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.

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In ‘good things’ this week – an exceptional piece on BDSM and understanding the context of your own desires. And in the ‘bad things’ column, a competition from The Sun that unfairly discriminates against men.

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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.

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Sometimes I want to arouse you. Sometimes I want to rant at you. I always want to entertain you. But occasionally I want to disgust you.

Partly because I think it’s important to highlight the fucking weird things we all do sometimes, because it makes everyone else feel a bit less weird about themselves. Partly because we’re constantly – constantly – told that experimenting with our bodies or enjoying them is dirty and bad and wrong (especially if we’re women).

But mostly because so much of what we think about sex is based on knee-jerk reactions, and when our knee-jerk reaction is one of disgust it’s worth examining why we feel disgusted. Is there a rational reason for it? Or is it, like that dildo made from human ashes, just something we condemn because our gut tells us we should?

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I know that ‘two things’ often turns into a mini-rant about bad dating advice, but that’s because there is so much bad dating advice out there, it’s really difficult to ignore. This week there’s one thing which I think we can use as a universal marker of bad dating advice. But on the up-side – there’s also a very personal, in-depth post about adult bullying, which is well worth a read.

And if you do ever spot things you’d like me to highlight here, please do leave a comment.

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