Dreams Can Come True

Until recently, the last time I received anal sex was in 2012. A one point I thought there was something wrong with my anus from having too much anal, so I stopped because of that (turns out it’s fine), but it was mainly because I started to realise the double standards around anal, and how some men were expecting us to be willing to be fucked in the arse, when some of them would freak out if you even tried to put a finger in there. So I made a rule not to let a guy fuck me in the anally, unless he was willing to let me fuck him anally. I still allowed fingers and thumbs (and some anal beads one time), but for 5 years no dick crossed the threshold.

I bought a strap on because it was my dream to peg a guy, but the only time it ever got used was when I had sex with women. One day in early 2014, a guy I had fucked a couple of times asked me to use it on him, but I wasn’t mentally prepared for it, and we hadn’t had sex for a while, so I said ‘just fuck me first and then maybe we can do that after’. Sadly that time he came really quickly, left, and I never saw him again. I regretted not doing it for ages. But maybe it wasn’t meant to be with him. After all, your first time is supposed to be special.

I’ve heard the line that a lot of straight men don’t want something in there because they think it’s a bit ‘gay’, but that’s bullshit. Also, have you ever heard a straight woman say they don’t want to receive oral sex because ‘that’s what lesbians do’?! No, of course not. The irony of men wanting to fuck women in the arse and not wanting it in return is that men have actually got a g-spot up in there and WE DON’T. One of my female friends recently received anal for the first time from her male partner and afterwards when she said it was just ‘ok’ he said ‘but don’t you have a prostate up there?’

HEAD DESK.

I blame mainstream porn.

Anyway, I enforced my rule very well, until my crazy sex night in March, then in April I started dating a guy from Tinder. We had sex on the third date and he put his finger inside my arsehole,  and the next time I put my finger in his. I asked him whether he would let me fuck him with my strap-on, and he said ‘probably’, and I thought he might, because he seemed very sexually open minded, but I wasn’t totally sure. But on the 5th date, I was super horny, so I fucked the rules again, and told him he could do it to me.

I know some women, who have said that anal can feel quite good – perhaps their vaginal wall is quite thin, so it’s more easily stimulated, but some others do just find it uncomfortable. For me, I kind of enjoy the fact that it hurts, and that it’s causing me pain while giving them pleasure. It was nice that he fingered me for a while first and used lots of lube though, which meant the pain wasn’t overwhelming, like it has been in the past sometimes when guys just stick it in.

On the 6th date, he came to one of my gigs (I did my anal sex joke about the double standards), and then when we got home I asked if he really was going to let me do it to him. He said ‘What now? Ok.’ and having learnt my lesson from my last missed opportunity, I did not waste any time in getting out some lube and starting to finger him.

I sucked his cock while putting my fingers inside and eventually worked my way up to four fingers. My strap-on is quite thick, so he definitely needed this. I had previously searched online for good positions for pegging, so decided to try some of these out. One of them was him lying face down (which I particularly enjoyed because I could pull his hair while doing this), and the other was me sitting on the edge of the bed while he backed onto me.

We did briefly try him lying on his back with me on top but he found it too painful, which is a shame, as I wanted to be able to look him in the eyes while fucking him.

And I would have liked to try some other positions, maybe lying on our sides or standing up against a wall, or fucking him over a table while pushing his head into a container of water. You know, all the classics.

I found it quite difficult to fuck him and stimulate his dick at the same time, and I definitely think he enjoyed the fingering and blow job more than the actual pegging, (enjoying the foreplay more than the penetration – welcome to our world), but obviously it was my first time doing it to a guy, so there is still lots to learn. The best thing about it was that he trusted me enough to let me do it to him, and was willing to let me live out a fantasy.

Obviously the main difference between a woman fucking a guy with a strap-on and a man fucking a women’s arsehole, is that the strap on is not part of me, so I am not getting the same physical enjoyment. My strap-on can vibrate, but this was not close enough to my clit for me to feel the effect from it. So for me, fucking a guy like this is more of a mental turn on. It did make me feel powerful, and happy that even though I had let him do it first, technically I hadn’t broken my rule again.

In my joke, I say that it’s my dream to do it while listening to the Spice Girls, because that’s true Girl Power, then I say I’m only joking – I’d do it to Blurred Lines, as that would be more appropriate. But there wasn’t really a right moment to stop and open up Spotify to put on my pre-prepared Spice Girls/Blurred Lines playlist. I also think it would be fun to dress up while doing it, in heels and my dominatrix style dress. Maybe next time I can do all this. Hopefully I will get to do it again in the future, whether that’s with him or with someone else.

So in the words of Gabrielle, dreams can come true, and yes, it’s not always when or exactly how you expect them to, but I’m glad I finally found a guy not constrained by gender norms and expectations, and not afraid to try something new…

Living in the moment

I’m addicted to my phone. I have it with me all the time. I check it probably hundreds of times a day. I spend hours messaging people and hours on social media. It runs my life. Phone addiction is a real thing, and I’m sure there are people reading this that have the same problem. It’s widely known now that when you check your phone and you have a notification, it increases your dopamine levels, and that’s why we keep doing it.

I feel more and more that smart phones have ruined my attention span and ability to focus. Sometimes I will be listening to a podcast or watching a TV show, and I will still check Twitter or be Whatsapping someone at the same time. It’s distracting, time wasting, and bad for your health. I often have days where I think what did I actually do today? And the answer is just play on my phone.

At the weekend I went away to Suffolk for a friend’s wedding. I didn’t know there was going to be a beach nearby so that was a nice surprise, as I fucking love beaches. (Not packing a bikini did not stop me, as I can swim just as mediocrely in a vest top and shorts). There was no signal at all on the beach, and it made my beach experience so much better.  I did take some pictures but that only took a few minutes.

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The rest of the time, I wrote my morning pages and then I swam for ages because there was literally nothing else for me to do. It was a great spontaneous artist’s date, that I could just enjoy for what it was without mindlessly scrolling my Facebook news feed.

On the walk back to the B&B I got signal, (this was handy to check I was walking in the right direction because I’d got a lift on the way there), but the walk took longer than it was meant to, as I kept checking my phone. I did have to send one message about arrangements for getting to the church later, but the others could have waited. I also accidentally sat on a stinging nettle when I stopped to do stuff on my phone, so I guess that was the universe’s way of telling me to get off my fucking phone. Having said that, I discovered that I actually quite like the feeling of stinging nettles, and could totally incorporate this into some kinky outdoor sex in the future.

Recently I have been trying to put my phone on flight mode when I want to get stuff done, but I still find that 5 minutes later I will just take the phone off flight mode. Today I really wanted to try and break this habit, so I intentionally went out without my phone for probably the first time in about 16 years.

And again, without being able to use my phone, I had an awesome time. I took some bags to the recycling centre, then walked to Ally Pally park. With no phone to distract me, I noticed my surroundings more. I looked at the clouds. I watched a bee pollinate every flower in sight, and enjoyed the feeling of the grass under my skin and bare feet.

It was a little frustrating not being able to take any photos, but I soon got over it. I wrote a few poems in my notebook and appreciated  just being in the park. I wished I’d taken my hula hoop, so maybe I will do that in future. I had no idea what time it was, because I haven’t worn a watch since circa 2004, but there was something really lovely about this. Eventually I realised I was going to get hungry soon and needed to get some dinner. So next time I will take food too.

Being in the shops was another challenge, as I didn’t have anything to occupy myself while queuing, but it was actually okay. I channelled my inner 90s gal and it worked. I feel like we were all so much more patient back then. Because you had to be. You had to wait for so long for everything. Music, TV Shows, Movies, Dial Up Internet.

You had to actually phone someone on a landline if you wanted to talk to them. And sometimes they weren’t in.  If you wanted to skip a song, you had to fast forward and then guess when to stop it. And then maybe sometimes you went too far and you had to rewind. When you stopped that cassette tape in just the right place, that was a satisfying moment. We don’t have moments like these anymore. Everything is at our fingertips, which is why we get so impatient if someone doesn’t text back straight away or our WiFi stops working. But maybe we should learn some of the patience we had back then.

When I got home, I resisted the urge to check my phone, and put my food in the fridge first. Then I went on my phone and immediately lost 10 minutes of my life to Twitter, so now it’s on flight mode, and has been for the last three hours. Go self control. I’m definitely going to try and go out without my phone more often, and hopefully this will train my brain not to check it all the time when I do have it with me. Because I don’t want to look back on my life and realise I wasted half of it staring at a little screen.

Smartphones are great, and social media is great –  I wouldn’t have so many people reading my blog without it. But like everything in life – they need to be consumed in moderation.

Stuck in the ’90s

On Wednesday I turned 32. Which I always remember is the same age Brittany Murphy was when she died. Which makes me want to clean my shower properly, so I don’t get toxic mold poisoning. But I hate cleaning. Or do I? More on that later.

When I was a teenager I thought that 32 was super old. I couldn’t imagine being that old. Or if I could, I thought by 32 I would be ‘settled’, probably married with children. I guess because that’s what you assume when you are a kid. That’s the narrative you’re sold, especially as a girl, and especially when I was younger and we didn’t have Frozen to teach us that true love can come from your sister, not just from a man.

Although I didn’t have a sister, so that would probably have just pissed me off. I couldn’t understand as a kid why my mum couldn’t just give me a sister, because I didn’t know that some things do need to come from a man.

But anyway…anyone who knows me or follows me on any social media knows that I am obsessed with the ’90s, which is ironic because we didn’t have social media in the ’90s. I didn’t even have a hotmail account until 2001.

It confused me when I was younger why my mum was obsessed with the ’60s and would still listen to The Beatles and The Supremes – I was like ‘ listen to some new music, mum!’ before slamming my door and putting on the Spice Girls.

But as we all are doomed to turn into our mothers, despite our best intentions (HEAD DESK), now I basically haven’t moved on since circa 1999. I still wear shag bands and chokers, watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer on a regular basis, and recently sang Jennifer Paige’s song Crush at karaoke (while on a Tinder date which I realise is not very ’90s).

So I thought, what better way to spend my birthday evening with my mum than to go and see ‘2 Become 1’. A 90s themed musical (with real 90s songs). It opens with one of the characters Jess sobbing into her landline after a break-up, and singing All Saints Never Ever (All Saints was the first concert I ever went to) before her 3 friends persuade her to go to a speed dating event.

It had everything I had hoped for and more – Shania Twain, butterfly clips, hilarious facial expressions, audience interaction, Titanic, 3 Spice Girls songs, dance routines, Britney, Gina G Ooh Ah Just a Little bit, and not one – but two Buffy References! They even managed to mix ‘I’m Horny’ and ‘Genie in a bottle’ together. It totally embodied the sense of fun that the ’90s were all about.

And there were free badges! I am now the proud owner of a badge that says ‘No Scrubs’ on it.

I loved that there were some references to the way some men see women (‘he wants you to suck his cock, but pretend like you’re doing it for the first time’), and the crap that we read in women’s magazines.  There was also some dramatic irony about how online dating will never catch on because it’s better to meet someone in real life, and the character Molly imagining a terrible world where we don’t have a Labour government and there are loads of cuts to the NHS, and the arts.

It was basically a wonderful trip down memory lane for me, even though it made me a bit sad that I never had a Tamagotchi. (Belated birthday present anyone?)

I do feel sometimes like the 90s was a better, more innocent time, sure we had lads mags, but there was something more tongue in cheek about it, plus we had Girl Power to balance it out. And I’m sure loads of bad stuff was still happening (I remember the war in Kosovo) but we didn’t hear about every bad thing all the time because no one had Twitter. The 90s was a time when a Union Jack dress was nothing to do with Brexit and a troll was a toy you would collect.

There was so much hope! (Before the ultimate disappointment when your cassette tape got tangled and even a pencil couldn’t save it). Especially with New Labour. I loved Tony Blair so much at one point that it was my dream to become a politician. Not even joking. Can you imagine? I mean I do have the legs for it.

Maybe 2017 can be the new 1997? The small optimistic part of me wants to believe that on the 9th of June we can tell Theresa May to talk to the hand ’cause the face ain’t listening. And if not I plan to get drunk and listen to Nirvana. Actually I will do that either way.

Although the 90s resonate with me and I love them, I don’t necessarily love who I was then. It’s easy to idealise the past, but I’ve changed so much  and I much prefer the person I am now. And yes I’m not where I thought I would be at 32. But I discovered that I don’t want a conventional 2.4 children life, and also more recently that sometimes I hold myself back because of self-fulfilling prophecies I have about myself.

I spent years telling myself I couldn’t be good with money, or tidy, or good at cleaning, or able to achieve certain things but that’s just me limiting myself when there should be No Limits, and now in the words of Ultra Nate, I’m free to be who I want to be.

I also think I’m starting to get the balance of simultaneously living for the present and planning for the future. As Buffy would say ‘seize the moment ’cause tomorrow you might be dead’.

So yes, I am stuck in the 90s, and I think that’s okay as long as it’s musically and fictionally, not mentally. I do have to accept that it’s not 1997 anymore, and that’s a good thing. Maybe I’ll even start listening to some up to date music. While I clean my shower. I just need some 90s nostalgia to Spice up my Life sometimes.

P.s. If you’re reading this before Edinburgh Festival 2017, go and watch ‘2 Become 1’ before you regret it like I regret never seeing the Spice Girls live (which was going to be the band I hadn’t seen on my list of ten bands, except I don’t do bullshit Facebook fads like that).

2 Become 1, written by Natasha Granger and Kerri Thomason, was at King’s Head Theatre Islington, 12th April 2017 – 29th April 2017 and will be at The Gilded Balloon Teviot (Venue 14) Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2017 – Tickets here

The Best Kind of Sex

The best kind of sex is the sex you didn’t know you would be having when you woke up that morning. The kind that blindsides you some idle Monday, because you thought he had a girlfriend, and you wouldn’t get to fuck him again for a very long time. And yes you said you were giving up casual sex, but really you meant you were giving up casual sex with idiots from the internet that you just met.

The best kind of sex is casual sex with a man you know really well, whom you have nostalgia and memories with. Who knows what you like, what to say and do. Sex where there’s no ‘what will this lead to?’, because you already played that scenario out, and he doesn’t want to be (metaphorically) tied down. The best kind of sex is sex with an ex, partly because it rhymes.

The best kind of sex is the sex where beforehand you have deep conversations, mixed with flirtation, and when you insult and tease each other, you start getting very turned on.

The best kind of sex is the sex where you’re really excited about playing chess first and you get drunk and play strip chess, (and you win). Even though you’ve seen each other naked loads of times, but he hasn’t seen your tits since they grew a whole cup size. And you’d forgotten just how beautiful his nipples are.

The best kind of sex is aggressive, filthy, and funny. Sex where he chokes you, and sticks his fingers down your throat. Where he pulls your nipples so hard that you scream, and he covers your mouth with his hand. The best kind of sex is the sex where he goes down on you, while you grab his hair, and you ride his mouth with your pussy. Then you kiss him and you can taste yourself on his lips, and you love the taste. The best kind of sex is the sex where Garbage is playing in the background, so you’re getting wine, kinky sex, and ’90s nostalgia, and these are three of your favourite things in the whole world.

The best kind of sex is the sex where his dick is really hurting you inside by hitting against your back wall, so you accidentally say ‘maybe you should just put it in the back hole instead’, and you instantly regret it, because you know that there’s no going back now.

The best kind of sex is the sex where you let him give you anal, even though you haven’t done it for so long, because you have that rule now about not receiving unless you’ve given first. But you break that rule for him, because he’s already been in your arsehole, in fact he was the last guy in your arsehole.

The best kind of sex is the sex where he fucks you in front of a mirror because he wants you to see yourself being abused. Sex where you hate it, but you love it, but you hate it, but you love it.

The best kind of sex is the sex where he falls off the bed and you can’t stop laughing, the sex where you accidentally push one of his balls back up inside him, so he looks really angry when he cums. The sex where he cums on your face, in your hair, and a little bit in one of your eyes.

The best kind of sex is the sex where he cuddles you after to comfort you after all the nasty things he did to your body. Where you can be gentle and spoon each other, and you sleep like this in a post sex glow.

The best kind of sex is the sex where you wake up in the morning and he wants to fuck you again, but you’re half asleep, so he wanks over your face. But it’s taking ages, and you accidentally start talking about recycling and contact lenses, which he tells you is not good sex talk, but you both laugh about it.

The best kind of sex is the sex where he wants you to wank him off instead, and says that most girls aren’t that good at it, but the way you do it feels amazing, so you give him one of the best hand jobs you’ve ever given, and he comes all over your tits, while looking and sounding like he just had the best orgasm of his life.

The best kind of sex is the sex where he says for some reason he thought it might be shit, but he had a great time, because he really has a way with words, and it reminds you of the backhanded compliment Hugh Grant gave you once about your stand-up.

The best kind of sex is the sex you can feel the next day (and the day after that). Sex where you’re hungover, and both your holes are throbbing. Sex where your whole body aches, where you ache in places you didn’t think it was possible to ache in after sex. Sex where you have the beginning of a bruise on your cheek from where he slapped you over and over, and when you get in the shower, your nipples sting under the water from how sore and swollen they are. Sex where while you’re typing this, you can feel the cystitis that you knew was coming.

The best kind of sex is the sex where it’s violent, painful, pleasurable, affectionate, intimate, and most of all – fun. The best kind of sex is the kind of sex you want to have all over again…

Why I gave up casual sex

I re-joined OkCupid a few weeks ago. I’m not sure why. I think I was probably bored. Or maybe I just wanted some attention. I guess I thought maybe it would help me get laid. ‘Why do I need help getting laid?’ I hear you ask – well there were a few guys I know that I could probably have sex with, but for whatever reason, I’d made the decision not to – maybe I didn’t fancy them enough, or maybe I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction (you know who you are), or maybe a bit of both.

OkCupid is different to Tinder in that anyone can message you, even if you don’t have a match, so as a woman looking for men, you get inundated, mostly from men who make you recoil in horror and/or can’t string a sentence together. After spending a lot of time deleting messages, blocking guys, and despairing at the world, you start getting a few half decent guys messaging you. I started talking to one, a student architect. He was 26, looked kind of cute in his pics, and it said something on his profile about how he was looking for a girl to corrupt him. Just my type, I thought.

We moved to WhatsApp, and talked over Christmas. It was discussed that we might go home together if meeting up went well, then he started sending me really weird questions such as:

‘Are you good at sex?’

‘Was that (bikini pic on my profile) recent?’ – I told him it was from 2014 so it was followed up with ‘Still got a slim body?’

‘How tall are you?’

‘What’s the height of the mattress on your bed?’

‘Have you got nice feet, do you think?’

‘Are these questions too weird?’

And then finally my favourite of them all:

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DO I LIKE FOREPLAY??!!!

I was transported back to my younger days when I didn’t realise why sex didn’t feel that good because I (and some of the guys I was with) didn’t know that you’re supposed to spend lots of time on the pussy (and other places) before you stick your dick in it. I told him I like having my nipples pulled and being slapped in the face. He said he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with the latter, which reminded me of my most recent blog post.

I said I wasn’t sure about us still meeting up, I didn’t know if we would be sexually compatible, or that he was sexually experienced enough for me. He said that he’s different in real life, and we should at least go for a drink and see.

So against my better judgement, I went to meet him at the tube station and we went to The Duke of Edinburgh pub (shout out to old Wood Green work colleagues). He was cute, but there was something really awkward about him, and although we had a bit of a chat and found some common ground, (we both went to Uni in Leicester, although he’s a De Montforter, so I win). I didn’t really like him as a person, and there was barely any actual chemistry, just two bored people, slightly attracted to each other, sitting in a pub together.

We had a couple of drinks, then I suggested we play pool, as I thought this would bring some excitement into the evening. It was fun, and I very almost beat him, but then I potted the white ball, while potting the black, so lost by default.

After we finished, he said shall we go and play chess? (It says on my profile that I’m looking for someone to play chess with). The pool game had created a very small amount of tension, so I agreed, and we began to walk home. I thought this would be the perfect time to ask him about his political opinions, since I don’t remember him answering those bits of the OKCupid questions.

Me: So if you’re from Barnet do you vote Tory then?

Him: Well it’s more Chipping Barnet who are Tories, and I have voted for different political parties, but yes now I do vote Tory.

My head: Of course.

He goes on to fanboy over why Margaret Thatcher was so great, because she made it so anyone could better themselves, no matter whether you were a shopkeeper, or a lawyer. (Or something similar).

If anyone would have wanted one of those busts from that Sherlock episode, it would have been him.

Me: Yeah so basically she made it better for self-employed people, but not if you’re a single parent with a part time job.

Him: Yeah.

(No further discussion on this).

Me: So did you vote Brexit?

Him: Yes.

My head: Seriously…

Me: Why?

Him: *gives me a convoluted explanation which suggests that Germany want to become a superpower again and we should have no part of that*

Half way through this conversation, I nearly fall over because it’s so slippy and icy on the pavement, but he does not seem to find any humour in this. Just like earlier on in the pub when I told him his glasses looked like Harry Potter glasses.

Me: But how is leaving the EU going to be better for Britain?

Him: *avoids the question like he’s practicing to be a politician*

Me: Just give me ONE GOOD REASON why you voted leave?

Him: Well I can’t remember that far back – it was in July.

Me: It was June the 23rd actually.

We go into my flat. It turns out he’s OCD about tidiness. If you’ve ever been to my flat, you’ll know this is not a good mix.

It becomes apparent that he does not want us to play chess, which honestly I was quite disappointed about. We start kissing and I’m glad to discover he’s a lips-only kisser. We start doing other stuff, and at one point I end up sitting on his face. He’s doing quite well, I’d probably give him a B plus, but doesn’t seem to be enjoying it, so I ask him if I need to go and wash my fanny, as I have been out all day. He unconvincingly tells me that it’s fine, so I go to the shower and have a quick wash. I’m not that sensitive! If I blatantly ask you if it needs washing, then it’s fine to say so. I’ve stopped sexual activity before to ask guys to go wash their dicks real quick.

We end up having sex, but he’s one of those guys who can’t stay fully hard the whole time in a condom, so that’s annoying. I don’t self-lubricate loads usually anyway, but it keeps drying up more than usual, so we have to use a lot of lube. Probably because there’s no real connection between us, and my pussy knows the truth, and is not cooperating.

He keeps telling me what to do, but not in a hot way, and any time I get even a little bit rough with him he acts like a total pussy about it. Eventually he ends up cumming on my tits, which I haven’t had for a while, so it’s nice for nostalgia. I get out my vibrator, but my clit is also refusing to play ball, so I decide to give up.

I start to feel a little emotional, I’m not sure if he notices, but he immediately gets up to go and have a shower. Which NO ONE HAS EVER DONE TO ME AFTER SEX BEFORE, and it feels a bit rude. But given his logical architect OCD Tory personality, I’m not massively surprised.

After he comes out of the shower, I go to pee (determined not to get cystitis from this experience), and let myself cry a little in the bathroom, and when I come back he’s already got dressed. It’s obvious now that I’m upset. I sit on the bed crying and he leaves, and I realise I have not yet learnt my lesson about leave voters.

Awkward as fuck.

I think the whole experience reminded me of what happened with Tory 1, and the rejection that I felt from him. The fact that the sex I’d just had was devoid of any intimacy made it all worse, plus the fact that I hadn’t cum, and he had, and that’s why I got sad.

I’ve had some great casual sex experiences in the past (more with people that I already knew though), but I think now I’m a bit older, I need something more, or at the very least I need to be more into it to in future, if I do ever do that again, and not just doing it for the sake of it.

In short:

If your pussy ain’t pulsing, then there’s no point fucking.

Stop sleeping with Tory Brexiters because clearly they have no soul.

My favourite part of the night was playing pool, so I obviously need to do this more.

I’ve used the word ‘pussy’ in this blog a lot. But for some reason I always call it a ‘fanny’ when I’m talking about washing it.

No one seems to have a good reason as to why they voted leave.

 

How to Date a Feminist

On Friday night I went to see ‘How to Date a Feminist’ at the Arcola Theatre. I’ve just started a programme called ‘The Artist’s Way’, all about releasing your creativity, which involves taking your inner artist on a date once a week. I often go to things alone anyway, as I enjoy (often prefer) my own company, so it didn’t feel weird being by myself.

It opens with the two main characters – Steve proposing to Kate, but Steve has been raised a staunch feminist by his activist mum Morag. So before he can propose he must apologise for the patriarchy, and everything they have done over the years (ancient Greece, FGM, domestic violence, footbinding). Kate seems to find all this a bit excessive and in the end just shouts ‘For fuck’s sake! Propose!’

htdaf

It then goes backwards in time to the night they first met at a fancy dress party. Kate is dressed as Wonder Woman and Steve is dressed as Robin Hood. Because ‘he’s a brilliant ethical hero…he basically invented the welfare state’. Kate thinks the whole point of Wonder Woman is that you can see her pants and Steve explains (mansplains?!) why she’s actually a fantastic role model.

Kate’s ex, Ross is also at the party, dressed as Superman. When they were still together, he had wanted her to come as Lois Lane, but they broke up because she caught him shagging the intern. Kate tells Steve all this and reveals that she can’t help liking ‘bad men’ – men like Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’. Steve questions this and doesn’t see the appeal of it. He thinks that Kate should stop ‘liking bad men’, of course implying that she should go for someone like him.

So in the words of No Doubt ‘Why do we choose the boys that are nasty?’

Because nice guys are known for being boring. Even Jess in ‘New Girl’ is reluctant to date someone because he’s ‘too nice’. Nice doesn’t get women off. But bad guys don’t make for good boyfriends. So where does that leave us?

I think a lot of women have this conflict of wanting a ‘bad man’, because they are more ‘exciting’, but then also wanting a man who will treat you properly. This is definitely something I have experienced. And it seems difficult to find someone who is the perfect mix of half way between the two. But it looks like Steve has gone too far the other way. The first time he and Kate are making out he keeps asking for her permission (May I kiss you? May I kiss you again with my tongue? May I kiss your collarbone?) to the point where it just becomes ridiculous.

Later at their wedding, Kate’s (more traditional) dad and Morag end up kissing and start taking each other’s clothes off. Steve and Kate find them together and Steve just can’t understand why his mum would consensually have her hair pulled, and assumes that Kate’s dad must have forced her into it in some way, because her dad is the sort of man who just ‘takes what he wants’.

Kate and Steve begin to argue and Kate tells Steve that she wants him to take what he wants sometimes – ‘make decisions, choose wine, open doors, drive a car, operate a drill, eat steak! Be a bit rapey when we go to bed’. Steve is especially offended by the last one.

I can see how it must be very confusing for some men, especially very ‘feminist’ men who have been taught all these years not to hurt a woman, yet are met with inner conflict when they find that a lot of women would like to be sexually dominated, to varying extremes. I’ve definitely experienced this, and remember I had sex with one guy a couple of times who was willing to be quite rough, but absolutely refused to slap me in the face, because he just couldn’t do that to a woman. On the flip side, I feel some guys need to remember that just because you are into that kind of sex, doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to be treated with respect.

Despite Steve’s ‘feminism’, it seems in a way he’s just like the men he strives against, because he too cannot comprehend or accept complexities in women. He wants Kate to change, and as a result almost becomes just as controlling as the men who are not self-proclaimed feminists. I wonder what Steve’s character would think about women who choose to use their sexuality, such as porn stars (or pop stars). Steve probably doesn’t watch porn, or if he does, he seeks out ethical feminist porn made by real life couples, and most dsc_0460-1024x652-1000x637definitely can’t reach orgasm if the woman doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it.

The play also opened up the idea of whether men can be true feminists.  Even Steve ends up shouting at his mum in a slightly threatening way. She tells him ‘You’ll never know how it feels. You’ll never really understand.’ And I think she has a point here, and maybe that’s why Steve has been over-compensating this whole time, because he can’t really imagine what it’s like to be a woman.

Another thing that annoyed me about Steve is that he still got down on one knee to propose in the traditional way AND gave Kate an engagement ring that he chose. One thing that is a majorly problematic for me about marriage in heterosexual relationships, is that it is almost always men who propose, and women who wear engagement rings (I was delighted recently when met a man who was wearing one that his fiancée had bought him). Steve also says at one point that he wants to rescue Kate, like she’s some sort of archetypal princess in a Disney film.

It was a very funny show, that raised some interesting points about feminism, and the relationships between men and women. Both actors were outstanding, especially the way that they seamlessly moved between different characters. I particularly liked when they skipped down the aisle to ‘Robin Hood, Robin Hood Riding Through the Glen’. Plus the fact that Kate’s suggestion was Kate Bush’s ‘Wuthering Heights’, and she wanted to act out being let at in a window. Some of you may know how obsessed I am with this song – I think I may have laughed particularly loudly at this point. (If I ever do end up getting married, I will be using this idea…)

I guess ultimately it’s important to have a balance, not to be like Ross, Kate’s ex, who only sees Kate in very reductionist terms, (basically just wants her for sex, and keeps trying to get her to write lifestyle pages instead of more serious journalism),  but not going so far the other way that you view women as needing to be mollycoddled or ‘saved’. And I think this balance can come from more men starting to treat women as people, with complex thoughts and behaviours, rather than ‘just as women’.

‘How to date a Feminist’ was at The Arcola Theatre 22nd Nov – 17th Dec 2016, written by Samantha Ellis and starring Tom Berish and Sarah Daykin

Date with an older man (Fleabag, pizza, and murder)

Okay so he wasn’t THAT old. He was 37. But given that I almost exclusively go for men in their twenties, he was fucking ancient in comparison. We met on Tinder and had been chatting for about a week. We arranged to meet at King’s Cross on Wednesday at 2pm and go for coffee. He lives in Hertfordshire so he got the train down to meet me.

I may not have turned up at 2pm. God the Piccadilly line at the moment. Not sure how it’s going to run a night service when it can’t even run a bloody day service. The fact I left my house at around 1.55 has nothing to do with this. Anyway he waited for me by the Christmas tree and when I first saw him I didn’t get that panic feeling to turn around and walk away in the other direction that I often get with internet dates.

That morning I had phoned the Soho Theatre to find out how to go about getting a ticket for Fleabag, and if I could queue for returns on Thursday. They said it depends, but that there was an extra performance happening that day that wasn’t sold out, so I should come down at 3pm to get a ticket! So I basically turned up to my internet date at 2.25 and told him we were going to see a play. He seemed slightly unsure at first but then warmed to the spontaneity of the idea.

On the way to the theatre we talked about life and work. He is a self-employed digital designer, I think he owns his own home, and generally seems to have his shit together. This was very new territory for me. When we got there I tried to pay for my own ticket, but he insisted on paying and put in his card for £50 for both tickets like it was nothing.

We also talked a bit about internet dating. He said he’s been on some good ones, but that it’s usually him who doesn’t want to see them again because there wasn’t enough there. Then he told me a story about how his brother’s wife’s sister’s best friend (or something similar) had been murdered on a Tinder date by a lawyer in a hotel.  It wasn’t very widely reported in national press, but of course the Daily Mail picked up on it. And people wonder why lawyers have a reputation for being untrustworthy.

We discussed how you can be spending time with someone and just not know what they are really like. All you have to go on is your intuition. I postulated as to whether she’d had any bad feeling about him, but ignored her instinct and went to the hotel anyway, which we’ll never know. I wonder if he tells this story on all his Tinder dates as a warning to women not go home with men if you have any doubts – but the problem is psychopaths are naturally charming and that’s how they trick people.

As for the play, it was much more intimate seeing Phoebe Waller-Bridge in front of me on a stage, after watching the show on TV. You get to see a lot more physicality in the play and how versatile she is, as she plays the part of other characters as well. Her delivery is impressive – good punchlines become hilarious because of the way she says them.  It was a bit darker than the TV show, as she says she always wants to go darker. I forgot that she kills the guinea pig in the play and have to admit even I was a little bit shocked.

I did prefer the TV version, but I think that’s like when you read a book before seeing a film or vice versa. (My date started watching the TV show afterwards and said he preferred the play). In the play she’s addressing the audience, but in the sitcom she has to break the fourth wall to do this, something I love watching. I also missed the visuals involving the other characters, e.g. when the man at the bus stop opens his mouth for the first time, or when she sees the anal sex guy in the shop and pretends she’s buying regular tampons instead of super.

I can definitely relate to Fleabag – I’d like to think I’m not as much of an awful person as she is, but people I know said she reminds them of me, I guess it’s the dark, filthy, ‘bad’ feminist side they are talking about. When she does the long speech at the end about fucking and how she fucks everything literally and metaphorically, and it’s sort of a cry for help; a recognition that she’s fucking to fill some kind of void, it resonated with me, and I actually got a bit emotional, and then I thought fuck that, and wiped the tears away before my date could see them.

Afterwards, my date and I sat in the bar and I ordered a pizza (pepperoni and red chillies). It came with onions sprawled all over it, despite not being mentioned on the menu, so I spent the next few minutes picking them off (anyone who knows me knows I woke up one day in the mid 2000s and suddenly couldn’t eat them anymore). I let my date have some of the pizza, and we talked about the play and various other things.

He said he doesn’t really like stand-up comedy, which I can weirdly kind of understand, although he did do that whole ‘you’re so brave I could never do it’ shit that us comedians hear on a regular basis. He then did quite a funny rant about not understanding how bicycles stay balanced and planes stay in the air, and then we wondered about boats for a bit. Why don’t they sink?! Phoebe Waller-Bridge wandered past a few times and I almost went to talk her, but didn’t and then wished I had. This is unlike me, usually I would just go for it, but there just didn’t seem to be a good moment. But oh well. That ship has sailed. It’s all Waller under the Bridge. I bet she gets that all the time. Okay I’ll stop now.

Anyway it was a fun and random afternoon, he seemed like a really nice, genuine guy, but ultimately I don’t think we had enough chemistry to see each other again. We texted a bit afterwards (mainly about Fleabag) but I didn’t reply to the last message (there was no question) and he didn’t pursue it. I did tell him about my blog, so he might be reading this…Well at least I didn’t get murdered, and I got to see Fleabag. Result.

The end

My Own Hard Brexit

Last week on Thursday the 3rd of November, the Tory rang me to say we should ‘knock it on the head’ because he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend. 5 years’ ago on the exact SAME DATE the guy I was seeing at the time came over to tell me that he didn’t want us to date anymore. That’s WEIRD right?! I mean WHAT ARE THE ODDS?! I don’t know. Even google doesn’t have an answer. Also this blog has basically taken almost as long to write as the whole ‘relationship’, but I think that’s because I had a lot to say.

I knew this was going to happen. This is why I didn’t want to date. I just wanted to stay in my single little bubble occasionally having sex while getting on with my life. And then I met the Tory twat and he ruined it just like the Tories ruin everything. I only wanted to have sex with him at first, because it was so wrong it turned me on, but then I ended up actually liking him as a person, and that’s when it all went downhill from there, and I learnt that you should never date someone who voted leave because they will just end up leaving you.

So after our bowling ‘date’, he went a bit quiet on me and ‘forgot’ that we had made plans to see each other the next week, and the more I tried to see him, the more he backed away. To cut a long story short, we did arrange to meet again, initially on 4th November, which I then changed to 5th November so we wouldn’t have to get up early the next day, but he wasn’t really texting me that much, so I kind of sensed that he wasn’t into it anymore but I was basically too much of a pussy to end it myself.

He said on the phone that we shouldn’t keep seeing each other because he already knew he didn’t want me to be his girlfriend and it was unfair to carry it on, especially not to meet up on Fireworks night because it’s such a couply thing to do. When I asked him why basically kept saying that we were too different, and I was too into sex(!), and some other reasons I didn’t really understand  like apparently sometimes I don’t seem interested in stuff he’s saying, which I totally disagreed with. He hadn’t thought that we were dating until I said we were on our bowling date, despite the fact that we were clearly ON A DATE. He just thought that it was a casual arrangement. You can be casually dating!

Anyway I was out, and it was totally the wrong time to talk, and I couldn’t hear everything he was saying, but basically may have slightly pleaded with him to still see me on the Saturday because ‘I really liked him and wanted us to have fun together’. HEAD DESK.

He insisted that it was over, but he also said I could call him again if I wanted to talk about anything which really confused me. WHY DID HE WANT ME TO CALL HIM?! I left the conversation not really understanding what had happened and thinking that maybe he had got scared the way men do sometimes when you get a bit too close to them.

I’ve had lots of casual sex in the past and probably would have been okay with it being a casual thing if I had known from the start that’s all it could ever be, but the problem was from my perspective it had the feeling of the beginning of a relationship due to things that he did and said, and this it what confused me.

He gave so many mixed messages that made me think that he did like me in that way and see us maybe dating. For example, talking about things we could do together in the future, even if it was just jokey like how we were gonna tidy my flat together, or how he was gonna turn me soppy, or that we should go out for dinner before we had sex the first time so we’re ‘more invested’ (I ended up cooking dinner instead).  He was also very physically affectionate and we held hands on the street.

Also he once walked 10 MILES to see me. I thought this was really romantic but then I remembered this was before we had sex and if Peep Show has taught me anything it’s that men will do and say ANYTHING to get laid.

But all this meant that I mistook certain things that he said for typical male commitment-phobia, because I’ve seen that happen so many times before. So when he said he thought we were fuck buddies, or when he said he didn’t like making firm plans I misinterpreted this as fear. Of course a leave supporter wouldn’t be into making a plan.*

Anyway, like an optimistic remain voter hoping for a second referendum, I thought that maybe if I just said the right things that he would stop freaking out. I even texted my long term ex for advice and he said, ‘Just tell him to think of your relationship like austerity and that it’s a relationship with cut backs’.

On Sunday 6th November I decided to call him. I didn’t tell any of my friends I was going to do this as I knew that they would say it was a bad idea. But I’m so glad that I did.

I guess the main idea of the call was to undo all the stuff I did on Thursday when I had been really needy and still trying to get him to see me. I thought if I called him out on the freak out then told him I would give him some space to come back to me when he was ready then maybe there was still a chance that he would date me.

This is the opposite of what happened, but now at least I understand that it was doomed from the beginning. Which is both frustrating and oddly freeing at the same time.

I got him to explain more about why he feels we are too different and I realised the more we talked that I think he has a bit of Madonna/Whore Complex going on in that basically I’m too sexual to be girlfriend material.

I think that when we first met he was intrigued by me and liked the idea of exploring some kinky stuff and acted a bit more sexually confident/adventurous than he actually is, maybe to impress me or whatever.

I also think that sometimes when he reacted with nonchalance to certain things that I told him it was more that he didn’t want to tell me he wasn’t into that or cool with it. But really he’s the sort of guy who pays the stripper not to take her clothes off (I think he has actually done this), and I’m the first woman to ever send him a picture of my tits.

He said that when he does have a girlfriend that he wants to be able to bring them into his whole life with his friends and family etc and he couldn’t do that with me. I pushed him to explain why…’Am I too loud? Or is it because I’m not posh?’

‘No, it’s not really that, it’s more that you’re a bit… coarse.’

Ah.

Well I’ve never been called that before.

It also turns out he thought me sucking that straw when I was flirting with him when we first met was a bit vulgar. Not too vulgar to fuck me of course, but too vulgar to date me.

At least he didn’t give me that bullshit cliched ‘I just don’t want a girlfriend right now’ excuse that I hate when some men do. No, he was very clear about the fact he didn’t want ME as his girlfriend. No sugar-coating here.

I wish that he didn’t think or feel like this, but ultimately I don’t want to be with someone who still has these old-fashioned views of women. The thing is I find a lot of men are not totally comfortable with women’s sexuality, and I can’t help but feel there is some ingrained sexism going on here.

For example, my long term ex really didn’t like the fact that I had slept with other male comedians he knew on the circuit before we met, yet I was totally fine with the fact he had had sex with a female comedian that I know and get along really well with.

I feel like so many men feel like this though and I wonder whether I will ever meet a man who totally gets me and is not threatened by this side of me. Maybe after 16 long years of dating men it’s time to finally start dating women? Either that or just be alone forever.

I told him about how I had got mixed messages from him and I felt that he had messed me around (you know like not texting me for a week), and he said he was sorry about leading me on. I told him he shouldn’t be allowed to date again. But seriously, I hope that he does learn from this and is a bit more aware in future about other people’s feelings, and not acting in such a relationshippy way if a relationship is totally off the table.

I said that at least I didn’t have to change his name in my phone because from the first night I met him it was already saved as (First name) Tory Dickhead (Last Name). He thought this was funny and we laughed about it for a bit. Oh how we laughed. DICKHEAD.

I don’t even know why I liked him that much. He’s not even that cool. He likes Robbie Williams. SERIOUSLY. And he can’t eat gluten. So now every time I eat gluten now I think about how he doesn’t deserve gluten and it makes me smile. And I made a list of 10 things I hate about him to make myself feel better. Well it was supposed to be 10 like the film, but it ended up being 19. Wait, 20. I mean it just keeps getting longer and longer. My favourite is number 18 which is ‘he really knows how to drag out a joke’…(I’m well aware this blog post is half the length of my University dissertation). Another plus point is this will give me more material for my Edinburgh show. I was wavering about whether to still do a solo show or not. But pain is a great inspiration for creativity. And of course the comedy’s more important…

It was interesting (and at times frustrating) to spend time with someone whose political views were so different from mine, because whenever I tried to question him on a Conservative policy he wouldn’t give me a good enough answer. For example, after he went to see ‘I, Daniel Blake’ I asked him if he felt bad now for voting Tory but he said no because claiming JSA under a Labour government was just as nightmarish, and that it has always been a ‘ghastly system’, but I don’t think he realises how much worse it is now.

I think a lot of people, including him are not informed enough or just don’t see or refuse to see how different it is now, and how many more unfair changes have happened since we have had a Tory government, such as the bedroom tax, DLA cuts, and now the housing benefit rent cap.

I’m not a politician so I don’t necessarily know how I would save the money that we need because it’s not my job to (although here’s an idea -getting companies to actually pay corporation tax would be a start), but I certainly don’t think that it should come from the poorest in society. That doesn’t make any sense. But I think that a lot of people ignore all these facts and/or just don’t care, because they are so convinced that the Tories will make the country better overall. And yes, it’s true I didn’t know the name of the leader of the EU until he told me, so maybe we all need to learn a bit more about who and what we are voting for.

Towards the end of our phone call I also told him  that in no universe ever should it be him who doesn’t want to date me – it should be the other way round – because I’m better than him at EVERYTHING. He laughed and said this was arrogant. But it’s probably true. Except cunnilingus. He was surprisingly good at that…Damn, just stroked his ego one last time. Well at least now I don’t have to pretend I’m interested in everything he is saying…

It’s really hard when someone rejects you, especially when you thought it was going somewhere. But I should just get used to disappointment. 48% of me is still a bit annoyed and upset, but 52% of me knows that it’s for the best. I guess we’ll always have The Lion and The Unicorn, Kentish Town…and whenever I hear this song I will think of him, not fondly. But I’ll think of him.

*credit to Tara Molineux for this joke

Lift it off the page

The other week I did a gig at Downstairs at the King’s Head on the Thursday night. This is one the best open mic nights in London that you can do, as it usually gets a good audience, and there is an opportunity to eventually progress to weekend gigs there. I had a fairly good gig and afterwards I asked for feedback from Peter who runs the night. He said that my joke writing is strong and has improved over the last few years, but that I need to sound less rehearsed. I asked whether I sound like that all the time (wondering whether even the newer material sounds like that) and he said yes – I have a certain rhythm to my voice when I’m on stage.

I’ve had this feedback several times and I know it’s something that I need to work on. When I gigged with Russell Kane a while ago he said the same thing – good material but I need to sound more natural. I then watched him do about half an hour (maybe longer) that he had done 100s of times, yet he made it look like so fresh and off the cuff. He suggested I MC more to improve on this, which I have been doing, but as I don’t tend to do much material when I am MCing, this doesn’t really affect how I sound when I do my actual jokes.You can hear the difference when I go into a pre-written joke. I also tend to inflect at the end of my sentences to the point where I have been asked if I am Australian.

I think my problem is that I have to learn my material so well otherwise I will forget it that I end up learning it too well. So what can I do about it? An acting teacher suggested that I try to tell my jokes to a friend like we are having a conversation, or to try and practice my set in different voices so I’m definitely going to try this out and see if it has any effect. My friend Alana (who is actually Australian) is staying with me at the moment so she is going to have to listen to this.

Does sounding too rehearsed matter? Anthony Jesilnik (one of my favourite comedians) has a very specific rhythm and tone when he does material, and he’s very successful. (Yes I just compared myself to Jesilnik, and what?) I guess it just depends what suits your act. But if sounding less rehearsed means that I have more of a connection to the audience and therefore have a better gig, and get booked for more gigs, then that can only be a good thing.

To be continued…

Date with a Tory part 2 (we went bowling in the arcade)

Last week was spent mostly working at Frieze art fair (outside) being a hostess, so by Saturday evening I was ready to have some fun! The Tory I’ve been seeing recently wanted us to go bowling, which I thought was a great idea, as I love nothing more than competitive activities. We were going to go to Finchley Lido, but as he had to meet me in Regents Park, it was easier to stay on the Bakerloo line and go to Namco.

If you don’t know, Namco is an arcade near Waterloo. I first went there four years ago with someone my friend and I call Kieran2012 (specifically twenty twelve, not two thousand and twelve), as a first date. It was his idea and a surprise, and I had so much fun I thought I really liked him and proceeded to date him for two months. That’s the power of Namco.

My ex and I also went on Valentine’s Day 2015 and 2016 as a non-stereotypically romantic thing to do, so it sort of became our place to go…but now I’ve been with three different guys – I think it’s just my place.

I figured that the Tory must be pretty good at bowling because he seemed so excited about it. At the beginning he even tried to give me a lesson on how to bowl better. It turns out he’s just wildly inconsistent. He got two strikes, but guttered the ball most of the rest of the time. It was very amusing to watch, and it made me feel good to beat him at something. Especially a game that he had suggested.

It has only been a month since we met, so we are just taking it really slowly and getting to know each other, but I am definitely having fun with him, and I hope that this is the beginning of lots of activities together…that I can win at.

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