I love dick, it’s brilliant. Unfortunately, I don’t love it all the time on a 24/7 basis. As a sex blogger, my work is a constant background throb throughout my life: even when I’m not feeling horny, my Tweetdeck spits out pre-scheduled posts from ‘this time last year’ in which I wax lyrical about my love of blow jobs. About a year ago, I got frustrated with the fact that this painted a picture of me as constantly horny for cock, which men (understandably) responded to in the moment, without realising that at that specific point I was actually in the middle of extremely stressful work and probably not up for sexting at that moment in time. All this to say, I wrote a silly poem called ‘your dick can wait, I’m working.’ Don’t take it too seriously, especially if you and I are fucking.

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Attention everyone! Doxy has released a bullet vibe! To be honest, I reckon I could end the blog post there and quite a few of you would buy a Doxy bullet purely on the basis of the fact that we’ve all heard of Doxy and we know they’re great. You would be correct to do so, because it’s excellent, but I’d be abandoning my duty of care to your genitals if I didn’t also tell you a bit about it. Namely: it’s powerful, shiny-as-fuck, and the vibration patterns appear to have a chaos mode.

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My period is extremely unpredictable. I am not angry with it for being so – it more than makes up for its unpredictability by being relatively swift. Although I almost never know when I’m about to start bleeding, I do at least know that once it’s started I’ll be blood-free in about four days. What’s more, I usually only have one day of absolute agony (the day after I come on, if you must know), and although it’s absolute hell trying to sit at a desk and knock out erotica while my lower back is screaming for mercy, as soon as the pain is over I’m usually rewarded with a period horn so powerful I could milk a whole rugby team in under thirty minutes.

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This week, an egregiously terrible advert by Crown Paint has attracted criticism for peddling the narrative that women who don’t want to have children will probably change their minds one day. As a woman who has been very open about the fact that I don’t want kids, and is now rapidly approaching a point where that choice stops being a choice and becomes an inevitability, I thought I’d weigh in.

If you’re keen on having children and are currently struggling with your own fertility journey, you might find this post upsetting. 

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When we walk in the door of the strip club, I can guarantee that the people his eyes are drawn to are the dancers. The one on stage half-naked, the ones hanging out by the bar flirting with customers, one or two emerging from the curtained-off booths at the back of the room. My eyes, on the other hand, are firmly fixed on the men – him included.

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