“I just need you to know,” one guy told me, before we started fucking, “that I very rarely come during penetrative sex. In fact, I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that’s happened.” It didn’t matter who he was fucking or where his dick happened to be, he had very rarely ever come inside. You’d hope that someone as body-positive and sex-knowledgeable as Girl on the fucking Net would instinctively have some bon mot at the ready to put him at ease and reassure him that delayed ejaculation (or an inability to ejaculate full-stop) is common, and nothing to be ashamed of. And I did but… Although my rational brain was more than happy to explain that I don’t actually need champagne fountains of jizz in order to be sexually satisfied depressingly – embarrassingly – my heart fluttered with something a little different. When he told me how few people had managed to get him to come inside them, something deep in my soul chimed in with: ‘I bet I can do it, though.’

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Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe he’s had a terrible week and the last thing he wants to think about is dating apps. Maybe he just doesn’t fancy me.

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If you missed the first part, here’s an overview: I had a test date with a blog reader, “Jack”, who took me up on my offer to do a phone chat and message exchange then give him feedback on where he might be going wrong. It was also a challenge for me. I am prone to avoiding constructive critique because I’m a rampant people-pleaser who never wants to upset anybody. Would I be able to tell Jack where he was going wrong without burying anything useful in a torrent of consoling positivity? Let’s see, shall we?

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There are two things I adore about today’s guest blog. Firstly its celebration of something that is so often shamed. I’m a sucker for a change in narrative, especially one which helps to brush aside societal norms that can be harmful and irritating. I’ve always found hairy armpits wildly sexy – watching a hot guy lie back in bed with his hands behind his head makes me want to do feral, torrid things with his body. But I always struggled to find pit hair sexy on myself, until I stopped shaving back in 2020 and never looked back. The second thing I love about this guest blog is the way it captures something I’ve tried to articulate myself, but never so clearly: the way that desire can mould and shape itself to the things in your life at this moment. Your partner’s quirks and mannerisms. Their specific body, and how it changes over time. This post is an ode to hairy armpits, but I think it’s also a love letter to this kind of desire. And I adore it.

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As a massive hedonist, I want you to find your joy. No one else in your life can ever have your happiness as their top priority (which is right – only you can truly know all the things that will bring you pleasure), so it probably needs to be a high priority for you. Around this time of year, some of you will likely have broken – or be about to break – one or more of the punitive resolutions you set yourself on the first of January. Restricting pleasure or causing yourself pain in the name of self improvement. I’m not qualified to tell you how to live a healthy or virtuous life, but if you want to make resolutions you can stick to, I have a few tips from the hedonist gutter that might help you set ones you’re less inclined to break.

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