The Last Sex – and how it will make me come now

My pants are off before he gets there. I’m on the bed and half asleep, half watching TV.

In less than 4 minutes I have even less clothes on but he is still almost fully clothed. His jeans are open, his cock is out. He is standing behind me and I am on all fours facing away from him. He has a condom on and I think he’s going to put two fingers in and then give me his cock.

Of course I’m wrong. I partly knew I would be.

The bed is a hotel bed, it’s high, the perfect height probably. He has his hands on my hips, gripping me but caressing me. I want him in me but he’s not moving.

“Ask for it. Tell me you want my cock”

…….

“Ask, for it” he says again, calmer, even more resolve in his tone. But I know he’ll have to make me. I push back a little, trying to see if I can catch the tip of it. I can’t. He holds me in place.

Please – I know I barely whisper.

“Oh I think you’ll need to do better than that” again he says with a menacing calm that makes my cunt ache with want. I look back at him over my shoulder, through my hair. And again I squeeze out an agonised, the very littlest please that I can manage.

“Say it again, louder” and one of his hands moves from my hip to slide up my back, pushing me forward into the bed. My arse up, ready for him. I can’t take it, I need to feel him push his cock inside me. He’s won. I squirm under him and eventually it escapes my lips; Oh god please, please give it to me. I am angry saying the words, defiant. But we both know he’s won and I’ve gotten what I wanted.

He’s not a masochist or a machine, how much longer was he going to be able to stand there with a primed cock and my glistening, swollen pussy inches from him. So he pushes into me, measured, controlled, rhythmic and satisfying. And I buck back against him so relieved to be filled.

 

I love this dance. I hate asking for anything, I hate being made to wait and I love this torture when someone can meter it out like that.

All day long I have thought about how he made me beg for it. How excruciatingly delicious those few moments were. Just imagining his calm voice, the menace, imagined or real, that lies in its softness.  I have played this in my head all day and this little vignette is what is going to help me come in about 40 seconds. It can’t be faked, it can’t be manufactured; you either have the ability to make me feel it or you don’t.

He has it.

Not OkC ….

I am struggling this week, I really am. I’m struggling for time and for sleep and for some divine patience. I hope I can get this written tonight because I’m losing enthusiasm for staying on OkCupid.

Jesus what a load of work? Ok, in case you don’t know what it is, it’s a dating site that then developed an App – a sure fire way to get to the tipping point. Anyway, it’s a bit more detailed than Tinder and you have to answer a lot and I mean a lot of questions. But that’s actually one of the more enjoyable things – if any of the guys contacting me asked me any of them I’d have been delighted.

Even now as I type my attention is being pulled away by yet more rubbish openers. This piece will be lucky if it gets finished at all!

 

 

Ok. So I’ve been single since May. Except for those 5 weeks when I was seeing someone I met on OkC there in July. Anyway, the point is, I am single and this is my second choice for relationship status. But I’m no slouch, I’m not sitting around doing feck all about it or crying into my prosecco. No siree, I am a gal about town and I am also a gal about … the smartphone (not as catchy as I thought?) The point is, I am out there and I am present on social media and apps. Although I did delete Tinder as all the dates were pretty much useless you can read about them here but I wouldn’t they don’t involve very much sex, and certainly no hot sex.

But I gave it a good go.

I also meet people when I’m out and about, I give them a fighting chance too. But so far no luck.

 

So the most fruitful of the dating technologies so far has been OkC. I’ve been on 5 dates and only slept with one of them – the guy I was seeing for 5 weeks. (please note I did not wait 5 weeks)

But oh my holy god am I sick to my back teeth with it.

I am sick of the effort and the sheer mountains of SHIT that I have to wade through.

I’m not the first to talk about this, the far sharper and wittier GoTN wrote about it here – I’m just going to go and agree with her, and tell you my experiences.

 

The site gives you a little intro page (what are you looking for, where are you in your life, what music/food are you into), then has a details page (basically your stats; height, fitness, religion, smoking/drinking habits, desire for kids) and then the list of questions that you’ve answered. If you like the look of someone, you can take a look at their answers to the questions you also answered, with your responses helpfully lined up alongside. This is very, very interesting in and of itself. And I have wasted hours, hours of the day flicking through this.

It is also invaluable. Just today, and I really don’t know why I did, I answered a guy who sent me a message, to tell him I had no interest. Usually I just delete them, but as I said I don’t know why I did. BUT…. I think it was cos I was disgusted and … probably in a challenging mood.

When someone messages me, I take a flick through their profile, it’s the only courteous thing to do. And while his pictures were all very good, his stats even better it was when I came to his questions that I found my deal breaker. Not long into them there was the question: Do you think gay marriage should be legal. Now for one, it’s not GAY marriage, it’s MARRIAGE, the question should be ‘Do you believe in marriage equality for all sexual orientations’ – but that’s asking too much, I know. No prizes for guessing where I sit on this matter. I responded to him with a curt ‘You don’t believe gay marriage should be legal? I’m afraid we have no more to say to each other’.

But I forgot to block him after I sent it. And what a treat I was in for! A pathetic, trite, last-bastion-of-the-have-no-leg-to-stand-on Brigade, you can probably guess it: ‘Some of my best friends are gay’!

Oh how I laughed. And was delighted I hadn’t blocked him. ‘But some things are sacred’ he continued and how closed minded I am to not respect other people’s views. I am nearly on the floor laughing at this. Yes, how DISRESPECTUFL of me!! Yeah dude, I’m sure your gay friends love you and respect your views on wanting to deny them their civil rights.

(It’s ok, I’ve blocked him)

 

Now that interaction was kind of amusing but what am I doing wasting my time with this?? Why do I bother?

And that wasn’t even the rudest I was this week. My one and only message to one guy was a succinct ‘Fuck off’. And I’ve weirdly felt guilty about it all week.

 

I have just one picture up on the site. It’s a nice head shot. I’m not awful looking so it gets its fair share of messages, but not tonnes. Even still the amount of sheer fucking depressing rubbish I get sent has made me relegate the app to the 5th page of my phone screen and I have all notifications deactivated. I can’t cope with the awfulness. From trite old ‘How’re ya’s to the insulting show me your arse requests.

It’s exhausting, and it does not endear me to dating. Which is a crying shame cos I’m good at it and I love guys.

 

So guys here are my top tips for how to get 500% more responses from girls. But before I do, let me just say that while I know there are no absolutes in this world I am absolutely sure that there are things that girls and most definitely that I do that are infuriating to men on OkC …. I don’t know what they are because otherwise I’d stop wouldn’t I? So I’m not claiming to be a profile or communication angel. But I don’t do any of the following.

 

It’s actually a question guys, why do you think that a ‘Hey’ will garner a response? It won’t. Neither will, smiley face, winky face or ‘Hey Gorgeous’. But I’m not so unhelpful as to not explain why.

Internet dating is hard, and it’s a bit brutal, if you’re a girl you have a load of guys coming at you. It’s not always pleasant. You want to think that they clicked on you, read at least a bit of your profile and thought you might be interesting. We’re not stupid, we know you’re clicking and liking on loads of others but we don’t want to feel like you’re just out there throwing as much shit as you can (whereby shit refers to ‘Hi winky face’) and seeing what will stick. So even if you couldn’t give two fucks, and you are just throwing as much shit out there to see what sticks, if any of that shit actually referred back to anything we mentioned in the profile then you are automatically way ahead of everyone else. You really are. You know why? Because we know you slowed down for two seconds and thought that maybe wewere worth two seconds of your time. That we stood out maybe? Even if we didn’t – this is how you fake that we did.

And really guys, it’s just smart. You have ALL this information to hand, it’s ammunition, piles of it, handed to you on a plate, a full arsenal of things to help you score and yet 99% of you never even touch it?

Why?

I really cannot fathom it.

Imagine you were out in a bar and you saw someone you really liked, and then one of your friends was able to tell you loads of cool things about them. Are you still just going to walk up and say ‘Hey, so, do you like…. Stuff’.

 

I can tell you that from me approaching guys, I get 100% response rate when I ask them something they’ve mentioned in their profile.

 

 

I’m not sure why it makes me feel so sad for the state of communication that goes on in dating – but it does.

 

I’m going to be a bit more polite, no more telling guys (who incidentally asked me to show him my underwear as an opener) to fuck off. Or engaging with idiots who can’t comprehend civil rights – or the law in Ireland (you must have been sick when the Yes vote was passed, homophobic hot dude) and I will struggle on because I am not bitter and I am not unhopeful. I’m sure a gem will turn up soon, somewhere. And I can get back to writing about some hot steamy, filthy sex!

 

 

If any guys out there would like to share the ridiculous and obvious (to you) ways that girls are failing at tech dating – please, please tell me.

No Chance of Getting Sponsored After This Piece of Honesty

We don’t all like the same things. Everyone knows that, but we don’t always remember it when we’re trying to understand why people don’t like the things we happen to love.

We know this and yet we are still amazed.

I’ll go first yeah? I hate, like can’t abide and do not understand the appeal of cinnamon. God I hate it. I also cannot fathom why any girl would not want to kiss a guy after he’s gone down on her. It’s the best taste. Honestly why would you not want to taste yourself, we taste great! I also cannot fathom anyone not liking blowjobs – ok, I can kinda believe it, dicks are scary and something stuffed in your mouth can be daunting. I do get it but I still struggle with it because in the universe it is one of my most enjoyable activities.

You might even want to shout at me about this next one and my utter aversion to it. I can’t stand the thought of a facial. I just don’t want someone to come in my face. To jerk off and finish on my face. Something about it is just the wrong side of derogatory for me. I know people are into it, I read that they are but I cannot tell you that I know one girl personally that does. This is not me judging anyone that loves to be super soaked, it’s just one simple example of something I can’t get on board with. But I’m very sure that loads of people feel that way about spanking or throat fucking – other things which I happen to love (with the right person, of course)

We’re all different. I’d do well to remember that.

 

So here’s the big thing that I don’t like – and while I can conceive that people would like it, it just feels a bit like the Emperor’s New Clothes; i.e. do people really enjoy this as much as they say they do? Are they actually getting that much pleasure from it….?

But what the fuck do I know, sure I can’t believe that people rave about McDonalds.

 

Jesus Abbi get to it would you.

It’s vibrators. I don’t like them, I don’t enjoy them and I don’t know what the fuss is about. So there, right out the window goes my hope of ever having this blog sponsored! (and rest assured that I do dream of getting sponsored so I can write all day and be Abbi a hell of lot more than I get to right now)

 

I have owned several (still own several) and none of them are worth the hassle of even pulling them out from under the bed.

 

Oh but Abbi maybe you don’t have a good one? A quality one?

I do.

But have you tried – The Doxy? Ooh the Rolls Royce of vibrators…?

Um … yes and it’s very nice on the knot on my shoulder. But anywhere else feels rubbish. Although I have yet to try it out on my tight calves? That might be nice..?

 

 

Of course it’s totally possible that I’m using them wrong. I don’t think I am though. But I’m open to guidance should anyone feel like sending it.

The issue isn’t that it’s something other than a human body part going into me, I have some dildos that I love and a very lovely and large butt plug that for some reason I really enjoy in my pussy. I think it’s that fundamentally I don’t enjoy the sensation of the vibrations so I can’t see any of them working for me.

The sensation isn’t anything that I enjoy, and  it gives me a weird sort of fake orgasm that I like even less. I’ll try to explain that; I feel it’s like one of those electro stimulators for cattle, you know the ones where they shock them and they immediately ejaculate? That’s what it reminds of. Not at all sexy, right?

 

It feels like a fake orgasm, it doesn’t feel real. But most of all it’s just so – unsatisfying. Wholly unnourishing and relieving. Nothing at all like a real orgasm, like a proper climax. And afterwards I don’t feel sated, I feel cheated and agitated. And that’s fine, there are other ways to get off. I don’t have to use them. No one is forcing me or telling me I’m denying the industry my allegiance… but I kind of feel like the only one. The only girl who feels  like this…..

I can’t relate to the stories that others have about how vibrators have made their bodies do incredible, unimaginable things? I’m sure they’re not lying but are they exaggerating?

Again it doesn’t matter, I’m sure they are life altering for someone who’s maybe never had an orgasm.

But if you’re out there and vibrators don’t work for you, well you’re not alone. They don’t work for me either. So don’t bother with an expensive wand, don’t fork out the money. If you’ve tried any kind of vibrator; from an over priced Ann Summers one to a cheapo Durex cock ring, and for whatever reason that buzzing sensation wasn’t for you? Then let me save you the money and don’t fork out for an expensive massaging wand – it’s really no different. Except for the fact that it doesn’t actually get inserted into you.

 

 

I don’t want anyone coming away from reading this thinking ‘ABBI HATES TOYS’ Abbi does not hate toys. I love them, I have a succinct collection I just happen to have a preference for the non-power assisted ones. The floggers, the rope, the cuffs, the dildos, the blindfolds, the plugs …..

These are way more fun for me.

Some Hot Dirty (Literally) Sex That I Nearly Had

I had two conversations today. Both led back to the same person. The star of this blog and the nemesis of all future beaus. (not really guys, relax I swear he’s human).

I was talking to a guy about waxing and he declared that he’d only do it if someone was going to appreciate the efforts. That if he did get everything waxed down there that he knew he would immediately want a blow job. I concurred, in fact, I revealed there’s been a few boys of my past who only got lucky with me because I’d been waxed and I wanted my new ‘hairdo’ to be appreciated.

The Cop was one of these boys.

Sometimes it has happened because I’ve just gotten waxed and the very act of getting waxed now turns me on and other times it’s happened because I’ve gotten waxed for a particular person and an occasion – and they have let me down.

And I have never been so glad to have been disappointed for what fortuitous circumstances were then brought upon me.

 

As mentioned, I had been let down by someone. They had cancelled on me .But I’m pretty sure they rued that day so we won’t think too unkindly of them. So instead of being where I should have been, I was elsewhere.

I initially was not open to the advances of The Cop. But he was polite and patient (God, the things you could extract from me if you have opportunity to display manners). So he held my attention. I kept listening and I don’t know what air I gave off or what line I spouted that gave him the mandate or courage to start his deal sealing story. The story of how he first got pegged. It wasn’t just his brazenness but it was his way in telling it, he wasn’t showing off and he wasn’t crude. It was just a story, told just to me, just because he sensed I might enjoy it.

I did.

Half way through when I had said nothing in response he asked if he should continue. I was enthralled, of course I wanted him to continue. But maybe he thought I was shocked. Not this cailín. Not with those words, not with that telling. I was ridiculously aroused.

 

So we kept chatting, I was sure I was taking him home. I had to know. What was it about this guy? What was it he had that kept my attention (after he told me he was a cop and I nearly walked out). Well I’m pretty sure the waxed pussy made the decision for me.

So, are we going back to your place?

I hesitated, I’m not sure why and then I said yes, fuck it, let’s go. Swiftly followed by ‘Wait. No. Hang on’. And he sat back down beside me, just a little closer.

I brushed my hair back behind my ear, I know I was nervous, hoping that he’d guess what I meant. He did, and he met me half way for the kiss.

Perfect. The chemistry was there. Cher was not lying.

 

We got in his car and drove the short hop down the canal to my house. One of the most electrically charged drives I’ve ever had. There was no point pretending, I reached for his cock as he drove and was not disappointed – he was iron bar hard the whole way. He used to be a cop in my area, I didn’t need to give him directions, he knew where to go.

 

But after that..? I can’t remember what we did. I have no recollection. I just remember that two days later I got a text from him saying ‘With very little exception I will do anything you want. Anything’. Those words have never been said before or since by anyone else. They had a profound affect and were the benchmark for our time together.

 

He never lived in Dublin when I knew him so all our encounters were meticulously planned trysts; hotelscastlesmy workplace, rooftop serviced apartment, and my house. High octane and high expectations that incredibly were always not just met but surpassed. I sometimes read the stories and I can’t believe them myself. But they happened just as I’ve said.

He currently lives in a different country and we keep in touch. He sends me super polite enquiries in to how I am, which slay me. Followed by elaborate dick pics of the hard-ons he promises I give him from my responses.But he’s home soon. He’s home this week in fact. And lo and behold where will he be? Dublin’s fair city. But where will I be? Scotland.A country I’ve wanted to visit for years. I’ve shamefully never been, even when I lived in the UK I never made it to Scotland and now, when I have a trip planned and booked and longed for? I’m now wishing I was going to be here.

But this is my interpretation of what would have happened if I was going to be in Dublin this weekend…

 

A Could Have Been True, But Sadly Isn’t Fairy Tale of The Cop and the Unicorn Girl.

 

(this next bit is so fucking Irish I can barely believe it.)

So he’s home from abroad, probably flying into Shannon, of course. But there is a big GAA game on. I’ll assume it’s Kerry I don’t know, I know fuck all about GAA and lack of inclination will see me fail to bother Googling it. I know it’s a big game cos it’s on in Dublin. He sends a message to tell me that he will be in Croke Park on Sunday. And so with a legitimate excuse to be here he will lose his companions and come see me for a few hours after the game. Well if you had the choice of either continuing a day’s drinking or getting two hours with the best sex of your life, what would you choose?

I am devastated at this news. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

The plan he then teases me with, is thus; he only planned on fulfilling one of my fantasies of simply showing up at my door. I have always told him that I dream of that; to just be surprised by a sex visit. Sure, I’d freak out cos I’m likely to be at home wearing underwear and toast crumbs writing or just lying on the Sunday papers – the point is I could be looking like shit and totally not ready for sexy time. A situation that would not be conducive to getting any sexy time. Except with him. I know, I truly know with every fibre of my being that he wouldn’t give a toss what I looked like, that he would just want me. A belief that I haven’t been able to feel with many.

I think he’d let me protest and freak out for a few seconds, all polite and calm as he is but he’d pull me in, kiss me and then get me on my knees.

He’d be hard already, I have no doubt, he’d sweep my shitty, messy bed hair back and guide my face towards his cock. He’d hold it there, jeans not open, knowing that the sight of his bulging erection would conversely calm me from my distress of how I looked and arouse me to not caring about it. Still holding my head gently by my hair, he’d open his jeans with the other hand, button by button, making sure I can see but not letting me touch it. And when he finally lets it spring out, I reach for it with a hungry mouth and ready tongue – he pulls me back one more time, so that I’m looking up at him, angry, wanting and then he lets go of my hair and I smirk at him and slowly envelope his magnificent cock with my mouth for the first time in months. I can hear the noise he makes, it’s relief but he hasn’t let go. He’s got too much self-control and he’s not done with me yet. He wants to give me what I want – which is, torture.

He puts his hands back in my fucked up hair and he pushes his cock deep into me until I gag, getting spit all down his cock and dripping down my chin and onto my tits. And then abruptly, as if he’s afraid he’d lose control, he stops. Pulls me up from my knees and looks me straight in the face then takes one long lick up my chin to my ear and whispers ‘Turn around and bend over, I want to see that perfect cunt of yours, and it better be as wet as I think it is’. I bend over the couch (that’s where we are in this fairytale, just for context) and he pushes me further over it, holding me there as he grabs me between the legs with his other hand, feeling how wet I am through my knickers. He then slides them down but doesn’t take them all the way off. I don’t know why this always feels dirtier to me but it does. He kicks my feet apart as far as they’ll go while bound at the knees by my underwear and makes an appreciative noise. Then he licks his fingers and pushes two fingers in to me, slowly deeply. He holds me down so I can’t squirm but I can barely take it, I push back onto his fingers wanting to be filled. As soon as I do that though he pulls out, he loves taking things away from me and he bends down and starts tonguing where his fingers just were. I start protesting saying I haven’t had a shower, he tells me to shut up and taste how good I am and kisses me. But then it’s back to my knees again and he has his cock down my throat, making those fantastic sounds and once again telling me how much he missed my mouth. And I moan and gag as he thrusts into my mouth and holds me there. Then lets go and lets me hold it and lick it, sucking on it and then swallowing it all again. And that’s about as much as either of us can take. He pulls me up, swings me round and bends me back over the couch and without warning has his cock plunged into my swollen, aching cunt. I cry out, I know I do. He’s big and as much as he’s gotten me wet I haven’t had his size in, well, since him.  But it’s a great pain, the very best and he could split me in two and I would still cry out for him to carry on.

He’ll finish me with his fingers as he’s fucking me, slowing down to torture me as I beg for him to keep fucking me but he won’t until I’ve come for him. His dick solid inside me, his fingers delicately working my clit. And then I come clenching onto him and begging him to start up fucking me harder again.

He’ll plan to pull out and finish in my mouth, but he won’t. He’ll finish inside me as I urge him to fuck me harder and faster. Like I always do.

 

Then we’ll finally say hello and I’ll skip off for a shower and we’ll try and get more filthy before he has to leave.

 

The End.

 

Or something close to that

Guest Piece: A Waxed Boy!

God, the huge sigh of satisfied relief and excitement I got when I read this piece.

I know this isn’t the vanguard of feminism or the quest for parity but for me… all I want* is for some guy to have gone to the same lengths that I have with regards to depilation. I just want to see the same effort made. I regularly go and pay (usually) a small woman to rip my pubic hair out by the root. I have this removed from everywhere – including my arse. I do this as a personal preference. And because I believe if I make it easier to get to, then you’re likely to spend more time down there doing what I want you to do rather than picking pubes out of your mouth.

Now, most guys these says have copped on to the fact that it looks a bit better (and bigger) if they have tended to their man garden a little. Some have even shaved and one has even taken Veet to it. All of which I have fully and wholeheartedly applauded and appreciated. But never have I had my fantasy. Not once has anyone either offered to do it or has had it done as a matter of course. This saddens me as I think I would be filled to bursting point with glee if they did.

But I live in hope that someone will care enough to do what I do for them (insert super sad face here). I wear lovely underwear, I wear trashy underwear, I wear nothing but a smile. I put my hair up, I leave it down, I do prostitute makeup, I do chic elegant makeup. Basically I make a FUCK load of effort. A FUCK LOAD. And I’d love even half of that back.

So. Out there, running around is a guy who has tried it. Walked in and gotten the full deal. And here is what he has to say about it. This is Paddy’s (I swear to God that’s what he asked to be called) story.

 

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As a general rule these days the ladies and the boys are hairless in porn.  You come across some girls hairless but not that many. Yes this turns me on being as clean and smooth as a porn star, adding a bit of length and just generally looking fucking hot. But for me the reason to remove hair from the bad boy region is to enhance the sensitivity, hair blocks that. If the partner in crime is also hairless things just get more fun. It has taken trial and error to get to this point of my hair removal that I am happy with so lets take a look at whats best.

First off I never tried Nair hair remover, you would have to be mental to slather that shit all over your bollix. So I stared with just shaving, you have to go against the grain if you want it smooth and that is just prone to cuts and ingrown hairs which is not nice especially on the shaft! Okay you look smooth and clean but soon after red marks and within a week the hair begins to grow back and the itching starts. The itching is relentless and distracting and just about put me off doing it ever again.

Finally I tried waxing, yep the full wax, balls, shaft, above shaft and asshole. To be honest I was not shy about having it done but I had seen the youtube clips of guys getting it done and the endless screams of pain. I was worried about the pain that’s for sure. So my first visit was with a girl waxing me. Will I get an erection? (Which is suppose to help with a waxing, so I have read on-line). No erection, the fear cured that. So I popped up on the table, it felt very normal and the lady explained she was using wax followed by removal with strips. As the first strip lifted above my penis I realised this was painful but nothing I could not handle and far easier than trying to shave in 40 positions. As the waxing continued I was completely fine with it. My mind even wandered. Its worth noting that you do have a bit of work to do by holding your meat stretched in different positions so all the angles can be covered with the wax. After waxing it felt amazing, the first time is so, so good. You just want to test drive it as much as possible 😉

Another time when going for waxing I had it done with just wax, no strips, this was by far the best option. I always use this method now. This makes for a much quicker recovery, no strip marks and it can be completed much quicker.

When the hair grows back after waxing it does not itch. After about a month I want to get it done again as most of the growth is on the base of the shaft. Hair on the penis is a no no for me as it makes touch less sensitive.

There is no downsides I can think of but you have to keep it scrubbed well for a few weeks to make sure of no ingrown hairs, some red marks appear but after a few waxes your skin learns the routine. I challenge you guys to try it, prove the youtube clips are mainly bullshit, you can handle the pain. The payoff is long, hot and strong 😉

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Swoony, swoon, swoon! He’s not wrong guys, it hurts, but not as bad as you think. And I concur with the waxing method that doesn’t use strips. Most reputable places use this for sensitive areas. And I would never recommend you try this yourself. I’ve been at this for years, put yourself in the hands of a professional.

And please, please maybe even just consider it…..? I’d be so happy.

 

*That’s clearly not all I want but it’s a great place to start. I can NOT even tell you how grateful I’d be. But I can’t speak for all girls.