Imagine life is a video game called Emotional Development. Sure, the title ain’t snappy, but the graphics are great. In this game, you play out romantic entanglements. You can only ‘level up’ when you’ve grown positively from your experiences. Think of G4RL as the online instruction manual. People refuse to read it and wonder why they’ve been left on read by Brad at Level Two.
All the single ladies (now put your developed sense of self-worth up!)
Welcome back to G4RL’s collaborative posts and ‘A Tale of Two Gals’. Allow me to introduce my true pal, Sophie. She’s an arts marketer and the UK Vice-Chair of the Society of Young Publishers. You can find her over on Twitter, where she supports aspiring publishing professionals and makes more than a few wise cracks.
Birds do it, bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. Let’s do it. Let’s move in together to secure greater financial freedom in a housing market crisis. Moving in with your partner can be a joyous step in an intimate relationship. It can also be a terrible mistake. So how do you know which way the rental cookie will crumble? Lucky I’m here, eh?
I didn’t start having good sex until my early twenties. I lost my virginity at sixteen, complying with government legislation on the matter. I’d wrongly been led to believe that if I consensually did the sex before my sweet sixteenth, a police squad accompanied by a Channel 4 film crew would burst through my door. I’d be behind bars, watching myself star in the fictional documentary “Britain’s Teens: Young, Dumb and Full of Cum”, probably narrated by Dr Christian Jessen.
Some kids on the World Wide Web refer to the number of sexual partners a person has had as their “body count”. When I discovered this, I wanted to delete today’s blog and just publish this sentence instead: the only time a body count is relevant is if somebody has died. Then I could have logged off, sipped on a sweet Rubicon and spent the rest of my afternoon watching Frasier instead.
Once upon a time, a man turned to me after sex, looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Y’know Nikki, you should really get a boyfriend”. It was late, but I told him I’d see what I could forage from the dumpster in the morning. Prince Charming’s throwaway statement reveals so much about how we view sexually liberated, content, unattached women. I didn’t want to be this man’s girlfriend. I didn’t want to be any man’s girlfriend. I wanted to be single.