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Apr
7

the vagina: to Google or not to Google

They say we know more about outer space than we do about the deep ocean. You know why they say this? Because it’s safe to admit that about the deep ocean. You want to know what most men know even less about than space?

The vagina.

Specifically about what’s going on in there during a woman’s period.

In our defense, in many cases it’s willful ignorance. We don’t want to know anything that may take away the mystique of the vagina… and nothing kills mystique like blood fountaining out of something. I used the word something because I’m not even sure the vagina is considered an organ. It might just be a region outside of where the organs are kept. I know from health class that there’s a main area and a couple wings where eggs are kept and few tunnels and whatnot. Organ or not, something in there bleeds like a stuck pig every month.

Every time a commercial comes on for a tampon or pad I’m terrified one of my male friends will ask me what the difference is. I have no idea. I sit awkwardly and can’t even bring myself to look at the TV screen for fear I’ll catch sight of something whose purpose will make me want to give up on the vagina for good. Long cotton sticks that I believe girls just ram up there to plug things up. It seems so primitive and unhygienic. The liquefied remains of their uterus sloshing around in the one area that I’ve literally spent years trying to insert my penis into.

Obviously I’m lashing out because I’m too scared to spend five minutes reading about what is actually going on inside a girl during their ‘special’ time. I could Google it and answer every question I’ve ever had about the vagina but every time I try I end up typing ‘Deep Ocean’ instead. I might know more about the deep ocean than any man alive and I have serious concerns that there might be some striking similarities that would keep me up at night.

Particularly hydrothermal vents; fissures in the ocean’s crust that belch out water upwards of 700 degrees Fahrenheit, heated by hot magma lurking beneath the surface. Sound familiar?

And speaking of squirters … add that to the list of things I have no idea about. It’s really a wonder I ever ventured into the pants of a willing female to begin with. One minute you’re working hard to please your partner and the next you’re getting hit in the face with some mystery liquid. You have the same sensation as leaning over to smell a novelty flower that squirts you in the face, except you don’t see it coming … and you have to wonder for what occasion a florist would ever be asked to assemble a bouquet of such terrifying flora. I can’t get the image of a dozen of these flowers wrapped up and nestled in lemon leaf and thistle.

Where does the liquid even come from? Is there a special compartment inside a vagina? Is it urine? Am I being tagged?

It reminds me of the fountain at school when I was little. The one where it had two settings; the water would barely dribble out and no matter what you did with your tongue you couldn’t actually get any in your mouth or it would unexpectedly explode out in your face and leave you soaked.

And once again, I could Google this. I could actually know the mechanics of what is going on once and for all instead of describing the vagina as a hydrothermal vent or elementary school water fountain. But I’m too scared.

There are some things better left unknown.

I’m not sure this is true or not but I believe there were certain tribes of Indians that would have their women walk alone into the forest for the days they got their period and then return when it was all clear. I don’t want to appear sexist but I think that was a perfectly reasonable way to handle it. I remember seeing a commercial where an Indian was looking at what a mess the white man had made of his sacred lands, garbage sitting against a fence by a highway I believe, and a single tear was rolling down his face. Imagine if he saw a Tampax commercial now. He’d be bawling like a baby. Racking inconsolable Indian sobbing (boo a hoo ah boo a hoo ah).

There’s no way the Indian in that commercial would be Googling anything.

I guess in this Politically Correct atmosphere a major company couldn’t suggest to their female employees that they spend a few days alone in the woods when they’re menstruating.

In the end I guess I just respect the vagina too much to go nosing around too much. It would be like sneaking in and checking on its browser history. Nobody has ever done this with someone or something that they cared about and not regretted it. I don’t think that there could be an explanation for the period (or squirting) that I wouldn’t find completely disgusting.

I know that it has something to do with making babies and continuing the species so I guess I’m just going to man up and live with it.

I just hope women appreciate what we have to put up with when it comes to their vaginas.

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