NO one understand period pain like a boyfriend, so I’m here to share my foolproof methods for curing this whole pesky menstruation thing. By Josh Gardner.
First I reassure Lucy by demonstrating there are no lengths I won’t go to to help. I pop to the shops and pick up some painkillers, own brand, not Advil, I’m not made of money. If I really want to push the boat out, I get paracetamol too (also own-brand). But ultimately, ibuprofen fixes the little headache I get from watching too much Netflix, so it must get rid of period cramps too.
I’ve seen enough TikToks of dogs getting tickled to know how to calm a distressed animal. If she says ‘What are you doing? That’s my stomach, not my uterus’, I gently respond ‘Shhh’. Sometimes I go as high as the shoulders and neck. My thinking is that if I touch enough pressure points, I’ll eventually find the acupuncture spot which turns off womb pain.
She sometimes says she wants expensive cocoa-heavy chocolate because too much sugar makes her even more bloated, but I usually manage to talk her into Cadbury Marvellous Creations. At the end of the day, chocolate is chocolate and the popping candy bits make my mouth feel fun and tickly.
You might think I should let her choose the film. Wrong. I’ve spent £3.10 on chocolate and drugs so she owes me. Something like Carrie is a good choice for menstruating women – it makes her feel ‘seen’ and reminds her other people have a much worse time of it. If she’s too exhausted to watch it to the end, I do the chivalrous thing and tuck her up in bed before finishing Stephen King’s masterpiece alone with a few lagers.
It’s a good painkiller. It certainly helped numb the pain I felt after my grandma’s funeral. And if she’s feeling too bunged up, there’s plenty of other stuff to do. Petting, blowjobs, and on the internet I recently saw something called a ‘Pennsylvanian rummage’. It all releases endorphins, and endorphins make the pain go away, right?
Zits can be an unfortunate side-effect of women’s hormones, especially for men. If Lucy’s looking particularly hideous I generously buy her some Clearasil and call her ‘Pizza Face’, which is hilarious and cheers her up no end.
Breakfast in bed
If Lucy’s still feeling rough the next morning, I treat her to my culinary expertise. I have to be careful choosing the menu, though. Eggs might remind her of ovules, and black pudding is obviously inappropriate. I tend to play it safe – chuck some Cheerios in a bowl and call it a day. It’s all about putting her needs first.