Category Archives: Ranty ones
BDSM made me do it
Today an article went up on the Guardian that made me desperately sad. In the wake of a woman being murdered by her partner, with whom she was said to be in a BDSM relationship, Emer O’Toole explains that we should examine the impact of BDSM – as if the murderer’s label of ‘Sir’ is in any way more significant than the fact that he was an abusive, evil, murderous prick.
I’m going to warn you, this story gets more awful and troubling with the context so you might not want to read on.
Dating spam: why do suitors act like spammers?
Recently I had a chat with a mate of mine who is signed up to a couple of dating sites. Tinder, OKCupid, whatever it is the kids these days are using to hook up with people. She explained to me that her greatest bugbear is guys who – after she’s ignored their first message (or more likely first deluge of messages) – say ‘hey, you could at least tell me no rather than just ignoring me. It’s polite to say something, after all.’
No.
Hear this: I can totally see why your average dude might be confused by that. That unequivocal ‘no’ looks a bit harsh, doesn’t it? If you’re someone who sends a lot of dating messages only to be met with tumbleweed, you might think ‘hey, GOTN, that’s not very nice. I’d reply to everyone, so why shouldn’t they reply to me?’
*cracks knuckles*
Sex stories, lies and memory
When you tell someone a story, how much of it is true? Every detail? Probably not. Whenever you tell someone something that actually happened, there’ll be elements of it that you remember perfectly, and other elements that you don’t. You’ll perhaps gloss over some of the awkward details, or play them up to comic effect, or tell a story in a context which doesn’t fully explain the whys as well as the whats.
And so it is with sex stories.
During an email interview the other day, someone asked me how much of what I write is true. My initial, kneejerk response was: all of it. And that’s the simplest answer. Everything I write here – unless it’s specifically marked as a fantasy or bucket list shag – actually happened. But to say it like that is to gloss over what actually happens when you write up a sex story – whether it’s a relationship you had ten years ago, or a quickie you had last night.
A guy with no sense of humour walks into a bar
Sorry ladies, the news is in. A study of 80 dudes somewhere in America, as reported by world class science journal The Metro, concluded that men don’t want you to have a sense of humour. Well, they do want you to have a sense of humour, but one which means you laugh at all their jokes rather than coming up with your own.
It’s a shame, because for so many years we straight girls have been desperately trying to earn the right to write ‘GSOH’ on our dating profiles. Guys might complain that we’re taking an hour to pick an outfit before a night out, but they don’t realise that while they’re tapping watches and rattling car keys we’ve spent forty-five minutes putting the finishing touches to our favourite version of that Aristocrats story.
I’m joking, of course, but you’re not obliged to laugh.
Porn: not all of it is for you
As the sun will rise every morning, so each day an internet commenter will decide that something new is The Worst Thing To Ever Have Happened.
I’m not prone to slagging off commenters – you who join in below the line, adding critique, debate, praise and hilarious jokes about this one time you fell off the bed while fucking – you are a valuable and incredible part of the internet. Sniffy bloggers like me don’t have a monopoly on opinions, and frequently the contribution of thoughtful, awesome people adds loads to a topic, or makes me snort coffee out of my nose when they drop a particularly hilarious pun. Comments are incredibly valuable: I’d be a liar if I told you differently.
But there is one kind of commenter who can fuck utterly off. And it’s someone I had only made passing acquaintance with until I started working for hot porn site Dreams of Spanking. It’s this person:
“Eww. Why on earth would you post two men going at it?”
“Sorry, but this just isn’t my thing AT ALL.”
“What the hell is THAT?”