I miss you. Every morning when I wake up and see you there, I miss you. I miss you while we’re exchanging emails about the minutiae of our lives. I miss you when we sit together on the sofa, our eyes locked on the telly, to keep each other out.

I miss you when we fight.

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When bad things happen, we text the people we love. We send Facebook messages, DMs and emails. We shout ‘are you OK?’ and we stand biting our nails in the kitchen as we call those who matter to us most.

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I am squirming in my seat with delight about this week’s guest post. Innocent Loverboy (@innocentlb)is one of the first sex bloggers I ever met, way back at my first Eroticon in 2014. He’s not only a seriously lovely guy, he’s also a brilliant writer. His writing is funny, sweet, romantic, and sexy all rolled into one. Today ILB is here to tell you a story about subtle, sexy touching…

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I am often told that ‘offence is not given, it’s taken’, as if offence can only ever matter to the people who feel it. Like it’s a substance magicked out of thin air whenever someone is being thin-skinned. The ‘offence is not given, it’s taken’ argument is usually rolled out when someone is trying to make the person who is criticising them look petty or dramatic. But in my experience offence is rarely taken: it is assigned.

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This time last year I was fizzing with excitement because I was on my way to the Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit. It’s an incredible event, hosted in Arlington (in America – woo!) each year. Unfortunately I can’t go this year, and it’s making me very sad. So if you’re on the fence about going I thought I’d try and use some of the influence people keep telling me I have to persuade you that it’s totally worth your while.

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