I am single now, so I’m doing everything on my own. I fucking love it. There’s an immense and roaring joy that comes with the power of being alone. The power to do or not do something based purely on whether the fuck I want to. Singing loudly in the kitchen. Dancing… well… everywhere. Learning new things and remembering old things and saying ‘yes’ when someone asks me for Skype drinks. I’m a strong, independent woman. In every single area except one.

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I’m so delighted to welcome today’s guest blogger – Debbie Bird! Her one-woman show, Buzzing, which is all about a woman embracing her sexuality post-divorce and after 50, premiered at Edinburgh last year and was then taken on a national tour. I was itching to get to see it in the theatre, but unfortunately Coronavirus absolutely fucked with that plan, as it has fucked with so much of the rest of our lives. But luckily for me (and you too!) Debbie is doing a livestream of Buzzing that you can enjoy from the comfort of your home. To introduce you to some of the topics she covers in the show, Debbie dropped by with this awesome guest blog about feeling sexy at 50+, and there will be absolutely no prizes for guessing why I utterly adore it, and why it’s got me excited to see Buzzing on the 25th. Join me, get tickets, support artists who have been fucked over by Coronavirus and enjoy Debbie’s brilliantly reviewed show.

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I’ve always been envious of my boyfriend’s uniform. It’s not a literal uniform, you understand, he isn’t a firefighter or an airline pilot. His ‘uniform’ is just a basic outfit that he’s able to wear no matter what the day: jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. In the summer: shorts, t-shirt, shirt. On the off-chance that we’re invited to a wedding, he owns one single suit. He never has to scrabble through his wardrobe trying to decide what to wear.

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It may be easy to introduce your partner to your friends if you’re dating someone with infinite swagger. But my partner is often quite shy. When I introduce him to my friends, he’s nervous and unsure – will they like him? Will they see in him what I do? Will the start of the evening – all shuffled feet and polite chitchat and coughing and staring at phones – eventually meld into one big conversation, when he gets swallowed into the group until no one can remember that he only met them four hours ago?

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A random selection of ridiculous reasons why boys aren’t allowed to break up with me. FYI.

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