Broken heart shaped cookie on pink background. Photo.

Am I a bad person if I feel ok after a break up? I asked myself that question again and again after I broke up with my enboifriend, not realising that actually I wasn’t ok at all. I’d been expecting to fall apart, to physically ache with the pain of missing them. I wasn’t expecting to feel numb, to feel nothing. I wasn’t expecting to feel relief.Read More →

I had another post planned for today. It was Vaginismus Awareness Day yesterday, and season three of Netflix’s Sex Education comes out tomorrow, so I was going to write about how the show’s vaginismus plot-line has made so many people with vaginismus feel seen, but made me feel more broken. It would have been clever and timely and good. Instead I fell apart in public and cried while clutching my laptop to my chest. Instead I wrote this.Read More →

A pretty young afab person with round glasses and full lips wears a rainbow turban and a red shirt. They are smiling against a white wall. Photo.

When they go low, we monetise our pain. I said it a friend back in November: when they go low, we invest in ourselves and get paid to write about the things they hate about us. I meant it as a joke, but for all else 2020 has been it’s been the year when I stepped into my trans identity and I’m really fucking proud of that.Read More →

An afab person kneels in front of the camera, their shirt pulled up enough to offer a view of their ass and a tuft of pubes between their legs. Photo.

There’s a guy I like. A guy I haven’t fucked but who I’ve dreamed about fucking. A guy who I’ve wanked over but who I don’t really know. A guy who I want to know, because I wanted to be his friend years ago and I still want to be his friend now – it’s just that now I want to be his friend and suck his dick. But I’m not always honest when I text him, because it’s way easier to send him nudes than be vulnerable or (god forbid) needy.Read More →