I want to say something that feels simultaneously extremely obvious yet also a little like heresy: you don’t know me. I don’t know you either, but that feels far easier to say without squirming. My job relies on complete strangers reading and enjoying my work, and although there are many ways for a blogger to do that, the way I do it is by offering you honesty and intimacy. You get to see a little way inside my life, and my head, and if you like that sort of thing you’ll stay. Share my stuff. Maybe follow me on Twitter or support me on Patreon. Maybe message me your sex secrets or send me long emails because you fancied a chat. But the tricky thing here is that no matter how you engage, you don’t know me. And I don’t know you.

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If you’ve ever tried to hunt down my Real Life Identity, you probably know one thing for sure: my name is not Sarah. Sarah is the name I used in my books, and it’s the one I use when talking to journalists about sex blogging, if they aren’t comfortable calling me ‘Girl’ or ‘GOTN’. It’s the helpful comfort blanket I wrap around myself to maintain my anonymity: a tasty morsel of reality with which to distract people who might look further. But there comes a point when ‘helpful’ nudges into ‘deceptive’ territory. Notably, when I’m shagging someone.

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I didn’t publish a blog post yesterday, and that’s not because I have no blog posts or stories to tell. It’s because every draft I have looks like it could be terrible, and my brain refuses to kick out anything that seems even vaguely ‘OK.’ In a normal week, I write two new posts, record one new piece of audio and edit a piece of guest audio, write commissioned content for other sites (I’ve recently written up this incredible NSFW shower scene for FrolicMe, which was a genuine highlight of my January), and generally churn out word after word after word to keep everything ticking over. But at the moment I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write. And that’s a little bit scary.

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One of the questions I get asked the most about being a sex blogger is ‘does your family know what you do?’ The answer is ‘yes’, although the extent of what they know depends on the family member, and how close I am to them. If we’re really close, like my Mum and I, then I won’t just tell them that I’m a blogger, I’ll also tell them about some of the things I’m excited about publishing, or the details of my working week (recently part of my job has consisted of watching and writing about this awesome FrolicMe film! I’ll get PAID for having done that! Pinch me!). Naturally this leads to curiosity, and that’s how I’ve ended up having some extremely frank conversations with my Mum and stepdad about kinks.

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This post is just a random collection of lessons I learned in 2021, and if I’m honest it’s also partly a vehicle for me to share with you some of my favourite posts and images from the past year. I’m extremely lucky to get to work with Stuart Taylor, who draws fresh new art each week which brings this blog to life in ways that are not only extremely fucking sexy (here’s my favourite hot image from the year – unngh) but also cute and funny (here’s my favourite cute/funny one!). The image that illustrates this post, by the way, comes from one of the things I most enjoyed writing this year: an ode to the walk of shame. Anyway. The end of December is a good time for taking stock of what you’ve learned in the last year, for for what it’s worth here are some of my lessons from 2021.

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