All Posts – Page 269
Threesome director: Teach this stranger how to fuck me
“Two dudes.”
“Fuck’s sake – I know. You always want two dudes.”
“Yes but but but but. It’s more than that.”
“Honest?”
“Honest. The specific nature of this two-dudes fantasy makes it different to all the rest.”
“Really?”
Really. Let me tell you about my threesome director fantasy…
All the ways in which Star Wars stopped me getting laid
OR: The inevitable folly of pretending you like shit just to get people to fuck you
I fucking hate Star Wars. I hate it. I hate it more than any reasonable human could be expected to hate a thing. Are the films themselves shit? Maybe. I have only seen one and a half of them (don’t ask me which ones, I could not give one iota of a toss).
I hate Star Wars because, on numerous occasions, my ignorance of it has stood in the way of me getting laid.
I am a fan of nerdy people. I think they’re hot and I like to fuck them. I would happily take five or six of the nerdiest people I know, lie them in a row on a giant double bed covered in Darth Vader bedsheets, and fuck them until one or other of them awakened the force.
Like Doctor Who, I tried to get into Star Wars because (shameless, shameless, shameless) quite a few nerdy guys I fancied kept talking about it, and I figured that if I wanted to get some geek dick I would need to learn what a Milennium Falcon was. Luckily for me, Doctor Who is really good, so what began as a gentle foray into something (“I like horror so I’ll go in with Weeping Angels and OH MY GOD THIS IS EXCELLENT PLEASE PUT ALL OF IT INTO MY BRAIN”) turned into a pretty long term love affair.
Unluckily for me, Star Wars is a tedious, overhyped shitshower, and Luke Skywalker isn’t even hot.
Guest blog: An intro to pony play
I’ve been desperate for an article on pony play for ages – it’s fascinating and cool and all the things that get me excited. The trappings seem satisfying and kinky, the role-play seems difficult yet deliciously immersive.
Do I really need an online dating photo?
About five years ago when my online dating activity was at its peak, and I spent at least as much time checking OKCupid as I did checking Facebook, I didn’t have a profile photo. Nothing.
I had previously had a profile furnished not just with a picture of my face but a couple of online dating photo ‘action shots’, by which I mean ‘pictures of me in a pub drinking’ and one awkwardly posed ‘full body’ shot. Because having just one photo meant I got messages from people asking for more. They kept asking, though, and eventually I got rid of all the photos – roughly around the time I started this blog.
When you don’t have a profile photo, most of the messages you get will be from people demanding one.
“What do u look like?”
“I won’t date u without a pic.”
“How do I know you’re not a man tho lol.”
They will explain to you, in patronising terms, that you will get far more responses with a photo. Like they think you simply forgot, and you’ll slap your forehead and go “Of COURSE! Thank you kind stranger for telling me what OKCupid tries to tell me every FUCKING TIME I log in!”
What are real women and how can I tell if I am one?
Guys guys guys guys guys you’ll never guess what, right? Real women have curves.
They do, you know. They have curves and faces and they are three-dimensional.
According to some magazines, they also have a ‘pre-sex ritual.’
Real women. REAL women. It is very important that you know this, for some reason. VERY IMPORTANT INDEED. For you must be able to identify the Real Women from the Women Who We Have Decided For Some Reason Are Not Real.
Real women shave their bikini lines, and simultaneously do not shave their bikini lines, like Schroedinger’s muff.
Real women eat brownies and are also ‘gluten-free’ and they shop in the sales and they laugh at crap telly.
Reel women like fish.
Real women have lipstick smears on their teeth and are half-cut on Christmas brandy that they found in the back of their Mum’s cupboard when they were visiting home for Christmas.
Real women don’t care if they have boyfriends.
Real women are married and will have children because that is the law.
Real women are composed entirely of dust, electrified into motion in a vaguely corporeal shape.
Real women hide their tentacles from strangers, for modesty.
Réal women like football.
Real women fly, but only at heights below 1000 feet, and only if they feel like it and they aren’t busy watching Bargain Hunt.
Real women prefer Cadbury’s Roses to crappy Nestle Quality Street and we will fight you for the caramel barrels.
Real women are solid at room temperature, but liquefy at 38 degrees centigrade, which is why we have separate saunas at the gym.
Real women – the ones who have curves – can tell you the exact equation of any given curve should you wish to reproduce it on a graph.