My partner told me recently that ‘confidence is sexy’, and I nearly fell off my chair. Confidence, is sexy, you say? Wow, I wish someone had told me twenty years ago, because if I’d known I’d definitely have magicked up some confidence rather than deliberately chosen to be awkward and ashamed of the way I am…
I shave my legs every couple of weeks. My armpits more frequently – maybe once or twice each week. I pluck my eyebrows when I spot a stray hair, and get them threaded when I can brave the salon. Then occasionally I cover my neck, chest and stomach in hair removal cream, lie on the bathroom floor like a melting snowman, and wait for the hair to burn off. I have PCOS, and Sisyphus has nothing on me.
I hanker for a lot of things from my dating days and my youth. But one of the things I don’t miss is the awkward feeling, early on in a hook up, that the men I wanted to fuck were playing music at me. A fairly common scenario involved me sitting on my hands and trying not to lean in for a kiss too soon, while a hot guy commandeered the stereo, picked an album and told me: “you’re going to love this, I know it.” Few of my dates ever let me pick the music.
Ahh this guest blog makes my heart flutter – as well as other parts of me. It’s about friendship and intimacy as well as, you know, the hot stuff. While I rang in 2018 with good friends and a bottle of cheap prosecco, this week’s anonymous guest blogger started her year with good friends and her first threesome.
This might sound weird: I like it when men take things from me. Not large things, like my dignity or my house. Or even small-ish things like my life savings. I like it when they assert a kind of casual dominance – taking inconsequential things from me, with an attitude that tells me I couldn’t possibly object.