Tag Archives: chat-up lines
Fuck your Twitter followers. Yes, literally
Lots of people bemoan the fact that social media is a bubble, filled only with people who agree with you. It gives a skewed worldview, and leads to things like me weeping with bitter tears the morning after the Brexit vote, because I couldn’t quite believe the world wasn’t quite as I’d imagined it. But there are up-sides: your Twitter feed, properly curated, can essentially be a long list of people whose opinions, ideas, and words you find sexy. Given this, you may want to consider fucking them.
Your dick. My mouth. Now.
How did I chat people up before? When I was single, and I had to put some effort in beyond just saying “Your dick. My mouth. Now”?
I think I probably started with a hint: a story about this one time at college, leading to a detailed breakdown of who did what. But where there were strangers, now there’s one guy. Where there were hints, now there’s directness:
“Your dick. My mouth. Now.”
Guest blog: A sunny, holiday sex story
You might have noticed that I’ve been a bit lax on guest blogs for the last few months. Time and money have conspired to mean I haven’t been able to publish any. But now they’re back, and this first one – on holiday sex – by AB is going live because two things about it appealed to me.
Firstly, it’s a lovely holiday sex story, and not only do I love sex but I am also on holiday next week (OK, at Eroticon), so I can tie in the guest blog with a note that if I might not be super responsive over the next week or two.
Secondly, because when AB sent it to me, they said they’ve never written anything like this before, and I am a total sucker for any and all first times. Enjoy.
My first date was as incompetent as you’d expect
How should I define my first date? There were lots of experiences with boys long before I was ever formally asked to the cinema, or for dinner, or whatever it is people do when they’re not just desperately trying to rummage in each other’s pants.
The first time I kissed a guy (on the lips, no snogging or anything) I was at the swimming pool. Our friends had all got together for an afternoon of splashing around, and I was determined that I’d come home with a boyfriend. The proto-boyfriend, you understand – not a real one. The one you get when you ask your best mate to just go around all the boys who seem vaguely willing and ask them in turn: “Will you go out with my friend?”
All the ways in which Star Wars stopped me getting laid
OR: The inevitable folly of pretending you like shit just to get people to fuck you
I fucking hate Star Wars. I hate it. I hate it more than any reasonable human could be expected to hate a thing. Are the films themselves shit? Maybe. I have only seen one and a half of them (don’t ask me which ones, I could not give one iota of a toss).
I hate Star Wars because, on numerous occasions, my ignorance of it has stood in the way of me getting laid.
I am a fan of nerdy people. I think they’re hot and I like to fuck them. I would happily take five or six of the nerdiest people I know, lie them in a row on a giant double bed covered in Darth Vader bedsheets, and fuck them until one or other of them awakened the force.
Like Doctor Who, I tried to get into Star Wars because (shameless, shameless, shameless) quite a few nerdy guys I fancied kept talking about it, and I figured that if I wanted to get some geek dick I would need to learn what a Milennium Falcon was. Luckily for me, Doctor Who is really good, so what began as a gentle foray into something (“I like horror so I’ll go in with Weeping Angels and OH MY GOD THIS IS EXCELLENT PLEASE PUT ALL OF IT INTO MY BRAIN”) turned into a pretty long term love affair.
Unluckily for me, Star Wars is a tedious, overhyped shitshower, and Luke Skywalker isn’t even hot.