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.

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?

Getting It On Gracelessly

Sex scenes in movies are always so perfect. Their clothes come off perfectly. They fit together perfectly. They change positions perfectly. Even the sounds to come out of their perfectly agape mouths are perfect.

Fucking bullshit.

Sex never happens like that. Everyone knows that leggings and skinny jeans are a bitch to get off. Someone always gets kicked in the head when switching positions, and someone’s always making a face  or saying something stupid that makes you want to smother them with a pillow.

Sometimes things just go wrong during sex. Sometimes it’s horrendous, sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes it’s kind of hilarious, and sometimes it’s just a sweaty amalgamation of the three. We’re only human, after all.

Here are some situations you just have to laugh through..

When a guy notices that your boobs are different sizes. So, I’m aware that most women have slightly different breast sizes, and that that’s completely normal, but I feel like mine are noticeably asymmetrical. As you always tend to be your own worst critic, I thought – even though the gap in my bra was real – maybe I was overplaying the difference in my mind, and just left it. It was never really something I thought about when getting naked with someone else, either, as no one ever mentioned it. Until they did. One night in my final year of university, I went home with this fucking moronic ginger boy who had had a thing for me for, like, a year. Things happened as they usually do. I later found out he may have been a virgin; this didn’t surprise me. The kid acted like I was the pot of gold at the end of his fucking rainbow. In reality, I’m more like a plastic cup full of pennies, so ginger virgin definitely made sense. Anyway, as I just lay there letting him do what he wanted until an appropriate amount of time had passed so that I could kick him out, he cupped both my boobs in his hands and said, ‘They’re different sizes. This one’s bigger; this one’s my favourite.‘ WHAT DO YOU SAY TO THAT?! There was nothing to do but laugh and agree and try to change the conversation. It didn’t happen again until a month or so ago when the Tinder Ginger did basically the exact same thing. I have come to the conclusion that gingers see boobs so rarely that they really fucking pay attention.

When you vom on a guy’s dick. This is mortifying, but fucking hilarious in retrospect. It’s my favourite story that I just never tell because I was so drunk it’s like it happened in a dream, and so I never remember it. Now listen, when I say ‘so drunk’, I don’t mean ‘can’t walk in my heels and offering blowjobs for McDonald’s’ kind of drunk. I mean it was definitely taking advantage of my state to go home with me. However, because we knew each other well, no one really thought anything of it even though they knew we shouldn’t have been shagging. Long story short, I think I passed out in the middle of proceedings, and when I came to, he was sitting on my torso, moving his cock towards my mouth. What a fucking gentleman. My memory fades out here, but from what I can gather, being the drunk slut I was, I gladly opened my big mouth and welcomed him in. Big mistake. The next thing I know, he’s wiping me down with a towel and I’m standing there saying, ‘Well that’s never happened before.‘ I wish I remembered actually being sick because it’s probably the funniest thing I’ve ever done – if you don’t agree, by the way, you really have no business being here – but I think my brain at the time classified it as traumatic and instantly blocked it out. In reality, it must have been a combination of the angle and the fact that I was too drunk to even have a raisin pass down my throat, but I like to think that my body just knew that the whole situation was wrong and decided to violently reject him.

When a guy refuses to go down on you. I have never had to ask for head before in my life. That’s not to say that it’s happened during every sexual encounter, but I’ve never felt like it definitely needed to be added to the roster enough to warrant asking for it. Additionally, I’m not much of a talker. You’re not going to get any verbal feedback from me no matter how much you ask for it. So, when this boy had his head between my thighs one night and JUST WASN’T DOING IT, I was so frustrated that when he asked, ‘What can I do?‘ I so meekly replied, ‘Can you put your mouth on it?‘ I die a little inside just thinking about it. So, when he looked up at me and said no, I just didn’t know what to do. I felt so awkward and exposed that my automatic response was to close my legs, forgetting that his head was still there. I think he thought I was trying to force feed him. Awkward. When I text Emily about it the next day, she told me that her friend yelled at a bloke who had refused to do it until he felt so bad that he just did it anyway – I like to think I handled it better than that, at least.

When a guy refuses to let you go down on him. I don’t tend to wait to be asked; I just do it. I’m kind like that. And I just so happen to be excellent at it so why not show off the skill set?  So, when this kid stopped me RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE, and said he ‘wasn’t feeling it‘, I was devastated. That may seem melodramatic, but it hit my confidence so hard that the first thing I did the next morning was text my friend saying, ‘Want a blozza? I got stopped mid-suck and feel inadequate‘. Obviously he did, and we ended up shagging later that night. I, however, did not feel the slightest bit better about myself even though I got the reaction that I wanted. The next time I saw the initial guy, though, he asked for head and loved it. And all was right with the world.

When you laugh in someone’s mouth. The first time I got with W, we were lying on his bed watching movies. They were my choices, so I think I was significantly more into them than he was; he talked the whole way through The Big Lebowski, and decided that Megamind was the perfect time to keep trying to get it on. I’ve seen both a shit tonne of times so basically know exactly what’s going on at any given moment and can anticipate what’s to come. So, there we were making out during this delightful children’s movie when my favourite line comes up – ‘Ollo‘. Because Megamind can’t say ‘hello‘. I burst out laughing in his mouth. Yes, I’m about 5 years old. He literally jumped away from me to the other side of the bed, whilst I carried on laughing. This was the second time we’d met. I think I semi-apologised, but more just explained that it was a fucking hilarious line. He edged towards me and said, ‘Don’t do that again. That was so awkward.’ 11 months later and it’s still my favourite memory with him.

Have you experienced any of these situations? What awkward things have you encountered during sexy times?

How To Avoid The Night Bus

If you are a regular human being, it is fairly likely that you have had to take a night bus home at least once in your life. If you haven’t, it’s exactly like the Knight Bus in Harry Potter, give it a try!

I hate the night bus. I hate that 80% of people on it are drunk (it doesn’t matter that I am, too). I hate that 90% of people on it are just plain fucking weird (it doesn’t matter that I am, too). I hate that if you fall asleep, the person next to you will try to steal your wallet out of your pocket. I hate that 18 year olds think that it’s okay to interact with you. I hate that it smells like McDonald’s (it doesn’t matter that I probably contributed to that). And I hate that it stops a 20 minutes walk away from my house and I have to run the risk of being raped and stuffed inside a suitcase to get back to my bed.

So, here are some handy tips to avoid all that!

#1  Get a taxi. Lol, jk. If you’re anything like me, you’re basically destitute and ‘taxi money’ is actually better utilised as ‘three more drinks and a shot money’. If, by the off chance, you are a fully fledged functioning member of society and you still, for some unknown reason, read my blog, a taxi is undoubtedly your best bet. But you already knew that.

#2  Stay with a friend. I know what I just said, but if there is a group of you, you can forfeit one drink and share a taxi. As there is also safety, and comfort, in numbers, you could also take the dreaded night bus together. They will be there to act as a buffer when weird boys try to get you to go back to theirs and ask if you and your best friend are ‘beating’. They will also (hopefully) make sure that you don’t get raped and suitcased on your way home. Sometimes travelling in packs doesn’t work out, though. Sometimes one of you will get off at the wrong stop whilst the rest of you have fallen asleep, missed the right stop, and ended up at the end of the line where you have neither your shoes nor your phone. Don’t worry, though; this is fairly rare. After all, you don’t turn 23 every day.

#3  Stay out all night. When you are young and excited about the world and your body bounces back like you’re part of the fucking Marvel Universe – this ends, and gets progressively worse, at the tender age of 22, by the way – staying out all night is a great idea. It helps that there are also a number of ways to do this.

  • Late, late, late night clubs. I’m talking like 6am close, here. Just drink like you’re in Mad Men and dance like you’re in Footloose until the sun rises, and then hop on a tube home to bed. You may think that sleeping during the day is a waste of your youth, but, really, what else have you got going on?
  • Food establishments. I’m talking 24 hour Starbucks, Subway, McDonald’s – all great shouts. When we were 18 and thought we were really cool acting like we didn’t have homes to go to, my friends and I used to stay in the 24 hour Starbucks in King’s Cross. I won’t lie though, if I saw people doing that now, I would judge the fuck out of them. Maybe I have grown up a little.
  • Public buildings. Okay, so I don’t really know what public buildings are open all night, but I’m assuming that if you’re out and trying to avoid the night bus, it’s likely you’re a student. So hit up campus! Last summer, after I finished my last exam, casual drinks with my two best boys turned into bar-hopping around Soho and flashing a boob at G-A-Y Late. As my friends don’t live in London, and I couldn’t rock up to my Asian household at 5am with two beautiful boys in tow, we decided to brave the city at night and took to the streets. After eating our Subways sitting on the curb like the hoodrats we are, it dawned on me that the library is open 24 hours and we could find shelter there. So, off we skipped to UCL. However, the feds campus security was on to us and we got turned away from both the Science Library and Foster Court (yes, I’m name dropping buildings you don’t care about, deal with it). According to the ‘Overheard at UCL’ Facebook page, we may have pleaded with security to allow us into the building because we just wanted to have a threesome – but who knows. Eventually, we stumbled our way into the main building and took cover until the trains started running again. My body hated me, but it was so worth it.

#4  Get lucky. Going back to someone else’s and having a lil bit lot of sexy time is the ideal way to avoid the night bus. Why? Because you’re getting laid, duh. So, you have two options here – a) you get your flirt on and find someone in da club to bang, or b) you booty call a big bootied hoe. Be warned, though, both may lead to a bus journey of shame in the morning..

a) to be honest, if you’re a girl, I don’t really recommend going back to some strange boy’s house – you know how I feel about being put in a suitcase. However, this doesn’t mean you can’t use them to buddy up and share a cab or bus with you. If things like stranger danger don’t cross your mind, though, by all means, go back to theirs! I actually really enjoying seeing different boys’ houses and bedrooms – and have more than once been told to stop looking around like I’m judging them. So, just remember, don’t be nosey in a way that may get you stabbed.

b) if you’re out and you already have a slice somewhere more convenient than your house, call them. There’s literally no shame in it; I did it a couple of weeks ago. It’s a win-win situation, you avoid shitty travel and you get laid – what more could you want?! If you’re really lucky, they’re also out somewhere nearby and can go back to their’s with you, because, let’s face it, it’s never particularly classy to turn up at someone’s off your face when they’re completely sober. On the other hand, if you’re worried about being classy, you’re reading the wrong blog.

So, there you have it! Some super simple ways to avoid the night bus! Do you ever partake in any of these? What kind of travel do you hate?

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?

You know that I could use somebody..

So, last night, after watching the new Made In Chelsea (yes, I watch it; no, I’m not ashamed of that) I was telling a friend how the show essentially leaves me with no faith in men. This quickly turned into a bit of a ‘men are shit’ moan as I started watching John Tucker Must Die afterwards. Though he was technically not wrong to counter with positing that women can also be pretty shit, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear and our conversation went something like this:

Me – True, except I don’t know any shady girls. But 90% of boys I know are shit to girls

W – True. 90% of girls I know use men

Me – I don’t use men

W – Tinder Ginger?

I matched Tinder Ginger (TG) a couple of weeks ago, and, after a few days of talking, he decided to strike whilst the iron was hot and ask to meet up. So, we pencilled in plans for the following week. However, whilst I was slightly tipsy and out with my friends that Friday, I messaged him and asked what he was up to. Long story short – we met up, went for a drink, and went back to his.

I don’t think I need to tell you what occurred back at his, but I will; SEX. Sex occurred. Sex occurred after four months of not occurring.

I didn’t need to clarify that for you, did I? Who wouldn’t understand that that was essentially the plan from the get go? What boy doesn’t take a drunk girl asking ‘wanna do something?’ on a Friday night to mean ‘wanna fuck?’

With that in mind, here’s the rest of the conversation with W:

Me – I don’t think I used him. He knew what that was

W – So? Knowing doesn’t stop it being using

Me – Not if it’s mutual

W – You Tindered him for just sex. That’s by definition using. You used him. You knew it was just sex. He clearly didn’t as he’s still talking to you

Me – No one meets on Tinder and has sex straight away and thinks it’s more than just sex

W – He does

Me – Nah, it’s friendly

W – Is this how you get all your friends?

I maintain that I didn’t use the boy because there’s no way he didn’t know what that whole dalliance was about, and I think that knowing does stop it from being using. I didn’t lie to him or deceive him in any way. He understood what I wanted and complied accordingly. Also, he had a fucking great time. A better time than me, even. I know because I kept count.

TG was actually a really nice guy – a 26 year old graphic designer who not only somehow found the patience to listen to his crazy one night stand talk about her love of penguins in children’s books, but also knew the books, and their authors and illustrators. We got along really well, minus his incessant need to cuddle, and I ended up staying ’til half past one the next day. But it was what it was, and I didn’t really expect to hear from him again.

After I left his house, I went to meet W for lunch (in my same clothes – so classy, I know), and in the twenty minutes it took me to get to Carnaby Street, I knew that I didn’t really have any intention of seeing him again. I’d gotten what I set out to get and so I was over it.

Okay, so I suppose if you want to be a pedantic little bitch about it, I may have used him. If you’re not a cunt, however, you’ll see that the negative connotations of ‘using someone’ don’t really apply here and no gingers were harmed in the quenching of my thirst.

What do you think? Did I use the kid? Or is it just part of the nature of adult sexual relationships?

Let’s talk progress

It’s March, guys. MARCH.

Yes, I am one of those girls who says, ‘OMG, WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?!’

Just let me have it. Please.

So, if you remember, before 2014 hit, I made a small list of things that I would like to leave behind in 2013. I won’t lie – I’ve not done very well. Like, at all. Here we go..

  1. W – basically, we’re friends again. Just friends, though; no shagging. I know what you’re thinking – what a fucking retard – and you’re probably right. I really hope not,  though. Things feel different this time. I wouldn’t say he’s changed, he’s just stopped lying. Maybe I’m an idiot to believe that, but I’ve had no reason not to. I’m still fairly wary but every day it gets a little bit better. I feel like we’re real friends now; we go for brunch, hit up museums, have drinks – real friend shit. Sure, we have a lot of ‘history’ and it gets dredged up a lot, but we also joke about being soulmate friends and how neither of us will find anyone better. Most importantly, though, we send each other voice notes singing Frozen lyrics – real friend shit. I’ll admit it, it’s a weird friendship and sometimes I don’t really understand it, but it’s so easy. It’s always been easy. I won’t say I think he’s a better person now than he was, but I do feel like he’s better to me. I’m not going to say any more about him as he’s vain as fuck and loves reading about himself too much, but for now, I’m happy we’re in each other’s lives.

    It’s verging on sad how much we love it

  2. Cake – exclude birthday cake and I’ve still done pretty badly. A few days into the year I had a dilemma – do muffins count as cakes? After asking around and being told that they in fact do, I refrained from eating the BLUEBERRY muffins for breakfast. Then the next morning rolled around and that restraint flew out the window. Whoops. I also ate some kind of cake bar which I didn’t think counted, but apparently did. And, I’ll just say it – I ate regular cake, too. I’m weak. Shut up.
  3. Vomming – I’ve actually stuck to this one! Despite having been drunk off my face multiple times since the New Year, I’ve managed to keep it under control. Mornings after are significantly better when you’re not being judged and reprimanded. I’ve really enjoyed being a (semi)responsible drinker – I’ve not done anything I’ve regretted which is boring refreshing.

    I no longer look like this

  4. Unsafe sex – you have to have sex to have safe sex. I don’t want to talk about it. Shut up.
  5. Unemployment – so, I went back to nannying for a while. Not for the hilarious and boisterous little boy that I used to look after, but for a nightmare incarnated in a four year old girl. I have multiple small cousins and am around children all the time yet I have literally never known anyone to cry so much. Ever. I understand kids are attached to their mothers, I do, but when she’s IN THE SAME HOUSE, there’s no reason to cry out for her. I could barely take her outside as she’d cry her heart out in the middle of the street and I’d worry that someone would think I’d kidnapped her. She cried so hard I thought she’d hurt herself. The kid had so much attitude as well, and I shit you not, she even hit me. I did not get paid enough for that shit. As for ‘real’ work, the situation is dire, guys. You are more than welcome to give me a job. Please.

How has the new year been going for you? Are you happy with 2014 so far? What would you like to change this month?