Baby, Can I Hold You

First Date

July 10, 2025

dating, relationships, sex

I hadn’t intended to write a series of posts walking down memory lane but now that I’ve started, I’ll continue with at least my first date story. It’s a bit unusual maybe in terms of how fast everything happened but it was by design and I knew what I was doing with it. Plus, all these years later it still makes me smile to think of it.

To set the scene, I was both raised in a strict home environment and also in a house where I had all the freedom I could ever want. I don’t know how much that makes sense? But my dad and older brother were protective and even when I might have a crush or had any attention from my brother’s friends, it would quickly be shut down by my dad or my brother.

Fast forward to me being a teenager with access to public transport, the Internet had meant that spaces online had been created where I could connect with others without the presence of my family and didn’t have to rely on school or hobbies to connect me with other people. So at 16, I went on my first date.

He was someone I met online in a chatroom for my local area. We must have messaged back and forth quite a bit before we agreed to meet up but I don’t remember what we talked about. He was 18 and I don’t remember too much about him all these years later. He had a proper adult job, he lived in his own studio flat. He had a car. He seemed to be interested in me, which was key for me. Eventually he asked if I wanted to go on a date and if I would like to be picked up?

I hadn’t wanted him to know where I lived right away, so I agreed and met him at the park at the end of my road. I remember what I wore. Wide legged jeans and my favourite vest top, no bra. My hair down and wild around my face. I hadn’t thought to change my clothes or brush my hair. And as I leaned over to say hi to him through his car window I remember that when he saw me, he did this big gulp before he said ‘oh god, you’re really pretty’ and I smiled. It was the first time I remember anyone ever telling me that I was pretty.

I think he had hoped that I would be impressed by his car. It was red and possibly a model of car that is impressive to other people. I liked that he had his freedom with it. He drove me to a place that sells burgers just a bit nicer than fast food and again, I don’t remember what we talked about all evening. I mostly remember that I didn’t particularly like how tall he was (probably 6’2) but I liked his big blue eyes and when he smiled, which wasn’t often, he looked younger than he was. I think he thought I was more serious than I came across online so it was a surprise to him when I said something funny.

After we’d finished eating, he asked if I needed to get back home or if I had some time to drive around. I was intrigued enough to say I’d stick around and we drove around listening to the music playing from the radio. He didn’t like my taste in music, if I recall, but we argued about it in a way that made me laugh.

Eventually he parked his car in this area that sort of overlooked the town we lived in. When he turned the engine off he blushed a little bit before he said surely I’ve been here before, sorry for him not being more original. And I said I hadn’t been there before. He was surprised, he said it was a place that a lot of people go to … and he got embarrassed again and almost didn’t want to finish the sentence. Make out? I suggested and he seemed relieved that I wasn’t offended.

Where do you normally go on your dates? he asked. This is my first date, I said. More surprise. And he said does that mean I’d had boyfriends and stuff and just hadn’t been out on a date? Nope, I said. And that’s when he got a little quiet. Processing that, I guess.

I loved that he was surprised. I loved that he thought I was the type of pretty girl that got invited out to dates so often, that I’d breezed through all the hot date spots, that I had experience with boys. But I wasn’t that girl. But I loved pretending to be that girl with him. So when he started playing a game, I went along with it.

So …that means you’ve never been kissed before? And I smiled. No, I’ve never been kissed. Do you want to? he asked. And silently, I leaned over to him, trying to lick my lips first before I had my first kiss. That was soft and gentle and exceedingly sweet.

So …that means you’ve never had a second kiss? No, I’ve not. Or a third kiss… and there we were kissing again around my smile. I don’t remember all the things he said to me that night. The different suggestions he gave.

But they kept coming so …you’ve never been touched by a boy? on your neck? or kissed on your neck? No. I think he liked being all my firsts. That I’d never been to a make out spot and made out for hours. His hand started easing up my vest top at one point but he’d stop and he’d say so …that means nobody has ever touched you here, as his hand slowly went higher up to the side of my breast. No, I’d say, breathless from pleasure, nobody has ever touched me there. Or here? he said, as his fingers grazed across my nipple.

It was agonising in its slowness, as he stopped each time to ask, to get my confirmation that that had never happened. The unspoken consent I gave as I leaned into his kisses, into his touch. Into every suggestion he gave. Even when he knew he was crossing a line. But I was young and impatient and I wanted it all. I knew where my boundaries were and he didn’t cross any of them. He was chancing it but I wanted to go to these places with him, I was ready, I’d just never had this opportunity before.

So …does that mean you’ve never seen a penis in real life? No, I haven’t. Do you want to?

Does that mean you’ve never touched a penis before? No. Do you want to?

Does that mean you’ve never had a penis in your mouth before? Do you want to?

I was acting and making decisions on pure instinct but I didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong, I didn’t feel pressured. I knew that I was in control, he put me in charge of what I wanted to do and what I didn’t. And I knew all along that if I’d said ‘no’ that things would end. But even in the moment I remember wanting to know how far things would go, where would they end?

But I swirled my tongue over his dick for a few minutes at the most before it all ended and I think with his release some of the lust haze had cleared and he suddenly felt bad that we’d done what we had. It all ended fairly rapidly after that and he dropped me home.

But he called me the next day. And the next day. And once, a few weeks later, as we were walking about the High Street, holding hands he abruptly stopped and said ‘I really like you, will you be my girlfriend?’ And so he became my first boyfriend as well as all my other firsts.

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Fascinating But Mental

July 9, 2025

dating

I was on a date recently. I was going to take my dog with me but he was feeling particularly lazy and didn’t seem that excited to go for a longer walk so I didn’t. But I met this man in a nearby park before an event he was going to later.

We had only just started talking a couple of days before we’d met up and I probably wouldn’t have met him so early except he was in my neighbourhood by coincidence so I thought why not? He was an interesting person to talk to online and that translated well when we met up. And unlike a lot of men, he did seem genuinely interested in me and asked me lots of questions. We talked about me being demisexual and reciprosexual and how that changed things for me. How complicated attraction can be. We talked a bit about sex and dating and how that’s gone for us both. We also talked about ourselves and our lives.

When we agreed to meet, I had given him my number and told him my real name and that I preferred that he call me by the name I’d had on my profile online. He accepted this without question but towards the end of the date when he walking me back to my car I was telling a story about learning to drive and how my driving instructor would just say my name very gently before she said things like perhaps you should slow down or whatever it was. It was at this point that he asked ‘how come she can say your name?’

And … I don’t think I’m always open about my name thing straightaway. Obviously I’ve told people before but usually I will gradually let people into some of my more interesting quirks. It just so happened that everything was concentrated to all of my quirks in a short period of time with this person.

I’ve lived my life online. And I’ve always created a different persona for myself when I could. If it’s possible to use a different name than my own, I have. Because I prefer it. I did grow up not particularly enjoying my own name but also, I like the person I can be by choosing something else. And then somehow it evolved into something more.

I can’t explain how or why it ended up like this but in a sexual or a romantic context, I don’t like others using my name. Because when they do use it? And this is only the people I know in a sexual or romantic way? Saying my name sounds like ‘I love you’ to me. So I actually love hearing my name, I just only want to hear it from those who do actually love me. Which is why I typically ask other people to use the name I’m going by instead of my actual name. And that’s what I said to this man I was on a date with.

His response? He said ‘You’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. Fascinating but mental. You know that, right? That you’re mental?’ And then he asked when we could see each other again. Funnily enough, I’m not rushing to make that happen.

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When It Should Have Happened

July 8, 2025

relationships

It’s funny how I start to unravel certain things in my head. The layers upon layers within relationships. The cracks that start out small and turn into canyons. That break up a marriage.

My ex and I are still in the process of finalising our divorce. And it’s been a rollercoaster, if I’m honest. Everything fell apart for the last time 4 and a half years ago and we’re still walking through the steps of splitting our lives from each other. It’s been complicated and I won’t get into the details. But I was thinking the other day how it all should have happened 15 years ago.

I’m coming up to a very personal anniversary. It has nothing to do with my marriage or any relationship I’ve had. It’s an anniversary about me only. And it was in the thinking of how I will celebrate this anniversary that I remembered that this thing happened.

I met my ex husband online many years ago. And at the same time in the space online, I met a friend of mine. Perhaps I should put friend in quotes there but no. He was a friend. And he was a good friend for a long time. What happened wasn’t about him and all about me. I met my ex husband and this person at the same time. And for awhile when things got serious between me and my ex husband, my friendship with this other person obviously took a step back.

I got married, my life as a partnership started. And there were always cracks. Always. I’ve talked about this at length in therapy but there were always things that I’d consider red flags that I didn’t see, didn’t consider, didn’t concern me at the time. And yet I persisted. Because there was a lot of good in my relationship, in my marriage.

But when things started becoming not so great, my friendship with this man reignited. We’d email every now and again, mostly to update each other on the overlap of the people we used to know. He had kept in touch with some of them and I had kept in touch with others. We were never particularly close, never deep friends. Until we were. I remember it happened gradually in the year or 18 months before The Thing happened. I’d slowly change our once monthly emails into more frequent messaging. I’d ask him more questions, I’d bring up subjects that would dig deeper into who he was as a person.

I look back on it now and can see with clarity what I was doing. I was blind to my own loneliness and I was seeking out meaningful emotional connection with whoever was available, whoever was amenable to me chipping away at their walls. To get closer, to burrow into someone else. And this friend of mine wasn’t innocent. I definitely developed some feelings for him and objectively speaking, even though I didn’t say anything nor did he, I feel like it’s safe to say that so did he. We crossed a line, him and I. And it all came to a head shortly before my anniversary 15 years ago.

We had been talking online for hours that night. The only thing I remember specifically is that I brought up this anniversary. He thought it was really cool and asked how I’d celebrate, what I would do to commemorate this day. And I said probably nothing? and he objected to that very strongly. He said he refused to let such an important day go unnoticed and uncelebrated. He was going to buy me flowers and have them delivered on the day. I remember feeling pleased and like an actual spark had been lit inside me. He asked for my number so we could arrange the details another time. I gave him my number but then told him that I’d need to go, I was feeling pretty sleepy.

I turned off my computer, went into the bedroom I shared with my ex husband, plugged my phone into my charger and went to the toilet to brush my teeth. In the few minutes I was in the bathroom, it happened. My friend had sent me a text message because he’d had my number for all of 10 minutes. The text had read ‘Going so soon?’ with a winky face. And possibly a kiss. And the thing was, it was 2am and I’d left the ringer on so it made a noise to let me know that someone had texted me. But they’d done it when I was out of the room.

And things weren’t right between me and my ex husband. I don’t blame him for looking at my phone. To see who had texted me so early in the morning. But seeing that text it laid things fairly open as to what I’d been doing the last couple of hours. Talking to someone else. In a manner that warranted a flirtatious emoji, a kiss.

I look back on it now and wonder how things didn’t just end then. It would have been better, probably. Saving ourselves the slow death of our relationship for the next ten years. We stayed up very late that night not talking. Mostly lying next to each other in bed being inches away from each other but feeling like an entire ocean separated us. And there was distance between us. I hadn’t broken what was between us but I’d brought our broken parts into the light. But that night and the difficult nights after it we chose to resuscitate the dying embers of who we were.

Years later, and years after we should have, we decided to finally end things. And he said something to me that felt quite cold and awful but it makes sense in the context of everything happened. But he said he was always waiting for me to tell him that I’d cheated on him. That he always just lived with that feeling, knowing that it was possible. That it had happened. And that he was waiting for confirmation that it had happened again.

And I’ve carried that comment around with me for years. It’s been a heavy burden. I’ve always felt like I deserved the pain of that comment. That I deserved the guilt I carried, at hurting him. At the betrayal of what I had done. But it’s taken me actual years to also get to a point where I realise that there was hurt and betrayal on both sides. Am I excusing my behaviour? Am I excusing that I stepped out of my marriage? Am I excusing that I hurt my ex? No.

I’m just allowing myself a little bit of grace. That for every story like mine there’s also the story of my marriage. The one where I stopped feeling safe, where I stopped feeling supported, where I stopped feeling important. I give myself grace because I know the ways in which I told him that I was unhappy, that my emotional needs weren’t met, that I needed something from him. And I know that in hundreds of ways he did nothing, didn’t see my pain, didn’t see my hurt.

We did a pretty great job of hurting each other.

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Unsticky

July 7, 2025

dating, relationships, sex

I first read Unsticky by Sarra Manning the same week it was published 16 years ago. I had been a fan of her YA books and I was excited to read her first foray into the adult market. It’s a book about a young woman who accepts an older man’s proposition to be his girlfriend in exchange for thousands of pounds per month. On a whim, I decided to pick it up again to see if I’d love it as much this time as I did when I first read it.

One of the first things that surprised me was that I was in my mid to late twenties when the book first came out. I remember being drawn into the story and loving it completely – but I didn’t have memories attached to my own age. I’d been married for nearly a decade when Unsticky was published and despite only being a few years older than the main character, Grace, I found that I had nothing in common with her. I didn’t understand her. Not just that she was in fashion working at a magazine. But all of it. Being single at 23. Living in London, going out and meeting people, having young people experiences. Part of the appeal about reading Unsticky was living vicariously through her experiences.

One of the most interesting things that I noticed about my initial reaction and how that opinion has changed is my reaction to the age gap between Grace and Vaughn. When I first read it, I was pretty shocked at him being 18 years older than her, and gasp, in his early 40s. I remember when I first read it I didn’t think people in their 40s were appealing to me sexually and when I read it I actually pretended like he wasn’t in his 40s but that his age hovered around the more acceptable 35 (god, I was awful!). Now that I’m in my 40s, shockingly my perspective has changed.

I think this time around I viewed some of Grace’s realisations about her own sexual pleasure to be a lot more interesting but also her views on relationships and dating. Obviously this is because I’ve been on my own quest towards figuring out my own sexual wants and needs and dipping my own toes into relationships and dating. Her cynical view of love made me sad then and it still makes me sad now. But there are things that are said in the book that still make me feel deep inside because of the truth of it.

I’m pretty sure the ‘whim’ I had was more to explore a story where the relationship the two main characters have seems cold and like a business transaction but not so deep down there’s real love and affection there. I think I wanted to read it because I want to pretend that the situationship I’m in goes deeper than it does. I want to pretend that at the end of our story will come declarations of love too.

And it was nice to slide back into familiar story for a bit. With the crazy highs and lows of fashion and high art, with bickering best friends and prickly men. It’s definitely a favourite for a reason.

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First Sexual Experience

July 4, 2025

sex

I was fairly young when I had my first sexual experience. I was maybe 13 or 14. My older brother was quite involved in sports and this meant a lot of time and scheduling that existed around getting him to places to play this sport. And I was pretty much dragged from place to place because of it.

Which was fine for the most part. I was a bookish, socially awkward child and young person. I always had a book with me to lose myself in and I was able to blend in (or disappear) around other people. But sometimes in order for the coordination of thing to work, my dad would join forces with another family to split the travel costs and driving etc. And when I was 13 or 14 we had paired ourselves with this great family filled with loud characters and laughter. They had a son the same age as my brother and two daughters, one of whom was a year older than me and one a year younger than me. I loved the whole family. I wanted the parents to be my parents, I wanted to live in their crazy household. I had a teeny crush on the older brother based on nothing much as he and I almost never spent any time together.

And the two girls? For sure both of them ended up being who I wanted to be. The older girl was effortlessly cool and sophisticated and the younger girl was ridiculously funny and the life of everywhere she went. I loved spending time with them. I remember I spent more time with the younger sister (cementing the older sister as being mysterious and brooding and interesting!) but when it was the three of us it all felt really easy and natural. I’d sleep over quite often as our brothers were out doing sport things and we got into such ridiculous scrapes. I remember we got really sick eating too much melted cheese once and I cried thinking we’d get into trouble when we accidentally broke something another time but their mother would bustle in and give me these quick comforting cuddles, just one squeeze that would let me know everything was okay. Their house was not like my house.

It was one of those nights where I stayed over that it happened. I was in a sleeping bag on the floor between their two beds when the younger sister said something in a frustrated sort of way. I was already half asleep so I didn’t quite catch what she’d said and the older sister told her to shut up. But they bickered enough and loudly enough that I lost that sleepy feeling and eventually asked what they were arguing about.

And it turned out to be that the younger one was annoyed that the older sister was masturbating before she went to sleep. I shared that I’d never masturbated before, that I didn’t really even know how to start. And I remember the younger sister throwing her head back in this UGH why did you say that sort of way.

Because then the older sister invited me into her bed, told me that I was missing out by not giving myself pleasure, and she asked if I wanted to give it a try. So then we were lying shoulder to shoulder and at first she was giving me instructions, where to put my hand, how much pressure to use, the movement I should be making. But at some point she had gotten impatient waiting for me to do it right and I remember it so clearly. She had turned so that she was on her side facing me still on my back and I turned my head to look at her and our faces were so close together and she whispered to me, shall I do it for you? and I nodded my head and then it was her fingers and my gasps as the feeling grew until it exploded between us.

Afterwards, I felt a bit awkward. Things was a bit strained with me and the younger sister. I think (probably accurately) that something had happened between me and the older sister and she felt left out. But I was also quite awkward around the older sister. I didn’t know what to say to her, I didn’t know what to do. I don’t think I’d fully grasped what had happened, just that it was big. It meant something. But I didn’t know how to articulate that, I didn’t know how to process that. So I didn’t. I avoided.

I remember the next few times we came to visit this family I stayed in the living room with my book or my homework. I stayed with the adults instead of wandering into the spaces I normally would have. And not long after that my dad had an argument with the other family’s dad. Things were said that couldn’t be taken back and we almost always ever saw them again except from a distance at the same sporting events.

I’d heard a terrible thing happened afterwards. The older sister had come out and been open about her sexuality, about her interest in girls. And the neighbourhood she lived in, the school she went to didn’t take kindly to her being different. A few months after she and I laid in bed together whispering and touching, just before school let out for the summer she was walking home and two boys followed her. She was sexually assaulted in a field, on a sunny afternoon, and when she reported the rape to the police she told them that both her attackers had done it to ‘show her what she’d been missing out with men.’

Our families weren’t close but people we knew told us the news. And I overhead the adults talking about it. I remember being shocked to my very core. I definitely didn’t understand then the scope of evil in the world, that boys like this could exist. I thought of this girl, how utterly cool she was, how pretty, how smart and capable and I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone trying to take anything away from her. It broke my heart what had happened to her.

And I think it also had a massive impact on me. I think there was a reason that I was in my 30s before I realised and accepted my own interest in women. Looking back on it, it doesn’t seem so surprising that I’d squash those feelings, that I minimised this experience so much that I had almost forgotten it. It felt safer to pretend like it hadn’t happened, to pretend my own part in the experience. I feel like I didn’t allow myself to be honest even with myself for fear of facing the same hatred and violence.

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Sex Compatibility Quiz

July 3, 2025

sex
I do this thing sometimes. It started off ages ago when I was mostly talking to people online. And I was finding that I was struggling to find what I was looking for. Either in terms of overlapping sexual interests and preferences but also in terms of communication. So the Sex Compatibility Quiz was born.

It’s something that I still use with potential sexual partners. Mostly it comes out when I already have an idea that I’d probably be interested in getting naked with someone and the answers to this question are more for my own curiosity. But I’ll still ask the questions.
There are so many things that I get from the quiz itself. This first question is the main point of the quiz. And what I want from an answer to this is to glean some idea of what sexual interests or preferences they have but also find out the language they use to describe these preferences. I have deliberately kept the first question very vague but I want them to answer in the way they want to answer. Whether that’s short, to the point, or more detailed with examples. Both answers will lean towards my reaction generally.

If they use vague language and skip over words like ‘pussy’ or whatever, then I get a sense of how confident or hesitant they might be. At least in terms of communication. But another aspect of this, the main one perhaps, is finding out how self aware this person is. How well do they know what they themselves enjoy about sex? But also, if they aren’t answering the questions with me in mind, considering how we might be compatible then that gives me a good insight into their interest in me as well.

The second, third and fourth question helps to delve into a person’s past (best experience), present (masturbation), and future (fantasy). I usually read these looking for recurring themes amongst the answers.

I get the most interesting answers from this quiz. Some men will try to tell me they’re really into emotional connection and sensual encounters (because that’s what I’m into!) but when they answer the following questions their favourite experiences included anonymous encounters, they’re fantasising about hot sex with strangers or masturbating over glory holes, for a very extreme example. But it just shows how the answers to 2, 3 and 4 can either confirm their answer to 1 or completely show them up.
1. What are you into?
2. What is your biggest fantasy and why?
3. What has been your best sexual experience and what was it that made it your favourite?
4. What did you think about/watch the last time you masturbated and what was it about it that got you there?
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Spontaneous Sexual Attraction

July 2, 2025

sex

I don’t often have spontaneous sexual attraction to other people. I’m both demisexual and reciprosexual which means that I don’t usually experience sexual attraction to others unless we’ve formed an emotional connection and the other person has expressed a sexual attraction to me.

But on the very, very rare occasion, it has happened before. The only other time I remember having spontaneous sexual attraction clearly is many years ago when I was attending Comic Con in London with my ex and a friend. We were sitting at a table furthest away from the halls where the convention was taking place eating food and talking when a woman wearing a nurse’s outfit started dancing and bending over and playing with the zip along the front of her outfit. I think all three of us (and many more amongst the crowd of people who could see her) was experiencing some sexual attraction in that moment.

But it isn’t a common occurrence for me. Which is why I was very surprised when I was on the train recently and experienced it.

I was getting the train from London back home. The train itself was fairly crowded and I’d walked through several carriages trying to find an empty seat. I remember I passed by a man sleeping where his rucksack was falling off his lap onto the empty seat next to him in order to take an empty seat with a table and three other seats that were occupied. I wasn’t sure if the three of them were together but I asked the older man who had the empty seat next to him if I could sit there and all three people around the table nodded and smiled at me.

Including this gorgeous man who ended up sitting opposite me. I get travel anxiety so I was really pleased to get a seat so I could take some deep breaths and try to relax. I’d had my headphones in and was listening to my soothing music playlist. And I think I relaxed fairly quickly after sitting down.

It was a warm day so after he smiled and nodded at me as I was sitting down, the next thing I noticed about this man was that he’d picked up his Oasis bottle and pressed it against his neck to cool down. He was wearing a thin white button up shirt and the first three or four buttons were undone showing off a slightly muscular chest and some little curls of dark hair. I didn’t want to stare because he was obviously with his wife or girlfriend and I heard him telling her that she could fall asleep if she wanted, he’d make sure they got off at the right stop.

So I started paying attention to other people in the carriage. The older man next to me had been on his phone and when that conversation ended, he left his phone open to his Notes app where he was writing a letter to his parish priest. He had put his phone down in order to retrieve a book from his bag which he opened and read with a pencil hovering under the words he was reading and I was fascinated to find out which words he’d underline and which words he’d skip over.

And as I was watching this older man it was like the Gorgeous Man opposite me was watching me watch the older man. He watched me check out the note on his phone, he watched me check out the title of the book, he watched as I had a half smile on my face as I was wondering about the underlined words. And I think it was that he was looking at me that caught my attention so I looked over at him and caught his eye and he smiled. One of those relaxed, carefree smiles which took over his whole face. One of those smiles that I had to look away from.

Who openly appraises another person on a train like that? I was doing all my looking as subtly as I could, unlike him. And I couldn’t stop. I had noticed that the woman sitting in the window seat on the other side of the train had pulled out a book so I turned my head to see if I could see what the title was. And then the person sitting next to her moved so that her skirt fell off her leg and I could make out an intricate sun tattoo just above her ankle that looked interesting that I wanted to see a little closer. And he watched me do that too. Even turned his head to see what had captured my attention.

He seemed fascinated not in other people but only in me and what I found interesting to look at.

And that was pretty much it. A ridiculously attractive man, with a kind face and an easy smile that welcomed me to sit near him and noticed me. That’s all it takes.

And in all that taking me in I started to wonder what it would be like to kiss this man? to crawl into his lap and have all that attention on touching me, licking me. To have all of his attention on giving me pleasure. How would he react if I pulled his lower lip into my mouth, if I licked along that neck he was trying to cool down earlier, if I slipped my hands along his chest, his back.

I was almost glad that mine was the first stop and when I’d gotten off the train he had already gotten up to find the toilet so there wasn’t any awkward eye contact. Was this one of those missed connections?!

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Scare

July 1, 2025

life

At the beginning of the year I had a gross cold and just as I was feeling that the cold symptoms were starting to clear I got this bad sore throat that meant swallowing was difficult and I was in a lot of discomfort. I couldn’t get through to my GP surgery so I called 111.

In the end, that day I spoke to three different medical professionals. By that evening, I had a prescription for antibiotics and also a recommendation to call my GP after the antibiotics course runs out if my symptoms persist or get worse. And they did. Persist. Get worse. So I called my GP.

And what followed was about 6 weeks of uncertainty, stress, confusion and worry. Based on the symptoms that I’d mentioned (difficulty swallowing for at least 6 weeks and coughing up blood) I was given an urgent referral through the NHS to rule out more ‘serious things’. There was a lot of euphemisms that were bandied about in those 6 weeks but essentially it was to rule out cancer.

Cancer.

God, that’s pretty serious, right? And I pretty much shut down while I was waiting for my appointment. Everything felt overwhelming and I honestly felt like I couldn’t function. I stayed in bed a lot. I listened to music and audiobooks but I couldn’t tell you anything I’d heard when I was doing it.

I had all these awful thoughts. Dramatic thoughts. I’d look at my dog, my perfect, beautiful dog and I’d think what if my dog outlives me? When I started thinking about my family I ended up being paralysed from the thoughts. There wasn’t any kind of depth I could go into with those thoughts. Just a vague what will happen? and darkness followed.

It wasn’t cancer. Tests with a specialist confirmed it, I had a camera in my throat, I did a swallow test. There was nothing unusual or abnormal in any of my results. It ended up being the smallest, stupidest thing – inflammation following a viral infection that went away on its own. I am ridiculously grateful to the NHS and everyone that interacted with me during that period of time for being so patient and kind with me.

But it really took its toll on me. There’s nothing like a cancer scare to really tell you what’s important in life. Who is important. Who shows up for you when you’re crying all day from worry and can’t think or talk about anything else.

For me, it also highlighted the ways in which my life right now don’t really align with the life I want. It feels like such a cliche to be faced with the possibility of death and for it to make you see more clearly what you want from life.

And it’s not too much to ask to want these things, is it?

A clean break from my ex husband. The freedom to make my own choices with my time, my finances. To live in my own space. To have better and renewed relationships with those closest to me. Plans to look forward to. A job that is rewarding and provides purpose. To continue learning and growing. To have an outlet for creativity. To be satisfied in my sexual and emotional connections.

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Questions

June 30, 2025

sex

I am a bit of an overthinker. In my everyday life it can be a bit exhausting in my brain as my thoughts zing off into lots of different directions. I have an anxious attachment style so in relationships I need a lot more reassurance and I deal often with thoughts of insecurity. I have negative thoughts about my body image, my face, and a lot of other worries and concerns.

But! And this is pretty great for me, one of the things I like most about sex is that if I’m with the right person, as in someone who lowers my anxiety and not someone who triggers it, all those overthinking thoughts go away. During sex, I am present in the moment and I’m not bombarded with things I might think when I’m not naked or someone else isn’t touching me. I don’t care if you can see my stretchmarks or that my tummy sticks out. I don’t care about the noises I make during sex or what my O face looks like. I don’t care if my body jiggles and I don’t worry if I’m too heavy to sit on someone’s face. None of those thoughts concern me because during sex? Pleasure is my only thought.

Having said that, I do start to have those thoughts and worries once the orgasm high wears off and also, there are times that I can get thrown out of that ‘in the moment’ mentality. I’ve sometimes brought it up with partners before and I’ve certainly brought it up with my current on/off partner. And that happens when I’m asked questions during sex. It feels like an automatic trigger into overthinking – what’s the right answer here? Does he have a preference? What do I do? What do I say?

I remember the first time he asked me a question during sex. I don’t remember what the question was I just remember my reaction. Which was paralysis. I didn’t know what to say or how to answer so I did nothing. Maybe I started kissing him again and hoped that action would mean he forgot about his question. And then later, when we had clothes on, I brought it up. I said about the overthinking, how I freeze in those sorts of situations. And he understood. He did.

But it was like he wasn’t fully accepting that I should just continue in that way? Because he continues to ask me questions. It’s not every time. But it’s often enough. And I do sometimes freeze and don’t answer. And that’s okay, he doesn’t push it. It’s okay to not answer. But with new questions and some confidence with him I find … I want to answer the questions.

When he asks me what I want I want to be able to tell him I want him to keep kissing me like that, or to pinch my nipples just a little bit or to circle my clit in the way I like. Sometimes I don’t have the words to be that articulate and I don’t mind just saying I want to come and hope for the best that he’s got a good idea for how to get me there. And those things, those things that I tell him I want help me get to the pleasure faster but so does answering the questions. It feels good to me that I can do that.

Some questions are still hard. The last time we met he asked me where I’d like him to come. It was a new challenge for me, he’d not asked me that question before. And it threw me for a minute. My eyes probably went really wide and there was probably a hint of paralysis. But this is new, confident me that can answer questions during sex. So I asked him if he had a preference and he gave me a little smirk before saying he didn’t. ‘Wherever you want it’ handing the ball back into my court. For my answer.

You should have seen his face when I told him my answer. Actually, you should have seen his face and heard the groan of pleasure he did when I said ‘in my mouth it is’ and I guess I’m coming round to the idea that what I want is the right answer.

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Visiting My First Sex Club

June 27, 2025

relationships, sex

One of the things that my ex and I had in common was that we wanted to have more (and a whole range of different) sexual experiences. I don’t quite remember when visiting a sex club was first mentioned but it was definitely an intriguing idea.

I remember looking online for descriptions of sex clubs, what they might be like, trying to get some idea of what might happen at them so I could picture things beforehand. I specifically remember looking at descriptions of local sex clubs and wondering ‘what’s a grope maze and how does that work?’ or looking at pictures uploaded to Instagram wondering ‘…but why is the pole so tall? For what purpose does that serve?’ And I think this just goes to show that I overthink things that are possibly meant to be fun.

We decided that we were going to visit a sex club nearby that had a sort of taster session event on Wednesday evenings. It was worked for our schedules but also it felt like a good beginner event to dip our (nervous) toes into. There was so much nerves beforehand. I went back and forth about what to wear to this thing. In the end I opted for a flippy black skirt over my favourite green lingerie. He met me at work and I drove us both. I remember driving to the club and rubbing my thumb over the grooves on my steering wheel as some way to regulate my emotions.

I had meant to switch my music over to play music from my soothing playlist but I hadn’t and I kept skipping songs as they came on, especially if they didn’t give me the right type of calming tone that I wanted. I can’t remember if it was this time or another time but Self Esteem by The Offspring started playing and I skipped it. My ex said ‘I was just about to say I haven’t heard The Offspring in ages and I guess I still haven’t’ and to this day it still makes me laugh and think of that moment whenever that song is played.

When we got there, it was fairly dead. For the next couple of hours? But I quite liked that it was just us. We were able to explore quite a bit. Every confusing thing in that sex club we ended up at least talking about. I remember the glory holes being confusing in terms of where the holes were and it didn’t make sense but it gave us something to laugh about. I also laughed at the idea of my ex (being very tall) trying to crawl into a cage in the dungeon (was that this club or the other one?).

I don’t really remember much about that night. Most of it is just memories of me and him together, moving from one place to another talking, focusing so much on each other. We spent time in a private room, and when we emerged again more people had arrived. A few single men sitting on the sofas and not making eye contact with others, some couples that might smile at us as they walked past us but didn’t stop to say anything. Maybe we weren’t that social with others that night but if I’m honest, I think I was so addicted to him that it was hard for me to pull myself out of his orbit and pay attention to other people. He was everything. I felt like I was getting a contact high from being around him, being able to have one ongoing conversation with him, touching him. I didn’t need anyone or anything else.

It got to a point that I actually forgot that there were other people at this club with us. Everything about that night seemed like it was just me and him. Some of that was perhaps designed, I don’t remember us walking towards other people but I remember us walking away from them to find a quieter, more secluded place for us to be together. We were in the dungeon, on a bed behind bars when it happened. We were lying on the bed talking and at some point I ended up thinking god, he’s so good looking and it’s impossible how much I adore him.

And somehow we were kissing and it’s getting heated and his head is between my legs and it all feels so good, I’m lost in the feeling of his mouth on me, and I’m lost in him that it’s several moments after my orgasm hits that I remember that we’re in a place where others can see us and in fact there’s a couple sitting just behind the bars watching us. The very second that I realise we have an audience mortification runs through me and I think I shouted something like ‘oh my god, did you know there were people watching us?!’ and it was like somehow, despite it all, he pulled me back into our bubble where it was just me and him again.

I don’t remember a lot of the other details of that night. Someone was doing some sort of rope demonstration in the dungeon but it seemed sort of boring. I remember leaning myself into him at these tall barstools and thinking how nice it was to just press myself against him. I remember when we left the owner/bartender tried to tempt us to stay by telling us about some action in the porn cinema but we both looked at each other and thought nah. It was nice in the car on the way home to talk about everything that had happened, to process our actual experiences against the expectations we both had.

All in all, it was a good first experience.

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