Something is seriously wrong with our men. Our young, white men in particular. It’s easy to see the links when it’s all laid out in front of you: the vast majority of mass killers are men, violence against women is common of many mass killers many – or most – of whom openly hate women. Recently ‘Incels’ (a label that means ‘involuntary celibate’) have been in the news, thanks to one incel who decided he was so angry he needed to take it out on society by killing people. And while we’re now having a welcome discussion about how dangerous misogyny can be, I can’t help but think we’re not fully addressing the problem.

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You! Yes, you! You should go to relationship counselling! OK, maybe not ALL of you, but most of my traffic comes from search so the majority of you are reading this because you googled ‘relationship counselling’, wondering if it was something you should try. Maybe you have worries about relationship counselling and you’d like me to assuage them. Maybe you’re just curious about what goes on behind the counsellor’s door. Or perhaps you’re already convinced that you want to do it, but you need (or your partner needs) that final nudge before you take the plunge. If that’s what you’re after, I’m here for you. Here are five valuable things I got from relationship counselling.

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This week’s guest blog is a gorgeous erotic story by Kim Taylor of Mommy’s Playground – check out the site (where you’ll find plenty more erotica to read) and follow Kim on Instagram here! Sick of the hustle and bustle of a loud, drunken party, the narrator tries to find a quiet spot to go and chill out in… and comes across a gorgeous stranger who’s looking for a little fun. I really enjoyed this – and not just because I’m the kind of person who’d look for any excuse to leave the loud bits of the party and head off to a bedroom for some shagging…

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The other day I squirted for the first time and it was fucking AWESOME so I’m going to tell you all about it. Regular readers will know that in the past my inability to squirt has caused me much heartache. I’d seen the people in porn squirting all over the place, including into the eager faces of their sexual partners, and my heart throbbed with sadness that I’d never quite managed to muster anything more than the odd sploosh. But finally – FINALLY – after years of longing and wishing and getting eagerly fingered to little result, I recently managed my first ever squirt and it was everything I’d dreamed of. Here’s how it happened, in case you’d either like to try it for yourself or just have a lovely wank because the thought of squirting turns you on.

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When people ask me ‘is your husband home?’ (or variations on that theme), I correct them in the same irritating way I’ll hiss ‘Ms’ if asked whether I’m a ‘Miss or Mrs’. My partner and I aren’t married, and I used to think my initial burst of frustration when people asked for my ‘husband’ was because I didn’t like the assumption that all couples have to get married at some point. It’s not really that, though: what’s frustrating is how often I am asked – or expected – to defer to my male partner. As if he’s the CEO in our relationship, and I am merely his secretary.

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