a dirty class. That wasn’t how I imagined my first time at all.
Christian The Perfect Gentleman
Every guy I went out with wanted to sleep with me almost immediately we started something and every one of them lost interest in me when I stood by my decision to wait.
By the time I met Christian, I was starting to wonder if keeping my virginity was still a smart thing to do as some of my friends were already married and I knew most weren’t a virgin when they met their husbands. So I thought maybe I should give it up for Christian after a month of dating. As it was, I really liked him and didn’t want to lose him over my unpopular stance.
To my surprise, Chris told me on our second date that he wanted to wait until we were married because he was chaste. I couldn’t have been more shocked but as I got to know him, it made sense.
Chris was a Christian (not just by name), I mean a real Christian: the kind that goes to Mass every day, the kind that fears God, the pious kind. Plus, he was a supportive friend, so much kinder than anyone I’d ever known. He volunteered his time and money to charities, headed several church committees and was highly esteemed in the church. He read all the right books, led several community groups and wanted to mentor less fortunate children.
Sex And Christian
We got along really well and naturally, I wanted to make out sometimes. I wanted a repeat of what happened with Pius in the empty class, only I wanted it with a good guy, someone who loved me, who I felt safe with. But making out with Christian was always so boring and mechanical.
Though I wasn’t that experienced, I knew something was off. The other guys I’d been with, usually got me so excited and lost in the moment. At those times, all that stood between me and their penis inside of me was my Virgin Mary pendant and mother’s stern warning.
With Christian, there was no such excitement, I never got carried away, I was always able to concentrate, think clearly and keep my cool. It was refreshing though, not to be the teary, hysterical mess pleading to be left alone as was the case with the other guys. So I concluded that maybe, this relationship was better than sex. And how would I know? I had never done the deed.
During our make-out sessions, I always felt like I was directing a blind man. I’d be like, “squeeze my breasts, no a little more, no back to the left, wait, too fast.” It was always stressful, and over time, it became tedious.
Christian had no creative ideas of his own. I’d never been with anyone so asexual. It seemed like if I didn’t make moves, nothing would have ever happened while we courted. But I kept thinking he was the best person I’d ever known, and maybe things would get better after we got married.
I just kept thinking: “what was a great sexual relationship in comparison to the peace and love he gave me?” It seemed so shallow of me to dump someone who had become my best friend just because he couldn’t get me aroused or sexually excited.
After two years of dating, our wedding night came. Of course, by now, I’d sort of lost the anticipation. So that night, we tried and failed.
While he was getting ready for bed, I put on the sexy lingerie given to me by my friends, the white nightgown my mother bought me for my big night. As I waited on the bed, while he took a shower, I felt like I was in a play, only all my stage directions were missing. What was I supposed to do? Lie down and wait for him to take me, missionary style?
The entire time we’d been dating, I had felt in charge of our sexual relationship, but I had no idea how to make sex happen. Apparently, neither did he, because he simply started kissing me awkwardly as he positioned himself on top of me.
It was not erotic; it was robotic. Hours passed and he had not done anything seductive, so I stopped him and told him I just couldn’t do it. Christian didn’t seem upset, only slightly disappointed that things didn’t turn out differently.
Wedding Blues, Path To Divorce
Days rolled by and we still haven’t consummated our union. We kept right on trying for weeks, for months, for years, and kept right on failing.
He could never stay hard long enough to get inside of me. And I could never get excited enough to let him in. I began thinking, in my obsessive way, maybe I was just too small, too tight.
Maybe I had some impenetrable vagina that only the strongest, hardest penis could penetrate. Maybe my hymen was thicker than normal. I felt pity for my clueless husband who had a fairly large penis but had no idea how to make it work and blamed our inabilities on myself.
I felt bad seeing his ego and manhood suffer at every failed attempt. But really, between his giant penis, his premature ejaculation problem and my tight-as-a-virgin-problem, the whole thing was pretty much doomed.
It got worse that relatives began to look at me like a failed woman as I didn’t get pregnant. I couldn’t tell anyone, not even my mum that my husband and I had been unable to have proper sex.
Pius and Bells of Divorce
After four years of painful unconsummated marriage, we broke it off. What else could I have done? We couldn’t even try couples counselling or talk to anyone about it because my husband’s ego would be bruised.
We tried everything else: porn videos, candles, lubricants. Nothing worked. I would have thought I was hopelessly frigid, except right around the time we gave up on trying, I started spending time with an old friend, Pius.
Christian and I had moved to a new area in the city and Pius happened to live just a street away. We ran into each other again several times at the local church.
Ever since high school, I had been attracted to Pius, but not giving up my virginity at the time meant losing Pius. Pius was flirtatious, sensual and confident. He was extremely open about sex and obviously experienced. From the look of things when we met again, he was even an improved version.
After a few more encounters, my feelings for him became overwhelming and I worried I’d have an affair with him, or at least try to. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about his penis and how much I wanted them buried deep in me. He brought feelings I never knew that I was capable of having.
After so many more tries with Christian, I knew we just weren’t meant to be. I didn’t want to have an affair while still married, so I told him I have had it. He cried horribly when I told him we needed to end things, but he also didn’t seem surprised.
Five months later, he relocated, leaving his firm. I moved places as well the moment our divorce was finalized. I was 28, divorced and worst still, a virgin.
After the divorce, I couldn’t wait to meet someone who would have sex with me. But I was still worried about my dysfunctional, overtly small vagina.
At this point, I was absolutely certain that there was something wrong with me. I mean, how could a penis have never gotten in there? Now, I had to be sure that when I found someone, that sex would “work” and that I wouldn’t find another premature ejaculator with an abnormally large penis.
Determined to know more, I read several books on sex life, bought several instructional DVDs and learnt to pleasure myself. I figured I could start with helping myself but I knew what I needed was an experienced man. So I began looking out for one.
It was no small surprise when Pius turned up at my workplace one evening. He had gotten wind of my divorce and was eager to know what happened. I held back the details of my marriage and told him it was due to family differences that we couldn’t get past.
Seeing Pius that day, I knew I would never fall in love with him because I wasn’t ready to start loving again; I just wanted to have sex.
I invited him to my house for dinner, figuring it would take quite a few dates before we actually did anything. Of course, I didn’t mention my virgin problem or my possibly impenetrable vagina.
We ended up talking on my bed in my one room self-contained apartment. He asked if I’d like to go out with him anytime soon and before long, we were making out. I didn’t stop him when he unbelted and took his pants off, and I didn’t care when he took mine off. It didn’t occur to me that he wanted to have sex right away.
As he started pulling off my panties, I reasoned it would probably take several attempts to get inside of me, and I only hoped he could penetrate the wall eventually. I was certain he’d have to do something special, something that I hadn’t learned or that Christian didn’t know to do. It didn’t even dawn on me that he wasn’t putting on a condom.
Within two seconds, he was inside of me.
It was shockingly simple. Nothing could have prepared me for it.
How could something that had evaded me for this long, something that had ruined my marriage to an otherwise great guy, something that I feared and longed for, something that had driven me to go on anti-depressants and take up hobbies and strenuous workouts just to loosen up, turn out to be so simple?
And then it was over. He came less than 2 minutes. By the time I got used to how it felt having a man inside of me, he was out and lying on his side. It didn’t hurt like I’d expected but it didn’t last long enough to feel good.
I wanted more, I wanted the positions I’d memorized and I wanted it to not be over. But all Pius said was, “Wow that was great.” I scanned his face for some look of recognition, something….. But he didn’t know he just had sex with a virgin.
Boy Bye Bye
The next day, he asked to come over, but I said I had somewhere to go. I felt weird after the sex thing, and I also knew having sex on a first date was not the greatest set-up for a relationship. I also knew that I had no real connection with Pius.
He called me a few days later but the conversation was awkward. We never saw each other again. Still, I felt relieved, and I looked at the entire incident as a test run of my new life. At least, I felt knowing it wasn’t my fault all those years was something.
It’s been almost four years since then, and I’ve had a lot of sex with a few different men. But I still haven’t managed to put love and sex together in the same person.
I wish I could tell you that it doesn’t matter, that I’m not waiting any more, that great sex is great. But I’m still hoping for something more. I want it all, love and sex in one person.
Sometimes, I still feel a pang of regret about Christian because we had a real friendship, and I loved him. He was someone I could laugh with, cry with and fight with, a true best friend.
I want, more than anything, to combine something like that with a physical/sexual connection. I keep getting one or the other, but neither one is satisfying without the other.
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This is one of those divorce case mistakes I see. This divorce didn’t need to be and could have been avoided with counselling.
Sex is very important to a relationship. Sex helps to bring couples closer and when there isn’t enough sex in marriage, it leads to a lack of intimacy.
Christian and Charity should have sought counselling as a means to save their marriage and avoid divorce. Charity admits that they had a good marriage outside of the sex issues.
My analysis of the matter is that Christian was dealing with sexual anxiety disorder. Likely gotten from various stern warnings from home and childhood issues that were not properly dealt with. People with this disorder find it difficult to perform sexually. The guy’s find it difficult to get and keep an erection while the woman is frigid in bed.
Failure the first time, increases the anxiety and causes repeated failure. The biggest way to deal with this is with proper counselling and sometimes with drugs until the individual has recovered their sexual confidence.
Unfortunately, as we discussed in the Hello Ross letter of last week, people are reluctant to take certain issues to a counsellor. As Charity wrote, they seemed more interested in preserving Christian’s ego than preserving their marriage. Choosing a divorce when basic counselling could help.
Virtually all sexual dysfunctions can be helped. Getting the help of a good doctor and sexual therapists helps. Don’t suffer in silence. Good quality marriage is when the marriage is solid and satisfying all round.
As Charity found, sexual satisfaction is best with a companion you have a relationship. She and Christian can still get back together. I found they do still miss each other. Their willingness to open up to counselling would be a deal breaker in saving their marriage.
If you would like to get marriage counselling or advice, share your divorce stories or just talk, please send me a mail. My email address is email@example.com. Your confidentiality is highly protected.
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