This weekend, I was this close to asking my boyfriend to tie me up in chains to keep me from fucking the bejesus out of him. Why is it when my bits are temporarily incapacitated that I get so goddamn horny? Not that it doesn’t happen when I’m fully functional, because Lordisa knows it does, and my pants drop faster than you can say “flood.” But must it really happen when said flood is red?
The first and only time I ever did give in to temptation and did the unspeakable during my monthly cycle was over four years ago. My subsequent vow to never do it again came as a result of what I felt immediately after the fact. I was sitting on the bed, wrapped in a winter blanket, feeling the numb pulsating labia, with my head bowed, my eyes shut. Black things were fluttering around my essence in the spirit world. I invoked some evil force, and the stain is one I would have to atone for for years to come.
I’m not fucking kidding. There is something so holy and so powerful in my menstrual blood that does not allow for any man (or woman, for that matter) to so much as go near it. I was right when I called my vulva and my uterus the Holy of Holies. During the Second Temple, only priests who were pure of heart, soul and mind could enter the sanctuary. The story goes that they would walk in with a rope tied around their ankle so that if they were to have any forbidden thoughts, they would drop dead and would have to be dragged by that rope.
During my period, and ensuing renewal of the Mark of the Covenant, entry is forbidden to anyone and anything but myself. I think that this is also another reason why I stopped using tampons and industrial pads. Only pure organic cloth pads are worthy of the stain. I didn’t know that four years ago. Back then, I still hated my period. I still saw it as something utterly disgusting and completely unnecessary. And I still hated my body – hated the way it looked, and hated it for making me have this monthly burden. So if my sexual partner of the time would have no problem with it, I guessed period sex would be ok, because I couldn’t care less about it anyway.
But it wasn’t ok. It was so fucking wrong. The evil force was called forth and the black creatures furiously flapped around my terrified spirit. I mean that literally. It was the worse mistake of my life and the only thing I truly regret. I wish I could go back and reiterate the negative response I gave at first, but in a more decisive and final tone.
As a result, I gave up period sex, as well as industrial menstrual products, for good. And even if it’s a drag at times of intense desperation, like this past weekend when I finally resorted to my fingers, it sure beats feeling like the devil’s flavor of the month. And furthermore, I think that my fear of the black creatures’ return is only part of it. Since I learned to love my body and treat it with the respect it deserves, I learned to love my period, too. This is my time of the month. My time with myself and the Divinity. No one can come between us, or come between my legs. If tying me down is what it takes for me to keep this vow to my inner child, then so be it.
Bring on the chains. This is my decisive and final NO.
Peace love and Goddess bless this bloody mess