Category Archives: Ranty ones
When ‘the one’ becomes ‘my one and only’
If you want to be in a relationship with someone, and you’re keen on the idea of monogamy, my advice for you is to fill your life. Fill it with people who aren’t that other person. Add friends, and hobbies, and Netflix box sets that you greedily devour on your own. Try holidaying on your own, or walking on your own, or going to the pub with a good book for a quick pint on your own. Try having conversations with strangers on the internet about things that interest and excite you. Fill your fucking life.
A letter to… the childfree woman who misses her friends
This weekend, the Guardian published ‘A letter to my friends with children’ from a childfree woman who is sad that she sees less of the women she loves when they have children. “Each time one of my female friends has a baby, our friendship changes,” she explained, and a few parents I followed on Twitter understandably rolled their eyes and got a bit annoyed.
How to play Never Have I Ever (or ‘I Have Never’)
For years I’ve been lying to you all about the purpose of this blog – saying it’s about sharing sex stories and helping to tackle some of the weird assumptions society makes about the things we do behind closed doors. In fact, the whole point of the last eight years of my life has been to build up a large enough platform that I can properly school you on the rules of ‘Never Have I Ever’. Or ‘I Have Never’, as it is called where I’m from.
When are you allowed to share someone’s nude photos?
Picture the scene: a delightful sexy person has either sent you a nude selfie, or allowed you to take nude photos of them. You, proud that you own such a blessed image, are boasting to your pals about its hotness, which is so intense it’s practically burning a hole in your phone. Your mates ask for a quick peek of the treasured pic. Are you allowed to show them?
Schroedinger’s Twat: Are you ‘one of the good ones’?
I almost didn’t publish this blog post, because I wondered if it was a bit too harsh. It’s sat in my drafts for a while, getting edited and tweaked in an attempt to soften some of the blows. But this morning I read an article in Metro about men refusing to believe the evidence of women’s experience, and I figured ‘fuck it: why not?’ Let’s talk about Schroedinger’s Twat.