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Sex-iquette

I’ve got a boner to pick with you

Theres something boys do which really riles me. I’m sure we’ve all experienced this. You’re giving him a BJ, you’re just getting you’re mojo, and the mofo grabs the back of your head and starts pushing you up and down. Mate. If i’m giving you a blowie, i’ve got a plan, I’ve got a ryhthm. This all involves a system and let’s face it, no one can’t go that hard for 15 minutes straight. If you grab my head and start “guiding” me, the quality of the blowie you are receiving has just dropped by 80%. I wouldn’t mash your face into my lady business and expect you to do a good job, and even if I could, I wouldn’t pound surprise rods down your throat while you’re trying to do something nice for me.

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FACK As Fuck

I don’t mean to generalise, but I will. There is something seemingly lacking in every boy that I meet. I have my four core desirable characteristics: Funny, Attractive, Clever, and Kind (FACK). You can’t have all four. Sometimes you find a boy with three out of the four, sometimes you settle for one with two.

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Tinder in the City of Love, Ooh La La

Armed with the chat up line “Ici pour bonnes temps, pas longtemps” I took to French Tinder on my first trip to Paris in February. For those of you who don’t speak French, that says “Here for a good time, not a long time”. It is a line inspired by the Canadian who I thought I was exclusive with until my pal found him on Tinder with this very smooth line. Anyway, bad “ex’s” aside, it got me a superlike. Nice. This Superliker, Pierre, spent the next 2 months chatting me up via facebook, apparently desperate for me to come back to Paris so we could meet. Well, his wishes were answered because I love Paris and I LOVE my best friend Céline who is studying for her Masters there.

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Up-Date on The Date

Ok I take it all back, there’s more to Fabio than met my eye on our first date. I wasn’t expecting much from date number two, but I was pleasantly surprised. Here’s a little play-by-play of our date:

So i’m driving to his house to pick him up for bowling. I’m wearing skfart1.jpgin tight black jeans with a skin tight black top and…. I need to fart. My pre-date logic says, fart-away, having that gas in my tum is only gonna bloat it out into what I call, The Front-Bum (I hope I’m not the only one to experience this). In any case, more farting = flatter tummy.

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Dating since Tinder

But, dates don’t lead to relationships, do they?

I had a shocking realisation last week, whilst listening to a radio feature about dating. The DJ introduced the topic, “last week we talked about the end of relationships, breakups, so this week, we’re talking about the start of relationships: first dates” I snorted, how ridiculous to suggest that a first date would lead anywhere. Its 2016 and we don’t live in a rom-com. But as I came out of my cynical, seasoned single twenty-something stupor, I realised, she was right, at the start of all relationships, there has to be a first date. But surely I can’t be the only person who’s constantly going on first dates yet not finding constant relationship offers?

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Breaking the Ten Commandments: What happens when you don’t listen in Sunday School

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One of my favorite ally’s in the world of single, Blake, responds to my post The Ten Commandments of Being Single:

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Why do we love the bad boys?

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I’m losing count of the amount of times in my life that I have become besotted with boys who really don’t care about me at all. I think we are all guilty of falling for and putting up with these boys for far too long. I’ve been ignored and then told off like a naughty child by the boy I was seeing but forgave him instantly because he came round with a free sachet of hot chocolate. I let the same boy keep me at arms length for a whole term at university because he “didn’t know what he wanted” whilst telling me he loved me as he orgasmed. I continued seeing a boy after a friend found him on Tinder, despite a conversation where we both expressed that we didn’t have Tinder, because he called me “beautiful” about once a month. I let him use me as a taxi service because he was so cute with my dog. I walked down a terrifying canal tow-path to his house (boat) alone, even after I asked him to escort me, because he was going to cook us dinner and couldn’t leave the oven on, yet when I got there he hadn’t even started cooking the Tesco-own sauce-from-a-jar carbonara. I let a boy who I clearly had fallen for use me for sex for half a year because he told me he had shown my Facebook page to his friends (that means he’s proud of me right?), yet when I suggested we go on a date he said “yeah we could go for a coke in the park”.

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The Ten Commandments Of Being Single

download1) Thou shall always make yourself sexy

The temptation is to grow your leg hairs into an insulating forrest and pop on your comfy, sensible, discoloured chastity belt (knickers). Although I advocate this as a very effective cock-block, it is not an every day solution to single life. These knickers should only be worn when you are actively (not passively) avoiding sex, i.e. hot first date with someone you want to continue seeing and therefore can’t sleep with immediately (gutted). The thought of exposing your overgrown lady garden and the granny-pants that confine it will ensure you are more virginal than Mary herself.
So with this as your only exception, it is important to keep yourself sexy at all times. Even if no one is going to feel those silky legs or see that smoking matching underwear, I never feel more confident and desirable than when I know I look as good under my clothes, as I do on top. Not to mention if you do get lucky, you are totally prepared. Just try this, next time you are getting ready for a night out: don’t skip the exfoliation, shaving and moisturising sesh, put on your best underwear and check yourself out in the mirror before you get dressed. I guarantee it’s a bigger confidence boost than most guys could ever give you.

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How to survive a blind date that you wish you were blind for

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Last night I went on a blind date with someone who I already knew I didn’t fancy. Ok so it wasn’t technically a blind date, I had met him for about five minutes in a pub a couple of weekends ago. My friend Jen was seeing his best friend, James, and had gone over to the group of boys, asked who was single, and who fancied me. Nate answered yes to both, and my fate was set. Jen gave him my number and me my marching orders: “be nice to him, you can’t show me up” and a list of questions “does James like me, does he date many girls, is he seeing anyone else” and so on.
Detective Alexa to the rescue.

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