In any society, there’ll be things to which you cannot legally consent. Most UK-based kinksters will be probably be aware of the Spanner case, in which a group of men were prosecuted for various crimes including assault, despite the fact that the participants had consented to the activity. It’s a really interesting discussion this, because it tackles a whole range of things that are interesting to think about including consent, power, and personal freedom. To what, exactly, are we allowed to consent?

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Something is seriously wrong with our men. Our young, white men in particular. It’s easy to see the links when it’s all laid out in front of you: the vast majority of mass killers are men, violence against women is common of many mass killers many – or most – of whom openly hate women. Recently ‘Incels’ (a label that means ‘involuntary celibate’) have been in the news, thanks to one incel who decided he was so angry he needed to take it out on society by killing people. And while we’re now having a welcome discussion about how dangerous misogyny can be, I can’t help but think we’re not fully addressing the problem.

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When people ask me ‘is your husband home?’ (or variations on that theme), I correct them in the same irritating way I’ll hiss ‘Ms’ if asked whether I’m a ‘Miss or Mrs’. My partner and I aren’t married, and I used to think my initial burst of frustration when people asked for my ‘husband’ was because I didn’t like the assumption that all couples have to get married at some point. It’s not really that, though: what’s frustrating is how often I am asked – or expected – to defer to my male partner. As if he’s the CEO in our relationship, and I am merely his secretary.

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Last week I watched an hour-long YouTube video of a man playing a game called ‘Super Seducer’, because I am ever keen to unravel the mystery of men. What ARE men, exactly? If I believe the creator of ‘Super Seducer’, the answer is that they are absolute twats.

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The best date you could take me on wouldn’t be the most expensive. In fact, the worst date I’ve ever been on was the one where the guy was most obsessed with money – buying expensive wine and ordering it loudly so that I (and everyone on the tables nearby) would hear and be impressed with how fat his wallet was. And if I were looking for the perfect partner, ideally I’d want to find one with exactly the same income as me: matched to the penny, to avoid causing fights. Because it is never ‘only money’ – it is so much more than that.

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