By Xavier B.
Let me begin this post by saying I loved, love and will always love my girl. Unfortunately, there are some things even love can’t wash away (pun not intended, I promise).
For the purposes of this article, I’ll call my ex-girlfriend *Keisha. Keisha and I met three years ago and from the first “hello” she had my emotions lit. Beautiful, thick, a head full of natural hair and woke as she wanted to be, she was the dreams wifey materials were made of. In every sense of the word, I was sprung.
I knew I couldn’t step to her just any type of way so I courted her for a good three or four months. Dinner, church dates, movie nights, typical gentleman stuff us men usually reserve for the special ones. And she was a special one. Keisha told me early on she didn’t rush into sex so I never made a move, particularly during our “like” and “getting to know you” phases. After about six months of dating we officially confessed our love to one another and decided to seal the deal with body-to-body contact. #Winning…well, not really.
After some pretty intense foreplay I noticed a foul smell coming from her vagina. I told myself maybe she was coming off of her period and decided to power through. Besides, we used a condom which gave my mind a little ease if things in fact were “off” down there (don’t judge, I’m a guy and it takes a lot for a man to turn down pussy). I chalked that night up as a one-time offense and never mentioned anything to her.
The thing is, it happened every time we made love. The odor never went away and in some instances it got stronger. I even tried giving her a bath before sex and the end result was still the same. Reek. Now I’m no Dr. Huxtable (again, pun not intended) when it comes to the female body, but I do know a non-normal vagina when I smell one, and this was it.
It got to the point that I began to get turned off sexually by her, and naturally she began to resent me. I even asked my female friends for advice on how to address the topic with Keisha. “Carefully,” said one. “Tell her you love her and this isn’t easy for you to bring up,” another said. “Tell one of her close girlfriends and have them break the news,” another one said. FML.
So one night during dinner I decided I couldn’t take it any longer. I grabbed her hand and told her we needed to talk. Tripping over my words and fumbling for the right phrases, I proceeded to tell the woman I loved that she had a broken pussy. For a good two minutes there was silence (I think I heard a mouse breath), then came the tears of embarrassment and finally the anger.
She thought I was making it up — a segue to breaking up with her, or some sort of cover-up for another woman (both of which were not the case). After what felt like an hour of crying at The Cheesecake Factory and me feeling like I’d won the asshole of the year award, I apologized and sucked it up for a few more weeks until my senses finally kicked me in the shin.
After about a month of toleration, I decided it was time for Keisha and I to part ways. By this time she knew I was no longer physically attracted to her, and I was downright repulsed and disgusted by her smell. I was also saddened that she refused to get medical treatment. As much as I loved my girlfriend, her inability to address what was becoming a serious issue in our relationship proved just how little she thought of me.
It’s one thing to end a relationship over infidelity or a major character flaw, but it’s another to let a good girl go over something that a little Vagisil and a trip to the OB-GYN could resolve.
Not a great ending to the story, but it’s how it ended nonetheless. I now have a new chick who has an amazing vagina and an even better heart. Oh, and in case you’re wondering what ever happened to Keisha, I saw on IG she’s expecting her first child. I wonder if the guy likes…never mind.
Moral of the story, love will make you do some crazy things and it should also make you do some sane things, like washing your ass.