Tag Archives: what is not wrong with you
A guy with no sense of humour walks into a bar
Sorry ladies, the news is in. A study of 80 dudes somewhere in America, as reported by world class science journal The Metro, concluded that men don’t want you to have a sense of humour. Well, they do want you to have a sense of humour, but one which means you laugh at all their jokes rather than coming up with your own.
It’s a shame, because for so many years we straight girls have been desperately trying to earn the right to write ‘GSOH’ on our dating profiles. Guys might complain that we’re taking an hour to pick an outfit before a night out, but they don’t realise that while they’re tapping watches and rattling car keys we’ve spent forty-five minutes putting the finishing touches to our favourite version of that Aristocrats story.
I’m joking, of course, but you’re not obliged to laugh.
What’s your ‘magic number’?
I have a list of all the people I’ve fucked. I know, that sounds intensely weird, and also a little bit creepy. I compiled it many years ago after a long, hazy night in a bar in Amsterdam, during which a good friend and I tried to work out what our ‘magic numbers’ were. I wasn’t particularly bothered about the total, but the exercise gave me pause for thought, and subsequent enraged weeping, when I realised that I couldn’t remember everyone’s name.
I thought I’d got it right at first. I counted people off on my fingers, smiling with glee when I got to a particularly good one, hissing when I reached the name of a person who’d fucked me over, and reminiscing over some of the filthier moments of my life. He did the same, regaling me with some sexy anecdotes as we sipped pints and hoped no one would notice that we were flagrantly ignoring the weird ‘you can smoke weed but not cigarettes’ rule that had just come into force.
Eventually, we both settled on our final numbers, and we clinked glasses – delighted at our powers of recollection.
An hour or so later, a cold dread crept over me: I’d missed one out. Not just any one either – a pretty significant guy, with whom I’d had some fairly intense experiences. Back to the mental drawing board, and the back of a napkin to make notes. And eventually the final list which, while possibly a bit strange, was a godsend when it came to writing my book: it meant I got the chapters in the right order and didn’t have to go back to cram in a quick fuck that I’d somehow forgotten.
The topless snowball fight
Hovering near the top of my ‘missed opportunities’ list, somewhere just behind ‘never getting round to that gangbang dinner party’ is a snowy afternoon in the early noughties.
Remember that time in your life when you were most carefree? Happiest? Most content in your body and intensely, hornily desperate to use it? Well, mine was around about then. Just before I’d started shagging, but long after I’d discovered boys. My weekends and evenings were spent huddled in whispering, weed-smoking, cider-swilling groups, competing with each other to contrive more imaginative ways we could get touched up by our equally-horny peers.
I miss those times.
Sex dolls: is loneliness more taboo than kink?
If you want to bend your partner over and beat them with a leather paddle, or be tied to the bedposts with soft bondage rope, blindfolded and shagged, there are a shitload of things out there that you can buy. Companies will be clambering over each other to sell you beating implements, rope and blindfolds along with a tonne of other exciting stuff you can turn on, lube up, and shove in your twitching rectum.
Which, as someone who enjoys all of the above, is a delight and a relief. After my first hushed-whispers visit to a sex shop about twelve years ago, I’m delighted that so much more of the stuff I love is not only available but openly encouraged. No more hiding things in a paper bag and wondering why I have “DIY solutions” on my credit card receipt.
But regardless of how much more comfortable we’ve become with our kinks, buying the kind of products that would have made us blush twenty years ago, there are some things you’ll still rarely see in ads and toy reviews: sex dolls.
Sexual fantasies you won’t find in the Journal of Medicine
So, that sexual fantasy list has been doing the rounds. A bunch of people did a study on sexual fantasies, asking another bunch of people to rate various desires on a scale based on how much they wanted to do them.
It’s great, because:
a) it’s allowed countless news outlets to go ‘OMG loads of people want to get fucked by a stranger!’ and
b) it gives me an excellent thing with which to gauge just how well my next blog about piss play will go down (not that well, but better than anything on goatfucking).
Essentially, it’s a long and indulgent list of some of my favourite things, many of which turn out to be more popular than I’d previously thought (well over a quarter of people fantasise about swinging, for example). It also – like most scientific and sexual things – gave me a thrill of joy to hear pervery discussed in the language of the academics. “Being masturbated by an acquaintance,” is up there as one of my favourite new phrases.
Problems with listing ‘sexual fantasies’
However, despite my feeling that it’s generally A Good Thing, I have a couple of problems with the sexual fantasies study.