Page 9 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t realized that I was winning. My opponent directly in front of me had a strong start, but that also meant the rest of the group quickly ganged up and knocked him out of the game. Aaron and my other opponent both had decent board states, and while I hadn’t attacked anyone yet, mylifestealerdeck had been gaining me an alarming amount of life. I sat at 62, while my opponents, having taken a lot of damage knocking out the other player, were at 29 and 18.
I gulped. I was winning, but that meant I was also now the main target.
A few more rounds passed. I took some big hits, knocking me down to 43 life by my next turn. I cringed, realizing that I could’ve prepared for this situation better if I hadn’t been so lost in my own thoughts.
Sadly, I couldn’t recover. Both men teamed up to knock me out in two more turns, and they faced off head-to-head to determine the victor. I was pleased that it was Aaron, and I gave him a congratulatory fist bump as he went up to the counter to claim his prize cards.
“I’ll get you next round,” I teased as I brushed past the counter and headed for the restroom.
“You wish!”
I closed the single-stall bathroom door behind me and settled on the toilet. And just as I did so, a wave of fatigue washed over my body, causing me to lean back against the plumbing.
Ugh, why do I suddenly feel so dizzy?
And… sore?
I tore off my jeans and underwear at lightning speed. It was just a few red spots, but it was enough for my insides to twist.
I knew what was coming. The pain was mild now, but it wouldn’t be later.
I took a few deep breaths as another searing pulse trickled through my body. I had maybe thirty minutes to get home and crawl in bed before the worst of it came.
Disappointment flooded through my veins. I’d have to drop out of TCG Night and head home.
I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and exited the stall with a hand over my lower abdomen, trying not to appear as sick as I felt.
Aaron and the others were preoccupied; hunched around a table and flipping through their card binders. Devin was the only one on the retail side of the store, punching away at the computer keyboard. From the restroom entrance, I could see the back of his head, sandwiched by a pair of ears pierced with silver studs.
“Hey Avie,” he grinned as I approached the counter. “How can I help you?”
“I’m dropping,” I croaked as another wave of pain slammed into my abdomen.
“Ah ok. You sure? It’s only been one round.”
I nodded, pressing my fingers deeper into my stomach.
Devin’s smirk faded away, replaced by genuine concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grumbled as I stepped away from the counter.I’m certainly not telling him about my period problems.
“Well, alright then. Have a good night.”
I pressed my shoulder into the front door and shoved it open. A bell chimed above my head as a muggy, warm summer breeze whooshed past me. It was a short walk to my car, but I was already stumbling by the time I made it to the driver’s seat.
I started up the ignition and caught a glimpse of myself in my rearview mirror. My abdomen throbbed again, and I saw my reflection squeeze her eyes shut in pain.
This is going to be a long night.
God, my head hurts.
My eyes fluttered open the following morning, and the first thing I noticed was that I was sore, lightheaded, and still exhausted even after ten hours of sleep.
I placed a hand on my aching forehead as I lay sprawled out in a star shape on my bed. My back and limbs were covered in dried sweat, and my bedsheets were unusually humid and sticky. The morning after bad period cramps felt much like I imagined a hangover would.
But at least the pain was gone. I was no longer crippled by it, alternating between sitting on the toilet with my head buried in my knees and curling up in a fetal position on the bed. I was no stranger to pain—I’d broken my collarbone at age six, torn my knee open at age fourteen, and caught severe COVID at age twenty-four. But in my almost twenty-seven years of life, nothing else had ever compared to the pain of my periodcramps.
My uterus still felt achy and tender as I sat upright in bed, trying to shake the dizziness from my cloudy head. But the worst part about my periods wasn’t the pain. That I could deal with, even if it meant sobbing in bed for hours until exhaustion pulled me into a fitful sleep. With my various ailments over the years, someone had always been there to help me. My parents rubbed my head and reassured me as I had my collarbone x-rayed and my knee stitched up as a child. Even Cassidy took care of me when I had COVID, slipping food, water, and medicine through my door so she didn’t catch my illness.
