Oh, that Kirstie. She does talk some crap. True fact: I once emailed a woman’s mag and moaned about how, in an article on ‘The Perfect Christmas’ she’d suggested that it was a good idea to keep £60 (£60!) Urban Outfitters vouchers in a drawer in case guests with teenage children dropped in unexpectedly and you needed emergency gifts. She was, I wrote, completely out of touch with the real world. They never emailed back.
Twitter is having a moment. It feels like *everyone* is talking about bitchiness, or trolling. Not just the sex/relationship bloggers either, but more widely than that – beauty bloggers, lifestyle columnists…
I’ve witnessed a bit of it, but nothing like on the scale it’s apparently happening. I don’t really get nasty tweets, or cruel emails, but other bloggers clearly do – Laurie at MyPOTL wrote this this week on the subject.
I should’ve known this was going to be a shit week. On Friday night, I left the office and promptly burst into tears because I’d missed a deadline and let the designer down (in my defence, the designer is *hot*). Then, I went to M&S and bought steak, which was the only thing I wanted for dinner – something which only happens when my body is screaming for iron. I got home and my period had started. Obviously.
I had a blog post all lined up to write this evening, and then I came across this article on Twitter, all about consent and boundaries, and it struck a chord with me to the point that I wanted to write about it straight away.
There are two parts of the article that I found particularly interesting. The first is the bit that says:
‘Ask the people you will be having sex with what their preferences and limits are. This fosters active consent and encourages communication.’
I was just getting to thinking that Juniper from the The Cut of My Jib and I shared similar views on quite a few things when she posted her To Do List for 2014 (admittedly this was at the beginning of the month, I’m late, as usual). I should’ve known from the first few items on the list that it wasn’t going to contain the kind of goals that I would ever set – 30 days of continuous exercise? Ben Nevis? Yep, that’s a no from me.
However, further down it begins to look a bit more promising again. She has a separate list for sex, which is always a good sign, intends to write fiction, and to drive more (personally, I could probably do with driving a little more nervously.) And then there’s the killer: ‘Learn to take kit off in seductive manner.’
Oh, Juniper. How could you do such a massive disservice to womankind? Isn’t it hard enough trying to find an outfit you look hot in, shoes you can walk in, and two halves of a matching set of underwear that are clean and dry at the same time?
I fully buy into the concept of getting dressed in order to get naked, and I’m happy to put the work in there. I’m ritualistic about having at least an hour prior to the boy coming over when I can have a bath, dry my hair properly, do my make up and have my first glass of wine while wandering around in my underwear. I usually also bother to make the bed, tidy up (a bit), and just generally enjoy the sense of anticipation building.
But do I put the same effort in when I’m doing it in reverse? Er, no, far from it. I think the boy is partly to blame for this – neither of us are very good at calmly moving the action to the bedroom and attempting to seduce – often I don’t think we’d even make it as far as the bedroom if it wasn’t for my overwhelming desire to be underneath him at some point. It’s lucky that I prefer hold ups to tights for sex – on the few occasions I have worn tights they’re generally hanging off one ankle as I recover from my orgasm.
I much prefer it that way – I’d hate to be the centre of attention and have him just lie back on the bed and watch as I attempt to shed garment after garment like a high-class stripper. I might be sexy, but I’m sure as hell not seductive – I still haven’t mastered the art of putting clothes on without covering them in deodorant. I have a friend who once expressed surprise that I keep my jewellery on during sex – I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the same is often true of my cardigan.
In fact, as far as I can tell, there’s only one downside to being unwilling to learn to undress seductively. That matching underwear I always bother to track down? It could be peach on the top half and mint on the bottom for all he cares …
I meant to start November by writing about NaNoWriMo (or writing for NaNoWriMo, at least), but instead I’ve decided to write about something I watched over three weeks ago, which bothered me at the time and which has continued to bother me more and more as the weeks have passed. That thing is Channel 4’s documentary Diary of a Teen Virgin.