Category Archives: Ranty ones

How do I get laid without dating apps?

London has a population of almost nine million. It is one of the most vibrant, exciting, busy cities in the world. At the same time, most of the people who live here (myself included) have an instinctive distrust of strangers, and a powerful desire to not be bothered by one. So how do you meet people in this context? In the past I’ve relied heavily on dating apps. But as most people on The Apps agree, dating apps fucking suck these days. Let’s examine some potential ways to get laid without dating apps, with the aim that by the end of the year I will have DEFINITELY TRIED ALL OF THEM and if I haven’t you can tell me off for wussing out.

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I have a kink for misogyny

Dirty little secret time, people: I have a kink for misogyny. An intense, horny, fucked-up passion for men who will treat me like shit. And before I delve into some of my more detailed treat-me-like-shit fantasies, I wanted to do some preamble to explain why this is only ever hot when I’m playing life on ‘sandbox’ mode. What’s horny in my mind and during roleplay is actively horrifying in real life. In case it wasn’t screamingly obvious: that’s why it gets me really wet.

Note that this post includes examples of violent misogyny, non-consent and rape – both the fantasy versions (hot!) and real-life ones (not!). 

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Dear Gillian: please pay women for their labour

I love Gillian Anderson, she’s done some amazing work. Like many nerds, I loved X-Files when I was young, and more recently I loved Sex Education (that bit when all the girls got on the bus together absolutely shattered me). But I would bet every single penny in my bank account that she didn’t work on either of these shows for free. What’s more, I imagine she wouldn’t agree to do this kind of work without being credited. Let’s talk about ‘Dear Gillian‘, her latest project with Bloomsbury Books!

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What’s a girl gotta do to get a rape conviction around here?

CN: rape, murder, violent misogyny (including detailed and specific examples). 

I’m writing this blog post the day after news broke about Met Police officer and serial rapist David Carrick. He’s admitted to dozens of rapes spanning two decades. During this timespan he was reported to the police nine times – nine times! So why wasn’t anything done? Because, like Wayne Couzens before him, this man was a police officer. They had a nickname for him, on the force: they called him Bastard Dave.

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If I earn enough ‘good girl’ points I’ll be loved

Note: this piece tackles some stuff about femininity, womanhood, and ‘worth’. I do not believe that any of the things I say about ‘good girl points’ are true and I don’t encourage you to believe or internalise them. But as with all weird notions, sometimes you have to state it to slate it, so I’m allowing myself to be a bit more open about the dark beliefs that power a lot of my decisions, especially in light of some Twitter discussion I’ve seen about why you shouldn’t just keep trying to be ‘good’ and ‘liked’ all the time. Rest assured I’m working on these things.

The other day, at about 11pm, a guy offered to walk me to the train station. We’d been having a lovely evening together – eating dinner that he’d cooked for me because he knows it’s one of my favourites, watching a weird film that we’d chosen together because he cares about my opinion, then enjoying a teasing blow job because when we started getting horny I specifically requested that he let me be ‘playful’ for a bit. It was fabulous. I felt very content. Very… what’s the word? Very heard. Valued. Appreciated. But when it came time for me to head home, he offered to walk me to the station, and this objectively kind gesture made me deeply uncomfortable.

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