Sort Yourself Out Ladies

Right, I’m naming and shaming. Well, not quite. But seriously though, what is up with girls airing their dirty linen in public? Or rather, on Facebook? Get a fucking grip.

When I woke up this morning, I checked my Instagram to see what’s going on in the world, and one of my female friends who I shall call The Sad-Act, had uploaded no fewer than 26 soppy, sad, depressing Instagram quote-posts. Honestly, it was almost vomit-inducing.

“Relationships are about trust. If you have to play detective, it’s time to move on.”

“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.”

“A man is only insecure about a female when he knows she deserves better.”

“Romeo and Juliet is just another examples of why communication within a relationship is so crucial.”

God, it’s depressing isn’t it? There were twenty-fucking-six of them. As if my morning hadn’t started out depressing enough already.

Why do girls do this? Guys NEVER do this, or at least, very rarely. I’ve never seen a guy go on for weeks and weeks on his Facebook / Twitter / Instagram accounts about how much he misses the girl, or how much his heart is breaking because she is no longer in his life. You never see that, do you? If you have seen that, please tell me, I’d really like to see it. And laugh, obviously. Wimp.

Sort Yourself Out Ladies

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know how heartbreaking a breakup can be. I’m still going through one of them myself, aren’t I? I know it’s heartbreaking and I know it feels as if the end of your life has come. But it hasn’t. As sad as I was, I knew I wouldn’t feel sad forever. I knew that although the pain would always be there, that the man I once loved would no longer be in my bed or in my life, it would subside, and one day I would ever find love again in someone new. That’s part of life isn’t it? Is there any real need to be soooooooo melodramatic about it in public?

The thing that really gets to me is the fact that she is PUBLICLY plastering her business all over social media. Surely she has more dignity than that? What happened to walking away from a breakup “winning” – head held high, no regrets, getting on just fine? On the outside at least. You would never know I was going through a breakup in the ‘real world’. There is no mention of it on Facebook. I don’t make my relationship status ‘single’, I just hide it so no one can see it, and then make it ‘single’ when I’m good and ready. I don’t change it so that anyone can see – I’m certainly not joining the pity party.

Sort Yourself Out Ladies

Why would you let a man have that much control over your happiness? Why would you let a man have that much control in front of 500 of your ‘closest’ friends? It makes no sense to me. I would just rather have a bit more dignity. I don’t need a man to complete me, and even if that’s not strictly true, I don’t need to admit as such to the entire world. Why would you let him know he still bugs you that much? If he did that bad shit to you, bad shit to warrant 26 Instagram posts hating on him, why would you even give him five seconds of your day? Clearly he’s not worth it if he fucked you up that much.

Sort Yourself Out Ladies

I don’t know. Those 26 posts just really annoyed me. Get a grip of yourself. NO man in the world is worth that. I wouldn’t even let David Beckham have 26 posts telling him how much he won this breakup war. Na uh. No way.

Sort yourself out ladies. That’s all I’m saying.

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The Etiquette of Sex

Right, I want to talk about the etiquette of sex. To be more precise, I want to talk about why guys feel the need to climax inside me after just three minutes of rampant bonking, ruining the rest of my night.

Let me set the scene…

It was a few weeks ago, and Someone New and I had been out for dinner and a few cocktails. More than a few, if I’m honest. I was undisputedly pissed. We headed back to his where he did his thing on the couch like he does, and it wasn’t long before we were heading to bed. It was my birthday just two days later, and because I wasn’t going to see him on the actual day, we made Thursday my birthday.

I was expecting some serious birthday sex. I had packed the We Vibe, a very clever little toy that I seem to have great results with. He brought the popping candy, ready to make my vagina tingle later on that night. I straddled him, and gave him his preview ‘dip-in, dip-out’ except it felt good…. So I carried on.

Two and a half minutes later, he apologised. What a fucking prick. He’d only gone and climaxed inside me. Yep, spunked his load right inside me. Great, thanks for that. Now he won’t go down on me. That’s it. He’s going to fall asleep now. He can’t touch me because I’m all gungy. That was my birthday sex? Three minutes of grunting, and thats it? I may have already done my thing (because he’d already preheated my oven on the couch, and I was raring to go before I even touched him) but that’s not the point.

THAT was my birthday sex?!

I got really annoyed by this because I like to think of myself as a VERY considerate lover. I may come across selfish at first but that’s because I’m super shy about my body, and about sex. I never used to be like this, but with the weight loss and awful bowel condition has come a lot of self-esteem issues. I also blame Jock a bit. Why not?

I don’t get to see my boyfriend very often, so when I do, I like to make it a REALLY good time. I put a lot of effort into getting ready after all, it’s only once a week / every couple of weeks. I shave EVERYWHERE. I make sure I’m baby-smooth. I lotion myself up so that I feel good and smell good. I wear nice and pretty makeup that I know he likes. I wear dresses and skirts for him, so that means extra leg-work and fake tan. I paint my toe nails so that they are a different colour or style every time I see him. I like to make sure I’ve had my acrylic nails done, and that my hair looks nice too. It might seem like a lot of hard work but that’s just what I like to do. I have a routine. I look forward to doing it. I put happy music on and smoke a joint as I get ready, excited to see him (at times).

So, when I get there, he’d best have put in some hard work too. He should have manscaped. At the very least, he should have shaved his balls. Someone New doesn’t do this, and I don’t really know how to broach the conversation with him.

“Hey honey, how are you doing today? Any chance you can de-fuzz your balls for the next time I’m around, so I don’t gag on the hairs in my mouth. Otherwise, I won’t be putting them in my mouth at all. Please and thank you!”

You can’t really say that to your boyfriend of six months, can you? I’ve not even farted in front of him yet. Considering I have a bowel issue, I’ve only pooped there twice. Trust me on this, it’s been emotional.

There’s a rule here – the etiquette of sex. If you haven’t seen your beloved for a while, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to cum within three minutes of thrusting into her, you get the blowjob out the way nice and early. If she doesn’t like doing it to you, just request it once. Make sure you haven’t jerked off earlier on that day. You’ll only last three minutes in her mouth because it’s such a rare treat, she won’t get bored or get a sore jaw, you’ll praise her and return the favour, she’ll learn that blowjobs work well to get her what she wants and be more likely to do them again in the future. Seriously, if it only takes three minutes (which it normally does), she won’t mind so much.

I did the blowjob thing and he stopped me! He pulled me on top of him! It was his fault he slid right on inside me, and it was his fault that he came and ruined my birthday sex night. We had toys and treats and it was over in three minutes. Not surprisingly, I turned right on over, with my back to him, and huffed myself to sleep. That’ll teach him. He can sit there and listen to me grumpy.

He made it up to me the next morning, of course. He’s a great guy. There’s still no real connection between us, but I think I am starting to like him a bit more. Or maybe it was just the real good sex we had the next day….? That shower sex!

Come back for that – its another story for another day.

The moral of this story – blowjobs have their place. If he’d let me finish my oral work, he would never have cum inside me, and the night would have gone very differently.

The Etiquette of Sex

Just saying.

Why Do You Like It When I Watch?

One thing that is becoming increasingly apparent about my new boyfriend, Someone New, is that he has quite the fetish for being watched. Not us together like dogging or anything seedy like that. Nope, he likes it when I watch him jerk off.

I’ve never been with this kinda guy before; the likes-to-be watched guy. To be honest, I’m not 100% sure how I feel about it. I’ve never been asked before. I’ve never been put in a situation where the guy would rather touch himself up than let me touch him before. I’m not sure how it makes me feel.

Does he want me to watch him because I’m not doing it right? I know if I were repeatedly asking a guy to watch me flick the bean, it would be more than likely because he wasn’t hitting the button quite right, and I thought I could give him a few little pointers. Is that what he is doing with me? Giving me a few little cheeky pointers?

Maybe I’m doing it just fine, and he just wants me to show him what else he likes? Maybe he does little things to himself that I don’t do to him, and although he likes what I do, he wants me to try that too?

Maybe I’m just reading too much into it, and he really just likes to be watched? It’s something I try to avoid to be honest, and when he pushes me back and grabs his cock with his hand, I normally just fight to put it in my mouth. He has such a beautiful cock, it would be a shame to let it go to waste…

I get uncomfortable. He’s watching me, watching him, and I’m not doing anything. I’m not allowed to touch him, even though I want to, and I’m too scared to touch myself in front of him. I need to be sure he’s staying before I let him too far in. Plus, I’m still learning about my new, slimmer body. I still don’t know how I feel about it.

I feel like a spare part. Like what am I meant to do? Sit there in front of him with a weird, gormless look on my face? I hardly think that’s attractive, do you?

I’m trying to open my mind to the new things this guy is bringing to the table, but as much as I like to think I’ve experienced everything that sex has to offer, I’m constantly surprised. He’s always making suggestions no one else has made before, and I think that’s what has kept me somewhat interested all this time. It’s definitely not boring.

I decided to just ask him outright and stop being a pussy:

“Why do you like it when I watch?”

He took forever to message back, because guys are fuckers like that, aren’t they? But when he did, the response wasn’t quite what I expected:

“Because I’m doing it for you, hopefully turning you on. I’ve got your full attention, and myself hotter and hornier, and seeing the look it gives you…

You get a look in your eyes, and you bite your lip. It’s when you’re on the verge of sucking my cock, normally just before you run your nails across my bare flesh. It makes me shake.”

Is it a control thing? He has my full attention? Doesn’t he? If we’re in bed together, where else does he think my attention is going to go?

Is it about not letting me touch him? I don’t think so – he never normally puts up much of a fight when I do.

So, what’s the deal? Why does it keep coming up? Why is he so intent on me watching him. Just watching him? From start to finish – floppy to climax, no touching, just watching. Isn’t that a bit weird? Who wants that much focus anyway? I’ve seen the faces I pull when I jerk off. I certainly wouldn’t want someone watching. Not unless I was drunk anyway.

So come on – what’s the deal?! Why does this guy want me to watch him want so bad? And what the hell am I meant to do while I’m watching?

Answers on a postcard. Or just below, obviously.

I Had AMAZING Sex Last Night.

I need to talk about last night. Oh boy do I. It’s been a shit few weeks. In fact, it’s been a shit few months, so the fact that I have something exciting and naughty to talk about for a change has filled me with happiness. Lame, right?

I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to go and see Someone New last night, but I hadn’t seen him for over two weeks and he was starting to get a bit antsy. I was hours later than I had planned to be, but to be fair the day didn’t go quite as I had planned. That’s a lie. I fart-assed about for the entire day, not really giving a shit because I was pretty sure I was going to blow him out anyway.

In the end, I went and I’m really glad I did. The last few times we’ve hung out, I’ve told him to be gentle with me, but we’ve both gotten a bit carried away. Each time we’ve slept together, he’s made me bleed… For days after. I’m putting this down to the LLETZ I had a while back, but it’s really pissing me off. This time, he promised he’d go gentle so I wouldn’t bleed again. Gentle isn’t quite what I would call it… But I didn’t bleed anyway! 😉

We had a lazy evening on the couch, watching Finding Nemo because we clearly haven’t grown up yet. We ordered fish and chips. We snuggled in his super-soft blanket, and I gave him the obligatory blowjob on the couch. You see, when you don’t see your boyfriend for weeks at a time, you get used to him blowing his load waaaaaay too soon. When he does this, there’s spunk inside you so he then won’t go down on you. Sorry to be crude. You miss out, he gets what he wants… Hardly fair, right?

I’m smart – I give him head first. It takes five minutes maximum because it’s been so long and I come across the perfect girlfriend (although I love giving head anyway). Plus we both get what we want – I get my fair share of oral sex later on because I’m not looking like something out of a creampie porno, he gets a blowjob, and we have great sex before drifting off to sleep. Not always like that, obviously; we’re not boring or predictable yet. But you get the general idea – that first blowjob works for you both!

Back to my night, and it wasn’t long before we were climbing into bed. He reached into his bedside cabinet drawer and pulled something out – a black, silky blindfold. Clearly my boyfriend had been shopping. Carefully blindfolded, I positioned myself ready for the cunnilingus I was desperately hoping for but it didn’t come… Instead, I heard what I thought were clicking noises and I’ll be honest, for a moment, I shit myself. I was petrified. I couldn’t see what was coming. I didn’t know where he was. I didn’t know what he had in his hands, or what was going to happen next. I felt his hands roaming over my breasts and my skin exploded with goosebumps. Apparently fear is quite the turn on. It’s been such a long time since someone tried to push my boundaries, I almost forgot quite how exciting it was.

He held my nipples in his fingers, rubbing his thumb over the top of them, and then I felt something that wasn’t his fingers. Something vibrating, something that clamped down onto my nipples but in a way that didn’t hurt. It wasn’t until the next morning that I learned they were these things:

Vibrating Nipple Clamps available at Ann Summers.

Vibrating Nipple Clamps available at Ann Summers.

Can I first just say that I would definitely personally recommend them? Well, I would. They don’t hurt, surprisingly enough. In fact, they bring a little something new to the table – something almost painful, but definitely more than verging into pleasure. He had those nicely buzzing away on my nipples, while he worked his magic with his fingers and his tongue down below.

He told me he’d never me felt me cum that hard – back arched more than he’d seen before, and my insides clamping down so hard, he marvelled at my strength. It was mind-blowing. The whole night was. The blindfold combined with the vibrating nipple clamps gave me the craziest orgasm I’d ever had, and when he moved the clamps down and gently placed them on my lips… Fuck. Just fuck.

I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t stop my hands from tearing at the bed sheets. I couldn’t stay still, squirming around his bed wanting more, and wanting him to stop, all at the same time. I was putty in his hands and I would have done anything he wanted in that moment. When he slid into me and gently rocked me to my final orgasm before finishing himself off in my mouth and spooning me to sleep, I realised something – this guy really tries hard to make me happy.

We talk a lot, normally via our phones because we don’t see each other enough, and we’ve covered a lot of topics. Sex, obviously, is one of the biggest things we talk about, and I’ve already explained to him in great detail my annoyance about guys seriously avoiding my nipples, despite being perma-obsessed with my tits.

Why does this happen? Why do all guys shout, scream and make such a commotion about my chest, only to completely ignore it when I’m all good and naked? It really pisses me off, and from what I can work out, I’m far from the only girl that feels like this. Guys – seriously. Why are you avoiding them? They are there to be played with!

Anyway, Someone New listened to this and did something about it. Not only did he dedicate a full five minutes just playing with my nipples while kissing me – biting them, tweaking them, nibbling on them, licking them, blowing them, and more, but he also bought toys to ensure they weren’t left out when he was focusing on other areas! He knows I have a serious pleasure-pain fetish, and I think he’s excited to play around with it. He’s never done that with anyone before; I think he may have lead a somewhat vanilla sex life. Well…. That’s about to change. Clearly. Woo hoo!

But seriously though. He’s really trying. And he’s actually working out to be a really nice guy. Like a really nice guy. We’ve been dating for three and a half months and I can honestly say, there’s nothing that really bugs me about him. Plus I’m starting to develop feelings for him. I don’t know what they are, and I’m definitely nowhere near ready for the whole L-word thing yet. God no. He is though. It’s on the very tip of his tongue. It keeps popping up in random places like the random hearts he sends me via text (I’ve NEVER sent him a heart, I don’t do that), or when he replied to a random selfie I sent the other day with “Love that little face”. That’s basically the L-word, right?

In fact, he’s full of the awesome text messages. Just check this next one out:


Sorry, I just wanted to share that cuteness with someone. It’s so cute, it almost makes you want to vomit, doesn’t it? But that’s what he’s like. He does stuff. He says stuff. It’s all the right stuff. He’s bought me vintage scarves because I said I liked them. He got me a Frozen easter egg because he knows I love that movie. He got me a tube of Smarties when he went to Switzerland with work; a special one in a special tube with a Mickey Mouse figurine on the lid. The blindfold, the cock ring, the nipple clamps, making me dinner, making sure I’m OK…. It’s all a thousand times away from what I had with, dare I say his name, Jock.

A million miles away.

So why am I just not that into him yet? At this point with Jock, I was well and truly smitten with him – hooked, obsessed, addicted. With Someone New, I’m not quite sure even though, by all accounts, he’s actually a pretty damn awesome guy, and very well matched to me. Why not? If he’s ticking all the right boxes, and we have the right chemistry, why isn’t it all sliding into place? Why am I still not quite sure? He rocked my world last night and yet somewhere along the lines, I seem to have missed a trick. He’s clearly well into me. Why am I not well into him?

Still, I had AMAZING sex last night. 

I HATE Condoms.

Right, I’m a 20-something girl who has had her fair share of sex and has racked up a certain amount of sexual partners over the years. I’m not a complete twat, I know how important safe sex is. I know how important condoms are. But seriously – I fucking hate them.

I Hate Condoms

They ruin the mood for a start. Now don’t get me wrong, nothing ruins the mood even more than an STI, but they seriously ruin the mood. There is nothing attractive about a guy putting on a condom, and let’s be honest about this, there aren’t that many attractive ways that a girl can put one on her guy either. What am I meant to do when these guys are putting on their rubbers? Am I meant to look at them, look away, amuse myself, flick dust bits off the duvet…? It’s an awkward, uncomfortable moment, especially when the lights are on or it’s daylight, and I hate it.

Oh, and what about buying them? I have the HARDEST time buying condoms. Just take a read at this:

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

Once again, I fucking HATE them.

Oh and what about those times when you forget the condoms? Those are the fucking absolute worst times. That was like my third date with Someone New – both of us forgot them, even though we had even discussed having them ready and which ones we should buy, and it was the most frustrating, pissed-off date of my entire life. Either that or one of you has to do the mad, desperate dash to the local petrol station, chemist, shop, or pub toilet machine wearing jeans and no underwear, and no t-shirt under that hoody that you hastily threw on.

Then there’s the whole plastic-bag-in-between-you-during-sex thing. I don’t care how thin they make these fuckers, or how much like skin they manage to make them feel, they don’t feel like fucking skin. They don’t feel natural. They don’t feel non-existent. They are there, they squelch, they make noise, and most of the time, I can feel them.

Plus, have you ever given head to a guy wearing a rubber? Strawberry-flavoured my ass. It doesn’t matter what kind, brand, or flavour of condom that you buy, they always taste like rubbery, lubricated shit. End of conversation.

The position-changes are the worst though. He’s desperately trying to keep the rubber on his cock while you contort around the bed trying to breathe in, push your tits out, make your butt look firmer, and in reality, he’s not paying attention to any of your hard work. He’s just praying that his dick stays hard while it’s raincoat-covered self is desperately waiting for you to get comfy so he can merrily thrust into you again.

If he decides to just cum all over you, there’s that awkward moment when you’re lying there on your back, hands caressing your own breasts, and he’s there pinging the condom off his cock with gusto – like he’s just won a prize and is eagerly unwrapping it. What the fuck guys? Why are you doing that? Just take the condom off like a normal person. There’s no need to be a dick.

If he doesn’t decided to cum all over you and prefers to blurt his load in said condom, there’s none of the lazy post-coital moments where you let him go soft inside you and he slides out with a plop as the two of you doze off. Nope, you can’t do that. Not that most of us would want to. But if he stays in there just a moment too long, there’s the risk that the condom can come off as his dick shrinks in it’s porridgy grave it’s entombed within. Plus then he needs to actually hold his own manhood as he slides out of you in a most undignified fashion, to again ensure that the said condom won’t just slide off and spill his baby-batter everywhere.

Of course, you could be massively super unlucky like me last night. You could be merrily grinding and humping your way on top of him, the position that drives him crazy and makes him ‘cum so hard, I get dizzy’ (his words, not mine), let him blurt his load inside you, and then realise that the condom is nowhere to be fucking seen.

He goes to hold the bottom of the rubber while you ‘hop off’, but there was no rubber there to hold. Was it inside me? Embarrassed, I quickly have a feel before realising it’s not easily accessible wherever it is, and scampering to the bathroom. I pop two fingers up and have a feel around… I can’t feel the condom. Oh my god has it actually gone inside of me? No, surely not. That can’t be the case. There’s nowhere for it to go… Or is there? I recently had that LLETZ procedure to remove precancerous cells. Could it be lost somewhere in that? Holy shit. What the fucking fuck am I going to do?

I clean myself and his juices out of me and run back to the bedroom. He’s found it, thankfully. It must have become dislodged somewhere between me being on my back and me humping away on top of him. Breathe a sigh of relief – condom is not lost somewhere inside the inner depths of my body.

Later that night, I realised something. Six weeks ago, I underwent a very invasive and uncomfortable procedure to remove precancerous cells caused by essentially what is an STI passed to me during sexual contact, probably by my husband. He was a skank and he caught at least two disease in the time that I knew him. Yes, let’s blame him, the fucking skank. Despite my hatred for him and the complete disregard he had of my sexual health to go sleeping with hookers without using protection (apparently – that’s what he told me), just hours earlier I basically had unprotected sex with a man I’d known for just a couple of months. Oh and I’m not on the pill anymore and haven’t been for months.

I asked him to go and get himself tested and his response lead me to believe he hadn’t ever been tested before, or if he had, hadn’t been for years. He didn’t deny it when I asked him later on. I have pestered, badgered, and bugged him into finding the number for the local clinic and promising to call them up tomorrow to make himself an appointment. I don’t give a fuck how uncomfortable it makes him. He’s doing it or he doesn’t get inside me anymore. I’m going back on the pill and I’ve been recently tested for everything with the all-clear, it’s his time to stand up and take responsibility for something in our relationship. If he wants me, this is what he needs to do to get me. I don’t actually think that’s too unreasonable. Do you?

Plus, I’m not on the pill. I’m due on my period in the next couple of days, although we don’t know what the LLETZ will have done to my already pretty fucked cycle. I am considering getting myself the morning after pill but I will wait another 12 hours to see if my period comes. If it doesn’t, I’ll run to the pharmacy. The last thing I want to do right is get myself pregnant. Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

So yeah, I fucking hate condoms. I would go through every uncomfortable sexual health test in the world if it meant not needing to wear those awful, rubbery things. I’d forget about my needle phobia and have every vaccination known to man if I meant I could have sex without a condom.

I hate them. I fucking hate them. And now I’m hoping I don’t get fucking pregnant.

Oral In The Morning?

So last night I had my sixth date with my Someone New. I think it was the sixth anyway. I’ve been real busy with writing work and my day job (I’ve actually managed to do like three weeks without phoning in sick so far – that’s a major improvement for me), and I’ve had my last therapy session! It feels like things are on the up despite my boyfriend being a whole load clingier than I imagined he would be. We shall talk about this later.

For now I want to talk about what happened this morning. Now last night, we had sex as predicted. The only problem was, I started bleeding right after. That’s right, our sixth date was the ‘four-week’ date – when I could officially have sex after the LLETZ procedure to remove my pre-cancerous cells, which was a success by the way. I am all-clear for six months! Anyway, the bleeding and the pain I had meant that we agreed to give it another week before we tried anything again so this morning, he woke me up with his morning wood, and I instinctively moved my hand to greet it.

Not long into things, he told me he wanted me to blow him until he finished. Now normally, I wouldn’t have minded this but it was six o’clock in the morning, my victory roll from the night before had flopped unceremoniously and unattractively, I hadn’t even had a sip of water, tea or anything yet, and I had barely manage to remove the sleep-gunge from the corners of my eyes before he was blurting his load down the back of my throat.

Hmmm. I don’t know how I felt about that.

Rapey oral is always hot, as far as I’m concerned, but there is something to be said about having a little respect first thing in the morning. I mean, isn’t his mouth dry as a bone when he first wakes up? Bad breath and all? Did he seriously think that my poor, dry mouth was going to be able to bring him to an earth-shattering finish? It did, but only with a lot of help from my hands and his pre-cum. My mouth doesn’t even work to speak at 6am, let alone suck a dick.

Oral In The Morning?

Honestly, I actually found the whole scenario a bit rude and there’s not much that shocks me anymore. I can honestly say, however, that no one else has ever asked me to blow them until they squirted down the back of my throat at six in the morning before. Well, unless we were still up from the night before but that’s something else entirely.

So, dry mouth aside, we got there in the end but I feel that I should have my little rant about it. Too frightened to say to him what I would really want to, plus I don’t really want to hurt his feelings, I figured the best place to vent my frustrations would be here… So here I go.


I don’t know how to express that loudly or more concisely to you, gentlemen. Oh yes, this isn’t just for my guy – this is for all the guys that think it is acceptable to basically force your cock down someone’s throat at that god forsaken hour of the morning.

If you want me to blow you, please bring me either water, tea, diet coke, or any other similar cold, wet beverage so that I can quench my thirst. Perhaps even let me to get up to pee but I can honestly forgive that if you can’t wait. But trying to suck a dick with a mouth like the Sahara desert is no easy task. I’m just eternally grateful that my guy produces enough lubricant without me needing to bring my zero-reserve spit levels into play. Not all girls are this lucky.

Oh and if you’re going to cum in my mouth, actually cum in my mouth not over my arm, up my nose, in my hair and across the bed. I know you guys can’t manage to get your aim together for something as large as the toilet bowl, but at least try to have some kind of aim when your target is her open mouth. If you’re going to make a mess all over me (which he did), at least have the decency to bring me a towel or some tissue (which he did).

I guess what I’m trying to say is that there are certain things it’s not acceptable to do first thing in the morning. Just take a peek at the 10 Rules of Morning Sex if you need a helping hand. Anal sex is a definite no-no, and I’ve just added oral sex to the list too. That is, unless my parched mouth has been quenched beforehand, and your semen isn’t the first drink of my day.

Please and thank you! 🙂 

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

I actually meant to write this the other day when I bought emergency condoms for my fourth date with Someone New but what with everything else going on, I didn’t quite get around to it. It’s still bugging me though so I feel the need to talk about it…

Why is buying condoms in your late twenties so difficult?

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

I thought I had some in my room and five minutes AFTER I was due to leave the house to catch the bus for my date, I realised I didn’t know where they were. I had a quick rummage in some drawers and cupboards that I believed I would reasonably keep them and then I realised, I’m pretty sure I gave the box I had to Bestie. FUCK.

I’d already accepted I was going to be late at this point so took a leisurely stroll into town on my way to the station and run into one of the little stores – a bottle of water, some Kleenex, gum and a two-pack of condoms. Someone was clearly in for a good night.

I had so many dilemmas at this point.

Firstly, a box of 12 condoms seemed a bit over-eager. Who has sex 12 times in one night? Especially the first night? Who takes 12 condoms?

Secondly, where would I keep the box? I’d need to take them out of the box, find somewhere to dispose of the box, keep two rubbers spare and easily accessible in the handbag somewhere, and hide the other ten so I didn’t look like a complete, raging nymphomaniac.

Thirdly, what about a two-pack? I’m sure these used to be a three-pack. Didn’t they used to be a three-pack? Three was a great number – three times in one night is a good effort. Two doesn’t seem enough. It also seems cheap. What if he has already picked some up though? Maybe I’ll go with the lady-like two-pack and leave it at that.

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

What kind of condoms do I buy? Classic? Ribbed? Extra-long? Extra-small? Medium? Ones with nobbles on? Flavoured ones? Which brand is best? Gosh, condom politics! Clearly I’ll need to go with a standard ‘medium’ fit, right? Too big or too small and we’ve got an embarrassing situation on our hands. Do I need lube? Shall I buy lube? What about a vibrating cock ring? It’s right there…? Too much? Yeah, probably too much.

Fuck, I can’t just buy condoms. That’s too obvious. What else do I need? What else can I buy? I don’t have a pack of Kleenex in my bag so I’ll buy one of those, just in case. I can’t be the girl that doesn’t have Kleenex in her bag – I’m too emotional these days.

I get halfway around the store and I realise I just bought condoms and tissues. Christ if that doesn’t have “I’M GOING TO HAVE SEX TONIGHT” written all over it, I don’t know what does. I add a bottle of water and a packet of chewing gum. Fuck, I couldn’t have made this look any worse at all, could I? I give up.

I get to the counter, it’s late thankfully and there’s no one else in the store. I can’t remember the last time I bought condoms. The guy has always made it very clear he has them. I’m an get-an-STI-test-and-get-into-a-serious-relationship-kinda-girl. Or get-them-free-from-the-GUM-clinic kinda girl. I always seem to ‘accumulate’ condoms too. I don’t really know where they come from. I must secretly steal them from guys when I’m drunk / asleep.

The guy at the counter is creepy, really creepy. He has multicoloured pink, purple, blue and green long hair, and he’s looking at me really creepily. He’s hitting on me! I’m pretty sure he’s hitting on me! This can’t be happening to me! He said the creepiest of things too – “I really like your jacket, where did you get it from?” before mumbling on about some heavy-metal rock brand I’ve never, ever heard of because I grew out of the memo phase when I was 16 years old. Smiling creepily and putting the condoms through the scanner and into the carrier bag, he then proceeded to ask me what I was going to be doing with my evening. Seriously? I just bought a pack of two condoms, some Kleenex, a pack of chewing gum and sparkling water, what do you really think I’m up to tonight? Cleaning my kitchen? Fucking idiot.

Why Is Buying Condoms In Your Twenties So Difficult?

Throughout that entire traumatic experience, I just kept thinking to myself “I’d better get laid tonight, I’d better get laid tonight” and then when I got there, Someone New had bought a 12-pack of rubbers and various sachets of tingling / numbing / heating up lubricant too! All that hard work, all that drama for nothing! He had supplied the condoms. Still, better to be safe than sorry I guess. And let’s face it, we were both more than disappointed with the fact we both forgot condoms on our third date. I would have stabbed him if that happened again. I was facing the prospect of four weeks without sex – we were having sex that night even if we needed to use cling film*. End of conversation.

*Disclaimer: I’m not stupid enough to use clingfilm. 

The problem here is WHY was it so embarrassing buying condoms? Was it the situation that made me feel uncomfortable – the weird, creepy guy behind the counter, the last minute panic buying of rubbers? Would I have felt as uncomfortable if I had gone to Boots and picked a box of 12 up with my regular toiletries? Would it have made a difference if I had been served by a female?  Surely, aside from a bar toilet, there has got to be an easier, less painful way of buying them?

Because clearly it is not something that has gotten easier with age… 

Is there a next-day emergency delivery service of condoms I don’t know about? If there isn’t, could someone please invent this. Many thanks!