Category Archives: Unsolicited advice
My first date was as incompetent as you’d expect
How should I define my first date? There were lots of experiences with boys long before I was ever formally asked to the cinema, or for dinner, or whatever it is people do when they’re not just desperately trying to rummage in each other’s pants.
The first time I kissed a guy (on the lips, no snogging or anything) I was at the swimming pool. Our friends had all got together for an afternoon of splashing around, and I was determined that I’d come home with a boyfriend. The proto-boyfriend, you understand – not a real one. The one you get when you ask your best mate to just go around all the boys who seem vaguely willing and ask them in turn: “Will you go out with my friend?”
Two things: sex chat and satanic wanking
You know that wanking can make you go blind, but did you also know that it opens a hell-portal in your bedroom so that tiny demons can slip into bed beside you and poke you with burning forks? Well, read on for the shocking news, as well as a fab blog post about sex chat with your doctor (not that kind of sex chat – that’s £3 per minute). Here are two things I thought you’d like to see this week…
Sex education: what I wish I’d learned
In my sex education classes at school, I was told that sex was this:
A man puts his penis in a woman until he ejaculates.
There was a lot of stuff surrounding that, of course, all of it important: how to avoid getting pregnant, or reduce the risk of an STI. How the sperm meets the egg. Why menstruation happens. But at the heart of it was that: a man puts his penis in a woman. Train goes in tunnel, you know?
Everything I learned was grounded in that train-in-tunnel thing. Sure, we got timetables, instructions on emergency exits, and a map to where the buffet car was, but we were still always focused on the train.
Anxiety and the ‘fuck budget’
This post has everything to do with anxiety and nothing to do with sex. Except, of course, for the fact that both sex and anxiety are woven so tightly into the fabric of my life that they touch on everything I do. Except for that.
A while ago, someone sent me a link to this old article on stress and anxiety, and it made me stressed. But the good kind of stressed: annoyance that prompts me to write a long blog post about something. That kind of stress I like. It’s a refreshing break from the other kind of stress I have, which is a constant low-level hum of worry that I have done or said something howlingly awful, which at some point will be revealed to me via the medium of a friend or colleague telling me to get fucked.
Do nice things, get nice things
This blog is a bit meta, and basically involves me talking about my life then offering you the chance to get nice things. If that’s not your bag then rest assured that normal service will resume on Sunday, with a SMOKING HOT picture of some people with tattoos, and accompanying enthusiastic blog post.
One of my resolutions for this year – particularly after an exhausting 2015 – was to try and chill out a bit more, and just enjoy nice things. Have more baths, see my friends, get enthusiastically pegged and fucked at the same time: you know the sort of stuff.