“British scientists have unveiled a new wristband which can tell what sort of mood you’re in. Men are especially excited about it as they hope to finally gain an insight into what a woman means when she says she’s ‘fine’.”
– Opening joke from Breaking the News, 5th July 2019
There’s a common trope that when a woman says ‘I’m fine’ actually she’s fuming, and it’s someone’s job (usually her partner’s) to solve the puzzle and find out what’s actually wrong before everything explodes in a shower of icky female emotions. It’s a fun game, right straight lads? Having to guess what your partner actually means when she says ‘I’m fine’? Haha women are so mysterious, and men will never be able to figure us out!
I have two questions for you. First one: if there was a dodgy step on the staircase in your house, how long would it take you to fix it? Let’s say that the step itself is mostly irritating, but occasionally dangerous. You have to remember to jump over it every time you go up or down stairs, but sometimes you forget and your foot just plunges straight through, causing you to twist your ankle, or worse. When close friends and lovers come round to visit you, they often get trapped by your dodgy step, then extract themselves and help you patch it up. Most of them recommend you call a carpenter. So, first question is: how long would it take you to get it fixed? Question two: how’s your mental health lately?
This week is eating disorders awareness week, aimed at highlighting the ways in which eating disorders can affect people’s lives, and raising funds for those who are affected by them. Be aware before you read on that this week’s guest blogger, Tempe, is here to talk about her personal experience with anorexia nervosa – explaining how the eating disorder affected her sex life. I’m really grateful to her for sharing her story here, and hopefully encouraging those who are struggling with similar issues to get support and help in tackling them.
This story is quite brutal – it’s about a BDSM fantasy/dream thing in which I want him to beat me as hard as possible. It’s entirely consensual, because it all happens inside my head. But if consensual non-consent isn’t your thing, or if you are in any way confused by the fact that fantasy doesn’t indicate what someone wants in reality, please don’t read it.
The last couple of times I had sex, I cried afterwards. I know, this blog post sounds like it’s going to be a little bit horrible: it is. Sorry about that. Sometimes life is full of hot fucking and joyful blow jobs, and sometimes… well, sometimes it is stress and panic and crying after sex.