6 reasons not to fuck him on the first date

#1   You actually quite like him. 3/5 times he will not message you because you fucked him on the first date. 2/5 times he will message you, but only to fuck again. And 1/5 times, he’ll message you because he actually quite likes you, too. That’s real maths.

#2   You’re sad and/or mad because of another boy, and tend to make rash choices instead of confronting your feelings. Lashing out your fanny is not the answer; you will feel bad about it the next day.

#3   You’re worried about other people calling you a ‘slut’. If you’re a grown ass woman and you are potentially not doing something because you’re scared of what other people are going to brand you, you are not grown enough to be doing it.

#4   You think you’re a ‘slut’. Just don’t do it. You won’t feel good about it.

#5   You’re doing it for validation. We’ve all been there. Done it because we can. Because our skinny jeans took 3 minutes to get over our thighs that morning. Because he wanted to fuck us anyway. Having sex with a man because he calls you ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’ will not make you feel hot and sexy the next morning. You need to be a confident woman who loves and owns herself and her body first.

#6   You’re shit-faced. Almost irrelevant because you won’t really remember at the time, will you? But if you are intoxicated to the point at which you won’t remember what decision you made or why you made it, you should probably refrain from allowing strangers to enter you. If he’s a good guy, he won’t have sex with you in such a state anyway.

First kisses don’t always end with a twist, Kesha

I don’t know about you guys, but the potential of a first kiss scares me shitless. I can’t read signals – I don’t know what I’m feeling, let alone what the other person’s feeling. People don’t always have a ‘move’ à la Ryan Gosling in Stupid Crazy Love, SO HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF SOMEONE WANTS TO PUT THEIR MOUTH ON YOURS?

You wait for the ‘moment’.

I think that, often, those movie type magic moments are so fleeting that they’re really just hard to recognise, especially for a first kiss. When you know someone well, moments are there all the time – you can be smiling at each other on an escalator and know it’s the time to kiss. It’s not though, by the way, save that shit for private, you animals. Every first kiss is a new experience; every time is like exploring new territory. No, not literally the insides of their mouths, metaphorically, YOU ANIMALS. I think that unless you’re crazy confident, you can never guarantee that a kiss is on the cards, and this is why there’s no natural ‘moment’ for it. So, more often than not, the moment has to be fabricated. This can happen in a number of ways, some more standard and socially acceptable than others.

For the most part, no one really says anything before a first kiss, it’s usually all about ‘the eyes’. In my mind, I don’t even know how to make ‘the eyes’, but apparently I give them out all over the shop. Oh well. Boys are generally pretty good at picking up on this look, and that’s how they know they should go for it, especially in club type situations. After a date, or when you’re a tad more sober, however, it can be a little bit more difficult than that, and guys tend to come out with a line of sorts..

“So..” You know that awkward pause when you’re standing on the platform/at your bus stop after a great date but neither of you has really been explicit about your intentions? And you have 3 minutes until your appropriate mode of public transportation arrives and you’re not quite ready to say goodbye? And you don’t really want to leave without getting felt up a little bit? But no one’s doing anything? Yeah, that’s when one of you will be so bold as to say ‘So..’. And then you make out until TFL cockblocks you and it is glorious.

“Come here.”/’Get over here.” He says something to this effect, grabs you, and lays it on ya. This is probably my favourite, except for the split second of mild overwhelming panic when you’re not entirely sure what he wants you over there for. I enjoy that it is dominant without being forceful, and that the guy is confident enough to sense what you want and take charge of the situation. PERFECT.

“I really want to touch your face.” We’d been through three hours of drinks, a drunken walk home, and the whole of The Big Lebowski whilst lying on the bed together. No one had made a move, and to be honest with you, I was quite content with that. However, we had met on Tinder and pretty much planned for me to stay the night, so I knew a kiss was coming at some point. I just didn’t expect it to take so fucking long. I basically spent five hours wondering when the kid was going to make a move. We were lying really close on the bed, he kept touching my legs – it could have happened at any time. Eventually, he must have decided that the opening credits of Megamind really set the mood as he got closer and closer to my face and declared that he wanted to touch it. I should probably say that it wasn’t a completely random thing for him to come out with, as it is a well known fact that I freak out and smack anyone who touches my face, but, still. It was weird.

“You’re so awkward.” He wasn’t wrong, but that was definitely weird to say, right? So, we were sitting on his sofa (which he made an effort to let me know was from Heal’s) and I was downing my drink because he kept staring at me and I was hella unnerved by it. I told him to stop, he said his line, and then he just went for me. I was sitting with my knees up against my chest. I know I said I’m shit with signals, but I could not think of less inviting body language! How did he read my acute discomfort as his ‘moment’? He then later tricked me into his bedroom by saying he could hear his housemate at the door. His housemate was not at the door. I’m just that stupid.

How do you feel about first kisses? What’s the weirdest thing someone’s said to you before they’ve made their move?

Flirting with Fannies

A couple of weeks ago, I was so bored of boys that I switched my Tinder ‘discovery preference’ to females. No prior thought was put into the decision; I just did it. So, although I’ve never done more than kiss a girl, I do think they’re amazing. Girls are just better to look at. They have a way of being simultaneously delicate and strong, chaste and coquettish, and you can empathise with them in a way that you can’t with men. 

I think I went in to it with romanticised expectations of connecting on deeper levels and actually being able to have conversations with like-minded women, as opposed to wading through the shit that men tend to spew. I was wrong. So wrong.

Here are some things that I have learnt grossly generalised about the lady loving ladies of Tinder –

  • They are not afraid to show you their boobs, two messages in.
  • They are not afraid to ask to see your boobs, two messages in.
  • They love straight girls. Direct quote – ‘I love straight girls‘.
  • Asian girls are always shocked to find another Asian girl. Every. Single. Time.
  • They like to ask if you’ve ‘been with a lot of guys‘. 
  • They want to show you ‘how to lick pussy‘. Apparently it’s different when a girl does it.
  • They have no problem getting naked on those stupid Tinder ‘moments’ that ALL your matches can see for 24 hours. 
  • They want to sext. All. The. Time.
  • Tattoos and piercings are a big thing. 
  • 80% are super sporty.

Here is what I learnt about myself from flirting with fannies –

  • I am 100% more likely to show my boobs to a girl than a boy. Because that’s what happened.
  • I literally think eyebrows are everything. But I already knew that.
  • I’m essentially attracted to hotter versions of myself. Basically, Esmeralda.

This is what I think I look like when I put coloured contacts in. If only.

  • I have no problem telling anyone that I want to sit on their face.
  • I think sexting is really dull.
  • I would rather look at boobs than a dick pic.
  • I would rather look at a dick pic than a pussy pic.
  • Other people’s vaginas make me wonder about my own. 

Considering that two boys are currently trying to ask me out on dates and all the girls only want to talk about putting their tongues in unmentionable places, as opposed to actually doing it, girl-on-girl action does not seem to be on the cards. For now, at least. Disappointing, or what?

Ladies, have you experienced other girls on some kind of dating platform? Fellas, does your experience of girls differ greatly?

Oops!…I Did It Again

First off, can I just say – two song title titles in a row? I should be writing for Grey’s Anatomy.

So, if you remember, I was supposedly using this ginger kid I met on Tinder. I say supposedly because I really don’t think I was, but let me lay all this drama llama out there and you can decide for yourself..

I know I said I had no interest in seeing him again, but, as was inevitable, he did ask if I wanted to do something on Friday night – the ‘something’ obviously being sexy time. As I am incapable of making [good] decisions, I asked a selection of friends what I should do. Basically, they all said ‘NO’. Consequently, I said ‘yes’. I messaged TG back to finalise plans and to casually let him know that I wouldn’t be staying over. I don’t think he was overly happy with that as he asked, ‘oh, was it the cuddling?’ but he accepted it regardless.

The evening rolled around, I threw on a jumper and leggings (classic combo) and headed over to his. We drank some wine, had some sex, and he walked me to the bus stop.

What a freaking lovely evening. I didn’t feel like I had used him at all. Everyone else had been wrong. I was right, like always. Fuck the haterz etc.

So, after going to bed feeling satisfied, I woke up the next morning in agony. Literally, is there anything worse than a bruised vagina? It hurt to put pants on. It hurt to walk around. It hurt to pee. It hurt to just fucking sit down. Prince Harry had well and truly fucked me.

Obviously I then complained about it to everyone, basically to announce that I got laid again – like The Lonely Island but just a touch more subtle

Needless to say, not one soul offered me any sympathy. So, after being called a slut and getting told that I used the poor ginger again, I, like the trooper I am, used my banged up fanny as an excuse to lay on the sofa and watch reruns of Sex and the City all day.

Naturally, five hours passed by and I was late to start getting ready for my friend’s birthday shindig. I cried to my best friend over whatsapp about how none of my clothes felt comfortable and then eventually settled on leggings and a blouse – classic me.

Drinks and dancing was super fun, but once I realised that I would miss the last rail replacement bus and decided that I was completely against taking the night bus home, I messaged Ben and asked what he was doing. Not unto my surprise, he had all the time in the world for me and after a quick ‘but you’ll have to stay over’ caveat, I was on my way.

Look, I know how this sounds, but I really wasn’t just using his place as a means to avoid the nightbus (but if you knew how rapey my walk home is, you’d totally understand). The night went as you’d expect it to go, though I’m not sure that was wise considering the state of my vagina at the time. I did disclose the situation at hand when he collected me from the station – he seemed far too overjoyed at the thought of me opting to stay over just for cuddles –  so he was fairly careful with me, but it was still pretty rough going.

Sex aside, he’s nice to talk to and we do get on. But, alas, the kid, at some point during the night, administered what I like to call ‘the kiss of death’. HE KISSED ME ON THE FOREHEAD. THE FOREHEAD, GUYS. So, obviously that meant he had to go.

I’ve yet to meet someone who truly understands my hatred for this ungodly act. They get that it’s weird when boys you’ve just met in da club do it (trust me, it happens), and that it is a very affectionate thing to do, but, overall, most people think it’s actually really nice.

They are wrong.

It’s actually just really inappropriate. Forehead kisses are for real love. Forehead kisses are what I give my little cousins when I’m standing behind them and brushing their hair away from their little faces. Forehead kisses are what my grandparents give me. Forehead kisses are what I imagine my future husband will give me when I’m sitting at the breakfast bar in our kitchen and he’s just stolen my mug of coffee. Forehead kisses are not for booty calls. It’s just too much.

Couple this with the incessant need to cuddle, and it was game over for Tinder Ginger. We obviously just needed and wanted different things. Maybe it’s harsh, but I think it’s fair. And, because I’m a bitch, I obviously didn’t say this to him and  just ignored his subsequent messages instead. Whoops.

Although I still think that I didn’t use him, some of you may have re-evaluated your opinions! What do you think – did I use the kid?

‘I don’t know you won’t put me in a suitcase..’

Let’s be honest; the internet can be pretty fucking shady. You never know what’s really going on or who you’re really talking to. We’ve all seen Catfish; relative anonymity is a powerful tool. So, when it comes to internet dating, or meeting anyone from any kind of social media platform, really, you can never be too careful. I grew up in a fairly protective household, and although I thought my parents overdid it, their weariness of strangers has definitely rubbed off on me. You don’t know who’s sitting behind the keyboard; everyone is a potential rapist or murderer.

Save for when I was 15 and would talk to strangers over MSN and MySpace, I had no real experience in talking to people I didn’t know until my friends and I all got ourselves on Tinder last summer. My initial impressions weren’t great, as the first message I received was:

You look like you’re a naughty girl.

Needless to say, he was promptly blocked. Slightly more wary, I continued to sift through the abundance of unappealing boys with no chat until I came across one who was basically my twin. We got along like a house on fire, and ended up talking consistently for days. After a few days, he started to mention that we should meet up, which, of course, scared me shitless. I’d already sort of eliminated the Catfish worry, as we’d obviously already exchanged Snapchats by then, and I had indeed confirmed that he was the same boy in his pictures. To be honest, though, as Tinder profiles are connected to Facebook profiles, I’m not overly worried about someone not physically being the same person. Sure, he may be the brown haired boy in the suit, but so was Patrick Bateman.

YOU WOULD NEVER KNOW

After endless excuses, I finally admitted that I was just plain ol’ scared – that I didn’t know he wouldn’t put me in a suitcase. He thought I was being irrational, I was as serious as I’d ever been. That week, a girl in her mid-twenties had been found in a suitcase near where I live, and her murderer has only just been found guilty. Stories like this, sadly, come around far too often – you really never can be too careful. Before you start, I obviously don’t mean to trivialise what happened to this poor girl. It’s just that sometimes you can’t just say, ‘sorry, I’m scared you’ll rape and murder me’. Like I said, the internet is pretty fucking shady, and you can never be too careful. So, without further ado, here are some of the results of the ‘suitcase line’..

W – The first time I threw this worry out there, the first time I ever met anyone off of the internet, was with W. When I first met him at a pub around the corner from the library, he whatsapped me saying, ‘I’ll be the one with the suitcase’ – I laughed, but it didn’t put me at ease. Two days later, when I ended up in his bedroom, he pointed out everything that he would be able to fit me in if he chopped me up. I felt at ease when it dawned on me that boys may also have reservations when it comes to going home with strangers – as we were falling asleep he mumbled, ‘don’t steal my shit while I’m sleeping’. Classic.

J – Click the link for some context on this kid; it’ll help infinite amounts. To summarise, though, J was essentially a massive toff and, unsurprisingly, was not amused by my suitcase fears. Obviously he was just boring. When he met me at the station and we started walking towards the pub, he said that he had considered picking me up in his car because it was raining. He then went on to explain that he didn’t because he knew I wouldn’t be cool with getting into a stranger’s car, especially as his car has tinted windows and looks a little bit rapey. As he saw my brow start to furrow, he quickly let out a nervous, ‘and there’s a suitcase in the back’. My mouth literally dropped. I decided he was kidding. So, after a brief return to his house for more drinks and ‘privacy’, I let him give me a lift back to the station. I tentatively opened the front passenger side door to the rape car and peered around the front seat. Lo and behold, there it was – a big arse suitcase. I got in the car regardless as I figured that if he was going to murder me, he would have done it already. I ignore his messages now.

P – This kid was undoubtedly the cutest. He had a youngish face and seemed really sweet, which obviously meant I needed to be extra careful. He laughed off the suitcase line with an, ‘I only have a duffel’ and I was hooked. He added me on Facebook to put me at ease and off I went to meet him for sex drinks. Drinks went swimmingly – he was boyishly charming and I was endearingly awkward – so we moved the party back to his. He had told me that night that he was in the process of moving house, so I expected to walk into a mess of a flat. However, what I found myself in was far, far worse. The place was barren. BARREN. There was literally nothing there but the furniture that came with the place. The fridge was unplugged. There were no toiletries in the bathroom. THERE WERE NO SHEETS ON THE BED. I knew it; he was going to murder me. This was the most suitcasey situation, ever. I questioned him endlessly. Was this even his flat?! Eventually he threw me on the bed and had his way with me. His innocent little face was a lie. He fucked like Christian Bale in American Psycho (minus the mirror). I stopped waiting for a suitcase and started anticipating a fucking chainsaw. As you can see, though, I survived to tell the tale.

There have been other miscellaneous responses – I get a lot of, ‘could you fit in a suitcase?’ Sorry, are you implying that I’m huge? Some boys play along, some boys think it’s insensitive – so it’s also kind of a way to gauge how fucking dull they are, too. Essentially, though, my point is that you should always be safe. Always meet in public places and always let someone know where you are. Don’t let anyone put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable or at risk. They WILL try to do this; I am genuinely shocked by the amount of boys that think I will just turn up on their doorstep without having properly vetted them first. Men are morons.

Nando’sDategate

If you’ve not heard already, apparently a footballer took a girl to Nando’s A YEAR AGO, and she’s pissed off about it. Let’s be honest, this story is ridiculous. When I first read it, I, like everyone else, questioned why it was even being considered a story. Since when is a date to Nando’s saleable and newsworthy; who is ever disappointed with Nando’s?!

I know nothing about football or the men who play it, but Google tells me that Adnan Januzaj is an 18 year old winger/attacking midfielder (what does that even mean?) for Manchester United. His date, Melissa, claimed that he made her pick him up and pay for parking before announcing that they would be going to Nando’s. He was garbed in trackies, she was in a dress and heels. He paid £18 for dinner, and then took her to a three-star hotel to watch The X Factor.

The girl obviously Googled him before the date, and, to be honest, I’d have probably definitely done the same. You can’t base expectations off of someone’s Wikipedia page, though. Just because you know that someone earns £30,000 a week, it doesn’t mean that they have any intention or obligation to spend a significant amount of it on you.

I expected him to come to me in a flashy car, but I ended up driving him about in my old blue Fiesta and I was left to pay and display. Then he said he was taking me to Nando’s – my face fell.

I usually go there for a quick bite to eat with my mates. I didn’t expect to be going there on a date with a Man United footballer, especially in my dress and heels.

It’s almost irrelevant that he plays for Man U; I mean, he’s 18, for fuck’s sake! What would you really expect? This girl is 25 – she should have known better. In what reality do 18 year old boys deliver what she’s looking for? When I turned 18, my friends threw me a surprise birthday dinner at Nando’s; it was amazing and a joyous time was had by all. In fact, fuck my friends, as soon as I saw that little black and red cockerel, I expected to have a good time. What the fuck was this girl’s problem?

Her story clearly reflects badly on her, as opposed to on Adnan. She obviously sought out to make him look cheap, but instead came off looking shallow and bitter. It’s far too easy to throw around the term ‘gold-digger’, but it’s just too wonderfully fitting. Melissa makes it painfully clear that she is all ‘expect, expect, expect’, and this, sadly, reflects poorly on women.

I don’t know what world she’s living in, but when I go on a date, I don’t expect anything other than to, hopefully, have a nice time. It’s nice when men pick up the bill, and they often do, but it’s not inherently necessary or expected. Even if my date is a few years older, and I’m one hundred percent sure that they make good/more money, I always offer to split the bill or buy the next round. They mostly always reject this idea, and whether I decide to push it further or let it go tends to depend on how poor I am at the time. Regardless of the outcome, though, I am always thankful and they always appreciate that I’ve offered. It’s not a feminist thing; it’s a being a nice person thing.

By openly voicing her expectations of Adnan, and, by extension, all men, Melissa is essentially telling the world that she feels entitled to certain things because she has a vagina. What does this say about women? Where does it leave us after having fought so long to be seen as more than a plate of pussy with a side of tits?

Imagine if she had gotten what she expected. Imagine if Adnan had turned up in a ‘flashy car’, and had taken her to a fancy dinner (no drinks as he was actually 17 at the time), and had fucked her senseless in a five-star hotel. Imagine that. I imagine her story would have read that she only fucked him because he expected her to. Clearly, that’s the sort of person she is, and her tacky and pathetic story showcases it perfectly for.

Though, I’ll give her one thing, Adnan, you shouldn’t have gone on a date in trackies. But other than that, you’re better off without her. She looks cheaper than the chicken, anyway.

The DENNIS System aka The Bullshit We Keep Falling For

First off, if you’ve never seen an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you’re doing life wrong. It’s on Netflix; watch it. I don’t have Netflix, but pretty much every man I’ve slept with does, so I figure it’s fairly common and that, if you’re not currently destitute like I am, you probably have it, too.  Anyway, It’s Always Sunny is an awesome show. It has that classic ‘friends who own a bar together and get up to all sorts of shit’ set-up, and Danny DeVito’s in it. What more could you want?

The show is definitely not for the sensitive or highly strung; if you’re offended by not-so-casual sexism or racism, if you have a problem with drug use, prostitution and taking advantage of those less fortunate, or essentially don’t like anything morally depraved, maybe give it a miss. Each character is unbelievably obnoxious and selfish, devoid of any sense of human decency or decorum, but, fuck, they’re hilarious. The writing on the show is genius and the chemistry between the cast is inimitable – but I’m not here to give a review, just watch it!

In one episode, the group’s resident lothario and probable sociopath, Dennis Reynolds, teaches the gang his bulletproof system for getting countless women to fall hopelessly in love with him – The D.E.N.N.I.S System.

The way that he embarks on each step may be more than a little extreme, but that’s just the nature of the show. You don’t need to ‘Nurture Dependence’ by calling her house and pretending to be a murderer or rapist, most girls start to become unwittingly dependent just through text conversations alone. I don’t think The D.E.N.N.I.S System is at all unique to Dennis. I think that a lot of boys do it, and a lot of girls, myself included, get sucked in. This is what you’re falling for, ladies:

Demonstrate Value

The idea here is that once a man demonstrates his value to a woman, she’ll realise his worth and that she needs him in her life. Being 23 and not looking for value beyond the ability to make me laugh and cum (even if at the same time), I’m not entirely sold on this step, though I think it’ll become increasingly relevant as I get older and do understand where it’s coming from. After all, why would you want someone who doesn’t add anything to your life?

Engage Physically

It is commonly thought that women develop stronger feelings and become more attached once they ‘Engage Physically’. I have friends that this holds extremely true for, and friends that it doesn’t apply to at all – we’re not a one size fits all kinda deal, guys. Having said that, I would say that most girls I know fall in the former. So, by doing the sex, boys become fairly certain that their girl isn’t going anywhere. I don’t know if they think it’s because of the ‘connection’ they’ve just created or because they think their D is so good she won’t want to go anywhere, but, sadly, it does seem to work.

Nurturing Dependence

It’s no mistake that this step follows on from all the sexy time. Once a man’s clumsily bruised my breasts, fingered me like he’s digging for gold in a Smarties tube, and then gotten jizz in my hair, of course I’m going to be putty in his hands. This is the perfect time to nurture that. Contrary to what the show may suggest, you don’t need to hire someone to stab your lover, narrowly missing a major artery so that you can then nurse them back to health, thus making them dependent on you. Like I said, a lot of gals will fall for something as simple as texting. I hadn’t thought of it in terms of dependence until just now, as I think I, like most people, saw it more in terms of attention; it’s all that ‘if he texts you, it means he’s thinking about you’ bullshit we’ve been fed. How many times have you heard a girl say she just wants someone to text? Apparently, we love that shit, and, essentially, once the chat’s started, we don’t want it to stop. Dependence.

Neglect Emotionally and Inspire Hope

Even if you don’t really buy into the rest of this ‘system’, you know these are fo’ real. I put these two together because they really do go hand in hand. Dennis is basically saying to play hot and cold. Hands up if this has happened to you. I imagine this has probably happened to everyone ever, regardless of gender, but in my experience, boys are especially good at it. They nurture all this dependence, making you want to talk to them and see them and even fake your way through mediocre banging, just to pull a disappearing act on you. You then spend days, or even weeks, wondering what you did to make them behave this way. Then, just when you’re ready to stop wallowing and move on, they reappear. Obviously you’re so elated that they’ve come back to you with whatever lame excuse they’ve made up that you look past it and jump into bed with them straight away. Maybe you even let them give you that facial they’ve been begging for. It’s great. You’re lying in one another’s arms, basking in the afterglow of their orgasm, because obviously you didn’t have one, and everything is perfect. Two days later, they disappears again. It becomes a cycle because you allow it to. I’m telling you now, end it before they decides to go ahead and

Separate Entirely

Oh, you didn’t? How unsurprising. Oh, they’re gone for good? How predictable.