I’m a woman on the internet, so men explain things to me. They’re usually well-meaning. They want to help me out with an issue they have spotted, or give me the lowdown on something they think I should know. However, they also often assume a certain lack of knowledge on my part, around topics that I know already.

At the start of 2016, I started collecting examples. Here are a select few of my favourites.

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Two things this week features the best sex writing conference in the UK (AKA Eroticon), and how to get a free ticket if you’re strapped for cash. After that, we’ll dive into watersports. Thanks to a leaked dossier, I’m not the only sex writer who’ll be paying January’s gas bill by writing articles about Presidential piss parties.

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Wanking while you’re in a relationship: do you do it? Probably. Do you talk about it? Maybe not. There’s an unusual squeamishness about discussing masturbation when you’re going out with someone, most likely based on a hefty dollop of sex shame combined with a misconception about the purpose of wanking itself. Although there are lots of reasons to masturbate, some people still see it as an outlet for sexual frustration. The theory goes that wanking is a substitute for a partner, so if you have a partner there’s no longer any ‘need’ to do it. These people often – though not always – make their partner feel guilty for wanking. In turn, people like me make them feel guilty for doing that, and the cycle of guilt continues until we all have a really big fight.

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Sorry if you were hoping to start 2017 off on a positive note, but I have the worst blow job tips ever to share with you. They are called – brace yourself – “7 Ways To Make Giving A Blow Job Go Faster.” CAN YOU IMAGINE. I can think of two acceptable ways to ‘make giving a blow job go faster’ if you want it to stop soon: either you say ‘let’s switch to something else’ or you say ‘let’s have a break and a sandwich.’

Spoiler: neither of these are on the list of tips.

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This year, for the first time in a long time, I am not going to visit family. I’ll miss them, because my family are amazing. But there are up-sides: I won’t spend hundreds of pounds on train fares lugging a backpack full of presents all around the country. I won’t have to have the super-quiet sex on put-up beds in people’s lounges. I won’t have to smile politely at racist elderly aunts, and I can say ‘fuck’ if I want without scaring the children.

So here’s a Christmas poem for grown-ups.

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