The other day, I fell for a stranger. I choose my words here carefully. ‘Fell for’, not ‘fancied’ or ‘desired’. ‘Fell’, like you would if you slipped on a banana skin. Fall as in pratfall. But also fall as in ‘fail’. Perhaps this fall wasn’t a trip or a stumble (cue laughter track) but something more dismal, like a ‘fall’ off the edge of a cliff in a climactic episode of Eastenders. When I told this story to friends over WhatsApp, with a winky face and what I thought was a killer punchline, half of them reacted with sympathy. One asked if it was meant to be funny or sad. It was meant to be funny, but I guess if that isn’t obvious I should ponder why my friends are responding to the comedy of my life like it’s a tragedy. Maybe I should look a little closer. Let me tell you a story about falling for a man I’ve never met.

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This week’s guest blogger has a happy story. One of those stories which makes me want to hug myself because a stranger found their joy. I’m really delighted to welcome Eddie to the blog, as he tells you how a Twitter crush taught him that – despite the bollocks he’s been fed by society about what might count as ‘desirable’ – he isn’t lust-proof after all.

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For reasons that I will explain in a later blog post or (more likely) never explain at all, these days when men come to visit overnight I ask them to sleep in the spare room. It’s nothing personal. No man is allowed to share my bed. The up side of this is that I get a decent night’s sleep which means I am capable of having fun the next day. The down side is that sometimes I find myself lying awake and horny at 5 in the morning, fantasising about the tempting cock attached to the guy in the bedroom next door, lamenting the fact that I have no one to rub my bum against till they get hard and wake up to shag me. Usually I’m an advocate of the motto ‘it can’t hurt to ask!’ but I’m working on the assumption that 5am is a hard limit for almost everyone, so I do not venture to the spare room on a dick hunt. I just pop on a blindfold to shield my eyes from the dawn and debate whether it’s too early in the day to have a wank.

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Men: they’re fucking everywhere, aren’t they? God, I had almost forgotten they existed. I used to walk down streets past men every day and barely give them a second glance, but suddenly now I am starting to notice them. Men. Everywhere. This is a post written loosely off the back of a pep talk I gave to a friend, in which I urged her: shoot your shot. (hat tip to @Oloni for introducing me to that excellent phrase)

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