Page 63 of What It Means To Be Found

Is it normal to throw up because of periods? I asked again, my curiosity piqued.

“Yeah,” Courtney set her elbow on the bar top before resting her cheek on her fist, “Do you know what a period is?”

I rolled my eyes, Yes.

“But do you understand the reality of it?” Courtney pressed, making Beck giggle on my other side. “Because you know what it is, and yet you seem surprised to know that there can be a certain level of pain involved.”

I didn’t say anything, I just stared at her, waiting for her to eventually elaborate. She did.

“The uterus is literally shedding its lining,” I nodded because I understood that “The organ is ripping itself apart from the inside out, piece by piece, which—call me crazy—doesn’t sound too pleasant on paper.”

I frowned because no, no it did not.

“Everyone has different pain tolerances,” Beck spoke up, making me glance to my other side to look at her. “Some women have high pain tolerances, and can function just fine on their period.” Beck shrugged, “Other women’s periods are actually just worse. More brutal. They lose more blood, and therefore, are in more pain. Plus, there are additional medical conditions that can make periods so much worse.” Beck’s brows scrunched in thought as she stared at her own martini, “I wonder if Eloise has something like that.”

“I think that she has something,” Courtney replied. “The amount of pads and tampons she goes through is alarming. No one can lose that much blood and be totally functional. She’s gotten lucky by having her heavy flow days occur over the weekend when she doesn’t have to work.”

I widened my eyes.

Eloise was constantly bleeding.

She was bleeding out, throwing up, and unable to move.

And my heart twisted at that knowledge. All of us were at the bar, having a good time while Eloise was trying to hold herself together.

Can she take medicine to help? I asked, not too worried about how I looked at the moment.

Beck smiled at me, “Tylenol and Ibuprofen help. But not always.”

I shook my head, before Courtney spoke up with a sarcastic tone, “Classic.”

I gave her a questioning look before she continued, “You’re such a man sometimes, Logan.” I frowned because, coming from Courtney, it probably wasn’t a compliment.

“Why is Logan such a man?” Josh asked, approaching his fiancée from behind and looping an arm around her neck to pull her against his chest.

“He is just learning about the severity of periods.”

Josh smiled and winked at me. “Give him a break,” he chastised Courtney and kissed her head, “None of us guys know until a woman teaches us.”

I gave Josh a small smile of appreciation because I did feel a little bit like an asshole just learning about all of this in my thirties, but he eased my guilt a little with his words.

“It’s true,” Beck patted my shoulder before crossing her arms on the bar top to speak to our friends, “As soon as we get our periods, girls are immediately told not to talk about it. And then we go to health class in, like, middle school or something, and the lecture on periods weirdly gaslights us into believing that we are being over dramatic about the pain and maintenance, simply because every single uterus owner experiences it and also doesn’t talk about it. And then when we do talk about it as adults, realizing how stupid it is to not talk about something we experience every single month, men gaslight us again because no other woman in their life has spoken about it. So we must be ‘overdramatic’, right? We must be ‘exaggerating our pain’.”

“So then,” Courtney chimed in, nodding along with every sentence Beck spoke, “That leaves women like Eloise in the state she’s currently in.” My gut churned at the image they were so clearly painting for me. “At home, curled up on the couch with a heating pad, all by herself. In so much pain that she can’t even walk around. After she weirdly shoved all her friends out the door to go out and have fun tonight without her because she feels bad for feeling bad. She doesn’t want to inconvenience other uterus owners with the pain that she feels when her uterus destroys itself as some shitty reward for not getting pregnant this month.”

I stared into my mug of beer, only having taken a couple of sips from it as I thought about their words. It was such a horrible reality, and part of me felt guilty for never thinking twice about it. I didn’t have a uterus. The most inconvenient thing I ever had to experience because of my genitalia were no reason or inappropriately timed boners.

It’s not like I had to deal with a constant bleed from my dick every month.

I couldn’t fathom being able to function well enough to play hockey if men had to experience what women did.

And they were right.

The moment Courtney and Beck started talking about Eloise’s current state, my immediate thought was that they must be mistaken. Eloise must be sick. No way would a period affect her that badly. Thanks, patriarchy. Thanks, society, for training men like me to always excuse and dismiss women.

That sounds horrible, I finally signed in response to the vivid descriptions the women in my life gave me.

“It is horrible,” Courtney twirled the toothpick of grapes in her glass thoughtfully.

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