This week’s guest blogger has a happy story. One of those stories which makes me want to hug myself because a stranger found their joy. I’m really delighted to welcome Eddie to the blog, as he tells you how a Twitter crush taught him that – despite the bollocks he’s been fed by society about what might count as ‘desirable’ – he isn’t lust-proof after all.

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I’d love to come out with you tonight. You’re fun and funny and sweet and sexy and so many things that I like in a man. But I have to cancel, I’m afraid, because I don’t know you well enough to have a breakdown in your presence. Come back to me next week, when I’ll have finished crumbling. Come next month, when I’ll be well. In three months’ time, when we know each other better, and this stuff doesn’t seem quite so weird. For now, though, I don’t have the energy to be the sexy fun girl you’ve enjoyed on previous dates. Leave me alone for a minute. I need to be fragile in peace.

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It’s late in the evening, and we’ve already shagged once. The kind of sex that left my legs so trembly I felt it in my thighs as we walked down the street to get dinner. Idly wondering, as we made our way there, if passers-by could tell by my messy hair and unsteady gait that I’d just been thoroughly fucked. We went for pints and food. Played pub Jenga on a table outside. I sipped my cider and perved on him shamelessly: enjoying the view of his steady hands carefully pulling bricks from the rickety tower, the way his t-shirt stretched against his taut arms as he reached up to place them on top. Fixating on how the collar opened slightly to flash of the edge of his sexy tattoo.

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When we walk in the door of the strip club, I can guarantee that the people his eyes are drawn to are the dancers. The one on stage half-naked, the ones hanging out by the bar flirting with customers, one or two emerging from the curtained-off booths at the back of the room. My eyes, on the other hand, are firmly fixed on the men – him included.

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Have you watched Netflix’s How To Build A Sex Room? Episode one is not indicative of the show overall, so if you’ve only watched the first it might be worth sticking with it. When I first settled down to watch it, I was deeply frustrated by its giggly, sex-is-a joke attitude. Not to mention the fact that they didn’t do what they’d promised us in the title they would: show us How To Build A Sex Room. The programme was lacking in all the details a horny amateur DIY enthusiast would need, such as how to determine which fixings to use for mount points (they call them ‘hard points’ which I think is less sexy) and which fabrics give the best attractive-yet-wipe-clean finish. BUT. I stuck with it, because I like watching people talk about kink equipment, and now I’m here to tell you all that How To Build A Sex Room is actually fucking GREAT.

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