OK listen up, lover/fuckbuddy/casual shag. You want us to get our sexy fuck on, and that’s delightful. I would very much enjoy milking your dick/being ruined by you/tying you to the bedframe/getting spanked in the hallway/sucking you off/finding a secluded park where we can bang up against a tree/whatever it is that both of our little hearts crave. But in order to do this, and do it well, I need you to give me some guidance. Tell me what you want and why you want it. Talk about your desires and needs and likes and dislikes. Communicate with me – not just once, at the start of our connection, but constantly. Before, during and after sex. It’s not a one-shot thing, it’s a permanent responsibility. You want to eat the cookies? You have to help make dough.

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Do you have a ‘good’ sense of humour? I reckon most of us want to answer ‘yes’ to that question. Myself very much included. If I’m going to shag someone, not only do I want them to make me laugh but – crucially – I want them to laugh at my jokes too. And although ‘good sense of humour’ is a useful shorthand, because humour is so personal, you’re better off hunting for someone who has a compatible sense of humour, rather than what they describe as a ‘good’ one – I mentioned this in an older blog post about writing the best online dating profile. Most people love to laugh, but not all of us find the same things funny. Someone you think is hilarious might be tedious and irritating to me, and vice versa. I’ve been thinking on this a lot recently, about the ways in which humour can not only entertain us and sometimes laugh us into bed, but also indicate compatibility and green flags in potential partners.

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In response to a very bitter post I spat out recently, quite a few people asked me if I’d heard of ‘kintsugi‘ – the Japanese art of repairing broken things with gold. The idea is that, by gilding the cracks, you can see what something has survived and it becomes more beautiful. It’s a very cool concept, and yes I have heard of it. Stuart even used it in an illustration many years ago about heartbreak, which I’m using for this piece today too. But no matter how gorgeous the idea, I am not in the headspace right now to repair myself with gold. To observe the shattered pile of dust which used to be my self-worth and note with detachment that, some day, it’ll make a lovely pot.

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I don’t think I’m a very fun person at the moment, let’s start there. I used to be this irritatingly bouncy, joy-filled fucker who skipped from social event to social event with the words “isn’t this BRILLIANT” on my lips. I loved my friends, found pleasure in so many little things, and although life was often underscored by a pulsing beat of anxiety, usually I could keep that at bay with the promise of a pint in the sunshine and a decent playlist in my headphones as I stomped down the street to reach it.

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I’ve mentioned this once or twice before, but never really allowed myself the pleasure of diving into it. I have time today, though, and this topic is all about taking your sweet time. Let’s talk about kissing at the speed of consent.

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