Girl on the Net

As I turn my bike to head south out of the town, Jagged Little Pill plays in my headphones. I ride past the sign that tells me I’m gone from this particular place for good, and I start to smile. And then laugh. I almost punch the air in victory.

Note this story contains coercion and creepy behaviour. I’m fine, but I don’t want to randomly surprise you with this sort of thing. After my recent epic bike trip, one of the questions people ask me is ‘did you feel safe traveling as a woman on your own?’ and the answer to that question is ‘yes.’ I generally felt very safe, and I don’t want to put any woman off solo travel if she wants to do it – it’s a complete joy and one I hope everyone – no matter their gender – gets the chance to experience at some point in their lives. But it would be a lie to tell you I was always safe: I was mostly safe, I only got almost-sexually-assaulted once. This is the story of that one time. 

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If you’re expecting the usual sex blogging here, you’ll be sorely disappointed. I wrote this because some people (like, literally about five) asked me if I was planning to blog about my recent bike trip across Europe, and although I’m not going to write a tonne of posts, I do love having the excuse to tell you the things that made it rock and the things I’d have done differently. Apart from anything else, it’s a fun opportunity to reflect on something I’m proud of and capture bits that I’d like to remember in years to come – I always tell other people to do this so maybe I should do it myself. But as I say it will only be of interest to about five of you, so consider yourself warned. I’m writing the advice part as if you want to do the exact same thing I did, but naturally your mileage may vary. Take what you want from this, ignore the bits you don’t, and please refrain from giving me advice because I haven’t asked for it. For me, part of the joy of doing this kind of thing is figuring it out on my own. I do this by seeking out other people’s blogs/videos/maps, taking what I need from those and discarding what I don’t. If you want to give advice to other cyclists, by all means do so, but please share it on a broadcast channel that anyone can read (like a quote post), rather than directing it at me in my comments. Anyway. If you want to do what I did (or something similar), here’s how to cycle from London to Budapest.

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I know I always bang on about how there aren’t any universal tricks to make your sex life better. There’s no ‘one simple way’ to please your lover in bed. But I’ve decided – after a decade and a half of sex blogging – that there is actually one change that would have a near-universal positive impact on everybody’s sex life. It isn’t something an individual can do on their own, it’s a choice we need to collectively make as a society. But we can make this choice if enough of us get on board. The one simple trick to give everyone a better sex life: Universal Basic Income.

Hear me out.

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Some people spend their spare time knitting, while others prefer more dangerous hobbies – abseiling, base jumping, exploring tiny dark caves that they might get stuck in – the kinds of activities that get their adrenaline racing. The same is true of kink. While many will be satisfied with a little light bondage and some occasional role play with a safe word, others like to dive deeper and kink things that others find far more scary. There aren’t many people I’d commission to write a guest blog about consensual gaslighting, but Jenby – who’s tackled things like surveillance, tongue-stapling and Total Power Exchange with extremely enthusiastic consent – is right up there. So! Today she’s here to talk about gaslighting as kink. And although I know it sounds like a cliché to tell you ‘don’t try this at home’, I’m going to say it anyway. As a general rule, the darker and more potentially harmful a kink is, the better you need to be at playing safely and communicating and all those important things. I would no more trust a stranger to write this post than I’d follow a stranger into a dark cave without safety rope and proof of competence. But Jenby’s written so much before from her eagerly submissive perspective that I rate her as an expert spelunker of kink’s darkest and twistiest caves, so if anyone can talk gaslighting as kink, it’s her.

Note that this piece does exactly what it says on the tin: discusses gaslighting as kink play. It also features ‘Daddy’ as an honorific – everyone in this story is over the age of 18. 

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It’s cold, so he wears gloves. He’s trying out new ‘looks’ lately, so they’re leather. Well… the vegan equivalent of leather at any rate. Soft, black, expensive. They cushion and protect his palms when he thwacks me on the arse.

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