All the butterflies are dead

For the first time in a long time … Not a fuck buddy, or a fling, dating that goes nowhere or a string of messages that peter out because we have run out of inconsequential nothings to talk about and the effort of being witty is just all too much to be bothered with. I... Continue Reading →

A metaphor for wilting flowers

I wasn’t going to write about you anymore. I wasn’t going to give you the time. But my thoughts are full and overflowing and I need to make space for new things, new pathways, new experiences, new connections. I need to eradicate the memory of a thousand conversations, the feel of your body and the... Continue Reading →

The heavy weight of words unsaid

A tangle of limbs on my bed. Our breath, that had been coming fast and hard, gradually slows. The skin on the underside of his bicep was smooth against my cheek, my hand thrown across his chest.  It had been so long since we’d seen each other and while the sex felt the same, everything... Continue Reading →

The subtle art of knowing everything is fucked

I usually leave book reviews for my book club meetings but I’m going to make an exception for Mark Manson’s follow up to The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck, aptly titled Everything is Fucked. I’m about two-thirds through but something I read has cut to my core and I can’t seem to get... Continue Reading →

The married man’s right of reply

He wrote this as a right of reply to my previous post. I've made one minor edit to remove an irrelevant reference to a mutual couple we know: It ended all too soon. Of course, I can understand why it did, why in fact it had too. I am not the sharpest implement at times,... Continue Reading →

How I ended my affair in a spectacularly predictable way

We always get exactly what we deserve. Last night I got what I deserved. It was eight months in the making and the moment I had feared since the day he told me he was married. I wrote him a letter. I told him I was in love with him. The consequences of doing this... Continue Reading →

How I became an accidental sex therapist

Like many of us, I am often better at giving advice than following it and this week I’ve once again found myself in the position of dirty Dr Phil. I received a message on Plenty of Fish from a married man looking to chat. I politely declined his request at first, citing that fact that... Continue Reading →

How I lost my way. Again

I think about you more than I should. I know it’s dangerous territory to be playing in but I can’t seem to help myself. Our time together is finite and I know it will likely end sooner than I would have it. But when you left me this last time, to return to your family,... Continue Reading →

Two is company, three is a cliché

His hand on my leg. Mine caressing her thigh. Our drinks on the side of the spa. “Are we all good?” he asked. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said and leaned in to kiss me. He came in close to watch us. Her hands were touching my body, exploring. He was pressed into me from behind,... Continue Reading →

Sniffing around for sext

It was almost 24 hours to the minute since I ended it with Jake and it started. Random, unsolicited messages from men I hadn’t spoken to in months began to appear in my inbox. Friend requests from men I’d chatted to for maybe a week once on Tinder. Men who I was into once upon... Continue Reading →

The elephant that came too soon

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, the one who came too soon and, get down on the record once and for all, that premature ejaculation is never the woman’s fault. Sure, our feminine wiles and bodily charms might contribute to you blowing your load before I’ve had the chance to part my legs.... Continue Reading →

Game of cat and married

He and I have been chatting for three months. He is married and should know better. Don’t be like him. And don’t be like me. It wasn’t my intention to chat to a married man after the disasters of a couple of years ago. Lies, affairs, secrets, bruises – of a physical and mental nature.... Continue Reading →

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