My ex literally roasted my bedroom skills in the breakroom for weeks, and now my brain is completely fried. Out of nowhere she sent this huge 2 a.m. text apologizing and confessing she has severe vaginismus and just acted like a sex god out of panic because sex actually hurt like hell. I’m ridiculously relieved it wasn’t just me being terrible... but what am I even supposed to do with that info now?

Take a massive breath and drop that crushing backpack of self-doubt directly onto the floor—you were never the disaster she made you out to be. What happened here is classic human defense mode dialed up to eleven: attack first so nobody notices your own fortress is on fire. She masked intense physical pain and shame behind a smokescreen of snarky breakroom bravado. Not cool of her to drag your confidence through the mud at work, but that midnight confession proves her nasty comments had nothing to do with your technique and everything to do with her sheer terror. You don’t need to become her therapist, but you can bury the hatchet so those coffee breaks stop feeling like a war zone. Shoot her a short, clean reply: "Thanks for telling me the truth. It explains a lot, and I'm sorry you went through that pain. Let's just wipe the slate clean and keep things chill at work." Then enjoy the undisputed win: your sexual self-esteem just got handed back to you in mint condition.