When I arrive at the door, we kiss and hug and make all the noises you make during plague time: it’s so good to see you. I’m so glad you came. I’ve been looking forward to this all week. There’s wine in my bag, something smells delicious in the kitchen and earlier this week I texted him ‘pls can you tie me up?’ and he replied with ‘yes, yes I can’ so I’m fizzing. But somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a nagging girl who reminds me that ‘support bubbles‘ can impact the speed and intensity with which you embark on new relationships.

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I don’t sleep in our bedroom any more, I decamped to the spare room months ago. There are too many ghosts in our bedroom now, I do not like being in it. The room in which my ex-boyfriend used to work (and play, and sleep, and live) has long since been closed off: I use the space for drying laundry, but the door to it is firmly shut unless I’m hanging socks. This house is riddled with shadow-versions of him, and most of them congregate in there.

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“I’m not 17, I’m a grown-arse woman. I just regularly make childish mistakes.”

– Tracey, Chewing Gum

In today’s blog, I am going to tell you about a ridiculous, embarrassing mistake. The first person I told was my good pal Jessica, who greeted this story with howls of laughter followed by ‘you’re definitely going to tell the blog this, aren’t you? You HAVE to.’ And yeah… I am committed to telling you my silliest fuckups as well as my sexiest fucks, so I guess I do have to. This is a story about chewing gum, and the question of how soon in a budding relationship is too soon to be a fuckup.

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I know some people fixate on the lovers their partners have known before they got together, but I don’t think that’s my bag. When your partner gets with you, you’re the best one, obviously: all their exes fade into the shadows because your own star is shining so brightly. I prefer to fixate on the lovers who come afterwards. Those better, cooler women with filthy sex ideas and amazing tits and brand, shiny, sparkling new stories. Luckily for me, though, this isn’t a problem, because shortly after I break up with someone a lovely cosy limousine arrives to pick him up and he goes to live with all my other ex-boyfriends in a beautiful pasture far, far away.

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Just putting it out there: it is very cool and fun to date me. I promise. No, it’s not a total nightmare of reading posts about yourself and wondering whether you’ll get a good write-up, or listening to me bang on about butt plug brands until you’re entirely turned off butt plugs forever. It’s really cool and fun, and I am not in any way a total shambles.

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