This post was inspired by someone on Twitter a while ago who objected to the phrase ‘toxic masculinity’ and wanted to know if there was such a thing as ‘toxic femininity‘. I don’t know that there is, but this is the scenario that leapt to mind. 

I don’t hate men, but I do hate this man. We race together towards a red light. He’s not far behind me, but he definitely is behind me. We yank on our brakes to come to a halt, and he pulls up next to me. Then, side-by-side, we sweat. We pant. We eye each other up. Then amber, green: go – we’re off. Another futile race which he cannot possibly win. He’ll try anyway, why not? And I don’t care if he tries – I like that he does. I swallow his attempts to beat me like shots of tequila and cum, delighting in how bitterly they burn as they slide down my throat.

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I don’t ever want to be vulnerable purely because I’m a woman. I understand life has its moments, and leaning in to vulnerability – when you’re with friends and loved ones – can be a valuable thing to do. Let people in, get closer, see their vulnerabilities too and nurture them through hard times. But broadly, I don’t want to be vulnerable. I go through life doing powerful things, and rejecting vulnerability because I don’t want to feel weak. Unfortunately, the world is peppered with men who want to remind women just how vulnerable we are.

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Since I broke up with my ex, quite a lot of people have sought to reassure me that “you’ll find someone else.” It’s incredibly kind and well-meaning, and tempting as all hell to lean in to the idea. Go shopping for men, you say? Sounds fun! Pick one who’s better? Sweet! Hey presto – happiness awaits! I get why people offer this advice, and I don’t want to bat it away with a sarky response because it comes from a place of kindness. It’s understandable and admirable to try to comfort someone who’s hurting. But I don’t really like “you’ll find someone else”, and I thought I’d have a crack at explaining why.

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My ex once offered to buy a stranger’s shoes, to stop him from hassling me outside a restaurant. It was the weirdest method of stopping someone being harassed that I’d ever come across, and alongside being genuinely funny to me at the time, it also worked.

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I am not very good at saying ‘no’ to fun stuff. Some people have told me I have an ‘addictive personality’, but I think I just have no willpower. If something is available that gives me pleasure (cigarettes, dick, [redacted in case my Mum ever stumbles across this], wine, vodka, massively powerful wand vibrators, chocolate-covered peanuts, McCoy’s salt and vinegar crisps, etc etc etc) then I rarely have the inner strength to turn it down. So often the only way for me to avoid getting sucked in to unhealthy obsession with something is to avoid trying it in the first place. Unfortunately for me, Hot Octopuss is a sponsor of my website, so I was duty-bound to try out their new Kurve g-spot vibe: now I am addicted. Fuck you, Hot Octopuss.

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