Tag Archives: relationships
You don’t sniff my knickers anymore
“Remember how you used to sniff my knickers while you had a wank?”
“Yep.”
“Do you still do that?”
“Nope.”
And thus my heart was broken.
Guest blog: our pregnancy journey
Today’s guest blog is by @Pervy_thoughts on Twitter – he’s here to share a deeply personal story about conception, pregnancy, and some of the complications involved. When he first got in touch with me, he focused on the difference between sex for recreation and sex to make a baby, so I was really moved when his story took a different turn. It’s by turns funny and deeply sad, and I’m grateful to him for sharing it here. Names have been changed with the consent of the other person in the story.
Guest blog: who gets the sex toys after a break up?
Today’s guest blog covers a topic I’ve wrestled with in the past: who gets custody of the sex toys when you split up with someone? It’s not just a financial wrangle – although with the price of some high-end toys it certainly can be – but the emotion involved in things you’ve used and loved together. It’s an utterly gorgeous post, and I’m delighted to be able to bring guest blogs back with something so lovely – please welcome this week’s guest blogger Nic.
Toilet etiquette and relationship secrets
Once I stayed in a hotel so ‘intimate’ that if your lover was lying in bed, you could technically look them in the eye while you had your morning shit. Upon arrival in this hell-hole, I realised there wasn’t a loud enough megaphone in the world to adequately amplify the force of my ‘Fuck no!’, but luckily for me my partner is understanding, and equally reluctant for me to see his dump face. We established a toilet etiquette system, so neither of us would be forced to see things we would never be able to unsee.
Fucking on the sofa
I hate my sofas. I hate them with every single fibre of my being. I hate them more because I should have anticipated the problems I have had with them, and left them to rot in Marks and Spencer where they belonged. With their shitty sleek design and their evil spindly legs. And their squeaky, ill-placed, uncomfortable cushions.
I cannot fuck on my sofa. And although this might sound like an entitled whine (it is), I want you to be able to learn from my mistakes if you can. Never ever ever buy a sofa you cannot fuck on.