I am often told that ‘offence is not given, it’s taken’, as if offence can only ever matter to the people who feel it. Like it’s a substance magicked out of thin air whenever someone is being thin-skinned. The ‘offence is not given, it’s taken’ argument is usually rolled out when someone is trying to make the person who is criticising them look petty or dramatic. But in my experience offence is rarely taken: it is assigned.

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Today I spotted an article in the Independent that told me porn was having a ‘terrifying’ impact on men. Naturally, I clicked on the link to see just what horrors were pouring forth from the screen and into the laps of vulnerable guys. But hidden within it was something I found quite interesting…

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Sex toys for men: I love them, some people hate them, but every sex and relationships columnist has to have an opinion on them. And some of those opinions are bullshit. While I’ll often get very shouty about facts, very rarely would I tell someone that their opinion is bullshit, but in the case of male sex toys I am comfortable doing this. Because if you think that sex toys for men are somehow less acceptable than sex toys for anyone else, chances are you’re doing this based on either bad facts or an incomplete grasp of the benefits of sex toys. Not only are you catastrophically wrong, you’re also doing an entirely unnecessary harm.

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I disappoint men regularly. In real life I disappoint them by forgetting their birthdays or accidentally baking them cakes that turn out to be raw in the middle. Professionally I disappoint men (and non-men) by not replying to their emails quickly enough, or sending invoices dated ‘2016’ because I am forgetful and will probably keep doing that until at least July. I try to fix these little disappointments, at the same time as I try to remind myself that we’re all a bit disappointing sometimes.

But on this blog, there’s one way in which I disappoint men that I have no intention of fixing.

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Once a month blood trickles from my vagina. I do beg your pardon for this – I know I should hide my monthly shame from you, because this is a sex blog and menstruation is grotesque, so I should really only talk about it in whispers. But it’s worth mentioning because a new product has arrived on the market that could mean I never have to show evidence of menstruation ever again – even when I am shagging the guy I am closest to in the whole wide world! Joy! Celebration! Let’s all pretend that periods don’t happen because if we think about it too much we’ll never fuck again!

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