The Catfish & The Cuckold

Sounds like a pub doesn’t it? I might drink there. But I mean literally, because I am not entertaining either of the guys who own those titles. Ok, if you aren’t aware of what catfishing is (and that’s fair enough, it’s a newish term) you might want to look it up for deeper clarification but a brief outline is where someone appears to be one thing online but isn’t what they purport to be and makes continual excuses why they won’t meet in person. The name comes from a docu/film of the same title, in case you haven’t seen it, I will say no more.

But you have the gist. Someone who strings you along online but refuses to meet you.

And cuckolding, again if you’re not familiar with the term it is an archaic word used to describe husbands whose wives are cheating on them. In modern terms it is used to describe a guy who wants a loving relationship but also gets aroused at the thought of their partner being with other men. He wants her to sleep with other guys and tell him about it in detail. And in some cases watch or be made to watch. He stays faithful, but he wants his partner to sleep with others, for his delectation.

Again, you might want to look that up if that wasn’t sufficient info or you could read this super hot piece I wrote about it? I’m sure it has many guises and rules to be ironed out. But essentially that’s about all you need to know to continue reading here about my experiences.


So, I’m single and I hate it, no shocker there. And equally of no surprise I am on Tinder and OkCupid. It was the latter which threw the cuckold my way. He was attractive, fit and seemed relatively like he had his shit together. All traits I like. But his opener started with him putting his cards on the table and stating outright that this is what he was looking for. I was not put off. I’m afraid I have different barometers of what is ok and isn’t and I don’t subscribe to the fairytale notion that all great relationships are black and white and look the same for everyone. I was willing to listen to what he was looking for.

And as predicted he was seeking someone who was open to the idea; where he would be faithful but I would sleep with other people and tell him about it. We would have a fulfilling sex life but in addition to that he would need me to sleep with other guys and detail it to him afterwards. Just sex, no emotions, I would be emotionally faithful to him. I told him I was aware of the concept and knew some people who were into it, I was not shocked. But I added, that while this wasn’t a hurdle for me, other things might be. This we disagreed on.

See, he was a bit older than me and I think not used to the immediacy of my openness to it. Which is why I assumed he was so adamant that it was a bigger deal than I did.  But from my point of view? I can understand it, I can see how it would be hot. I would get the loving, caring relationship with great sex but as an extra I get to sleep with other guys? I want to state categorically that this is NOT something that I need. I am very faithful and have never cheated on nor was ever tempted to cheat on anyone; I’m a monogamist. But I could see myself being able to accommodate this kink, and kink it is. And I even had the guy in mind. I could get my wish, a fulfilling relationship, and at the same time get to still sleep with someone I enjoyed. That seemed like something that I could do. Ok, maybe not forever but I think I could definitely entertain it?  I could give it a shot?

I had the picture in my mind: being wined and dined properly by a partner, then occasionally fucking my lover and getting to TALK to my partner about it? Detailing every sordid little bit of it? Regaling him of what I did with another man so we could both get off on it? Yup, I had no trouble understanding how that could be hot for all concerned. It’s not anything that I need, but I could accommodate it. And so I said so.


But again just so we are crystal clear here; I would be doing it for him. I don’t need multiple partners, I want only one person, and as fabulous as some of my partners have been in the past, I am harbouring no underlying feelings for them. In fact I truly hope that they can be toppled from their podiums. because that would mean that the best sex is yet to come, and not behind me.



But I returned to my original point, this wasn’t a deal breaker or a stumbling block of insurmountable proportions. What was a bigger issue for me was the fact that he was divorced with 3 kids. T H R E E.

That’s a feck load of kids. And it meant that there would be 4 people ahead of me in the priority line, because you’re an eejit if you don’t think that the ex-wife and any stunt she could pull wouldn’t be next in the order. I would be fifth. Fifth in line for attention or priority and they are terrible odds. Sure that’s almost as bad as where I grew up. And those odds never landed in my favour. Yeah, yeah my parents are lovely and decent but growing up in a house with 4 kids and a dog means you had to be dying to ever get pole position. I have been very vocal about how I feel this has shaped me as an adult; I am fiercely independent, low maintenance and very unlikely to ask for help. BUT and it’s a huge one, as self-sufficient as I am, I know in my heart that what I want is the feeling that I am a priority to someone. Just one person. I want to think that I am the most important person to someone, because I don’t think I have ever felt that. And ironically that wouldn’t manifest itself in me needing anything or changing who I am, I just want the luxury of the knowledge that I am No.1 for someone. I’m not looking to be saved or rescued or to fall apart, I just want to have it in my back pocket that they would put me first. I even doubt that I would ever cash it in; ask them to drop everything and help me.


So that was my issue, I knew that this would never be a true love, or even a big love or anything lifelong. And I said it in not so many words. This he quite rightly brushed aside and didn’t address – because what could he say to that? It was true and he couldn’t change it and thankfully he didn’t try. I gave him points for that. And we moved on, sort of.

I felt like I had addressed his needs, indicated that I was ok with them, even went so far as to tell him how I could accommodate them, and yet… there was no reciprocity. All the chat went back to his needs, how it would play out, how I could serve them. There was no questions about me, or what I liked or even what it was I might like in bed…. No interest was shown in that. Again, I think I showed patience and when he gave me his number I texted and suggested we meet up and see if there’s any chemistry, you know, and take it from there?

I was still on for this, he lived in Dublin and was into filthy sex and rugby, that was enough potential for me. He responded to that text positively and said he was busy, maybe next week. I won’t pretend that I was less than impressed with that luke warm response but ok, it was Wednesday maybe he was busy and had plans (but he could have named a day for the following week?).

The weekend came and went, not a peep out of him so by the following Wednesday I thought I’d give it one last shot. I jokingly messaged that he was bombarding me with texts and needed to calm down. He responded and yet there was still no mention of us meeting up for drinks, again the convo turned to him asking me about my other lovers. Well, I’d had enough. That was the end for me.


The issue wasn’t that he wanted me to fuck other guys, or that he was divorced and had a litter of kids, the real issue was that he was all about himself. Literally any questions about me that he deigned to ask all came back to how I would be suitable to serve his kink. And ok, to some it might be a major issue and one that you would really want bedded down before you invested any time, or indeed met someone, but I really feel like I covered that off. I even mentioned the very lover I thought would fit the bill and why. And yet still he wanted more from me to convince him –  yet was making no effort to try to meet?


So that was the end of the cuckold. I wish him well.


The catfish…? I’m somewhat more reluctant to get into this one, I feel it doesn’t show me or my gullibility in a great light. But I’ve brought it up now so I suppose a brief outline is warranted.

*cringes so hard typing this.

It’s been 2 years. Well almost 2. It was December 2013 when he first contacted me. (seriously, this is excruciating to type) There was no real connection, it was sporadic contact. Which tailed off eventually. But then, and I’m not sure how, it became more frequent, I thought nothing of it but it became more fun, I liked the contact. Even though it was from a fake email address – not his real name, even though I knew his real name. Then it was phone calls, which were so easy. But somehow the meet up was always fobbed off. I grew tired of this and cut contact. And months would go by like this, then I would hear from him, sometimes I’d respond, sometimes I wouldn’t. Then I started seeing someone, told him I’d no more interest, then he started seeing someone, I asked why he still had interest? Surely his gf wouldn’t be impressed with this. And again I got exasperated and asked him not to contact me, and yet he does. Always with some weird explanation of how he wants to meet but can’t? And through all of this, I’ve never been able to shake the sense that if he was who he purported to be, I think I’d be quite into it.

And at the same time not being able to shake the notion of, what is this catfish getting from continuing to contact me? Why is he still bothering to goad me?

Sigh, I have no idea. But I no longer respond. Even when I’m in a bad mood. (not true, I responded the other day and I am still delighted with myself for saying this: The deficit of your credibility is akin to Ireland’s national debt. I’ve had no response you’ll not be surprised to hear)


And then in the same week, we had the guy who cancelled on me cos his granny died. My own mother could tell me my own grandmother died and I’d struggle to believe it. He coulda done better than that…. I think I’d have preferred if he’d said ‘My dog ate my homework’. In fact, I’m gonna use that the next time I have reason to cancel on someone.

So, I’m taking a dating break. I’m shaking my head so much that I’m gonna give myself shaken baby syndrome. It has to be back to old fashioned getting drunk and being chatted up. If anyone wants me I’ll be at the bar.


I’ll see you all there.

Anal Etiquette

Had a weird convo about Anal – well, not a convo really. I made a comment and the Twitter exchange didn’t really get into a convo, how can it.

Someone implied that boys love Anal and it was the same as girls loving a big income, I fucking refute that. On behalf of women and men. I earn my own money thanks. There’s enough men choosing safe security and enough women looking for excitement, you can’t say all men want anal and all women want financial security. That’s lame. And reductionist and really is a glib response. I think more of either of the sexes than to just accept or tolerate that.

I know more than one guy who is going to settle for security. When they could have chosen anal. But if the inference is that you don’t settle for the up the bum girl? Then that makes me even sadder. Can’t we see how that’s self-defeating..? If guys are willing to judge girls for having anal then a lot less girls are going to do it. It’s just sad for everyone. But ask yourself, if indeed you’re a person who judges people for doing it or a person who’s judging people for wanting it – what is it that you feel allows you to have your preference at the expense and negation of someone else’s? Whatever you do with someone or want someone to do with you, you should be happy to do it, and not come away from it thinking that you’ve gotten something over on them. Or think less of them because they were willing to engage in the very thing you wanted yourself.

And just because someone might want to do something that you’re not into, that doesn’t automatically equate to them disrespecting you.


Anyway, that was a little tangent but the thing that sparked it was a guy’s reaction to a misquote and him then assuming that I was open to anal. I mean I am, but that’s not what I was saying that early on in a Tinder courtship. But it was too late, he ran with it and was then more impressed with me than he had been. He turned super keen. Like a 10 litre vat of Coleman’s keen.

And this surprised me. I suppose it shouldn’t but it did.

It seems it’s still a really big deal. But how big a deal is it…? Is anyone talking about it? How many people are actually having it, how many are willing to admit to it and how many like it?

And how many judge you for your preferences?

I don’t have any answers – except from my own peer group and that’s hardly representative. But I can tell you this, if I thought all I had to do to get someone to chase me was to casually drop in that I wouldn’t mind a bit of up the bum, then you can bet your own arse that I’d be doing it, and have amassed myself an army of slaves to boot.


All men    nothing and all women nothing. There are no absolutes. And statements like that are infuriating.




Just a wee caveat:

If you think I am going to have bum sex with you, you should know that I won’t be taking yours up there unless you’re taking something of a similar size up yours. There’s a whole legion of you out there who have no appreciation for the logistics and difficulty of the manoeuvre. Only when you’ve understood that yourself, and had respect for what I’m taking, then can you have my arse. Seems only fair. And if you have to think about this, then you don’t deserve to be getting anyone’s arse.

I quite like a finger in my arse, it feels tight and the right kinda dirty. I like two fingers in there when I’m being fucked from behind – being told that he’s rubbing his cock through the skin in my arse. It feels different and I like the whole idea of it. And I like it, sometimes, when I’m being eaten and the guy has his tongue on my clit, some fingers in my cunt and a wee baby finger up my arse. It’s intense and tight and I can clench on everything. But I can just as well leave it. It turns me on and gets me to orgasm but for some reason it diminishes the sensation of the climax – there’s possibly too much going on sensation wise for me. Anyway, I think I’d like my ass to be played with a bit and then before I come for it to be left alone.

But that’s probably very personal perference. But that’s my current stance on it.

I Am Now A Prostitute

No I’m naht. But it seems I could be. This is the way of the world now, apparently.

In case you missed it, as you very well might, I can’t imagine anyone is glued to my Twitter feed night and day, but if you missed it, there was an incident on Monday morning that I shared. I was offered £6,000 sterling to spend one night with a guy. That’s €8,429 Euro or $9,067 US Dollars for you yanks who might be reading. Just so we are crystal on how much. (Apologies to anyone using a different currency – I’m just looking after the ones who talk to me – but shout and I’ll include you in any other fiscally themed stories)

That’s a fuck lot of cash to me. I’m not loaded and again as my Twitter feed would advise you of, I love eating and nice shoes. And booze. Damn I love booze and swanky booze too. Alas I am but a peasant girl, trying to make her way in the city with no trust fund or rich boyfriend or inheritance – you know, like 99% of the rest of us. I could always do with an extra €8k.

€8,429 is an almost inconceivable amount for me to think anyone would pay for one night. Mostly because it would take me several months to make that and I couldn’t see me blowing it on one night doing anything. So I can’t say that I wasn’t very intrigued. The journo/curiosity cat/pseudo psychologist in me just couldn’t let it lie. What would drive someone to do that? What kind of person would? Who would have that kind of money? What was he expecting for that cash? Had this ever worked before?


So I asked him. I have some of the answers to these questions you’ll be glad to hear.


First off, let’s just make one huge assumption and go with it; let’s just assume that he is who he purports to be and all the answers are as if this is a given.*


Unfortunately I didn’t get the first question answered – I don’t know what drives a person to do this; proposition an ordinary girl on a dating app. And I am an ordinary girl, he propositioned me, as me, not Abbi. So he did it not knowing that I have a high sex drive and am the cleanest filthy bitch you might find. So that not being answered is a bit of a let down.


What I do know, and you can draw your own conclusions from this, he is a self-made millionaire (remember what we agree at that start, we’re accepting these things as a given), he owns several high end sports cars that cost more than my house, a lear jet and is of Middle eastern heritage even though he’s British.

And – actually quite physically attractive. I’m just saying, under normal circumstances – I might have.


So it seems clear that someone like that, might just have that kinda money to throw around. But why didn’t he just get an escort? This I did get answered. Because he didn’t want the practised enthusiasm of a professional, he wanted a real girl, who would do what he was looking for. Someone who might be into it a little bit. Someone who wasn’t jaded from it.

I can see how that makes sense. But I’d have preferred if he’d said he got off on the kink of talking an ordinary girl into it. I feel that was the implication but I could be losing the run of myself there with the theory.


His opener was ‘£6,000 for one night’. I responded with ‘€8,000 in my currency, what’s your point?’ and he came back saying he’d pay me £6,000 for one night, cash up front. I countered with, for one night where you murder me. To which he said ‘No, just one night in a top luxury hotel, where we can have a wild night’

So it was to be money up front….? A night in a luxury hotel?

It’s all a bit Indecent Proposal, isn’t it?


I asked him how often this approach has worked for him, he said twice. I asked was it worth it and what made him pick me.

I was picked, so it seemed because he thought I was hot, despite this proposition turning out well only 50% of the times he’s done it.


Of course then I wanted to know what made it worth it and more importantly – not worth €8 thousand Euro.

Sex, you will not be surprised to find was the answer. One was a great fuck and one wasn’t. Of course sex is relative, being wild is relative so I wanted to know what consisted of a good fuck for him. To help out I helpfully suggested some parameters to see where this was on the spectrum. I said, and I quote:


Yes but surely that’s relative?

                For one person a good fuck

                could just be the inclusion of a

                blow job (and swallowing) For

                another it could be facials and

                anal and being punched in the

                face …


                It’s a broad spectrum




He said he was not into the punching and asked if I swallowed. I asked was that implying that he was into all the rest on the list? And that’s where the conversation ended, I’m sorry to say. I wasn’t nearly done figuring this guy out.


And that was Monday morning for me. I’m not sure what to think. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I think I’d be more flattered if it was Abbi who was offered it – as I suppose someone is buying a sort of ‘brand’ then. Or at the very least a notion of a fantasy. I could understand someone reading this blog and wanting to experience the fantasy – which is this insatiable girl who you already know what she’s into and how far she’ll go.

It’s not the truth by the way but I could see how that could become a thing for someone; all they read is the salacious bit of me and they can construct a fantasy around it, without any of the reality of who I am. My imperfections, my failings, my ordinariness. And please trust me when I tell you I got tonnes of ordinary just lying around.


And yet – a tiny part of me is more flattered that someone who doesn’t know this side of me, would think to see me in that light. That someone would think to offer that to real me.

That someone would get off on corrupting real me…. as I am. That real me came across as alluring enough to fit that bill and be covetable in such a direct way…

That’s a bit sad isn’t it? But unfortunately it’s true.


In other news, for the second time I was approached by a company asking me to promote their site. This company was a lot more polite than the last one, and it seems had actually read a bit of my blog. Either way, I turned them down. I’m not here to sell anything. Including myself so it seems.**









*Yes, of course he could be a spoofer. A lying fantasist with time to waste and having robbed the photos. Which is most likely the case.



**That said, when a lingerie company comes and gives me all the free knicks and bras I will most certainly say yes please and yoink that offer straight out of their hands. And if any of you sex companies are reading, if you send me underwear, I will wear it, photograph myself in it and post it here. With a fair and honest review.

And I’m not for sale, I either want to give it to you gladly or I don’t want to give it at all. That goes for boys ……



and Lingerie companies – I will model your stuff FOR FREE! You don’t have to pay me! Just send me the knickers….

Halloween Car Fuck

‘Let me know if you want a lift home.’

In that, as I nod towards the squad car

‘Yeah in that, what did you think!’

Damn right I do! I’m not staying out much later though, I’m going soon.

‘Doesn’t matter, just give me a shout when you want to leave and I’ll swing by and get you.’


I get a text about 20 minutes later; I’m on a break so I’ll be in my own car.

I’m sorry not to get a spin in a cop car but I know that he now won’t have anyone with him.

So …! It’s just you..? I text

Just me.


Two minutes later he’s outside.

I had thought when he texted that what I’d get was a lift home; he’d get out of the squad car and maybe I’d get my hand on his cock. If we were lucky one kiss if his partner wasn’t looking. But now…. Now there would be no one else with him. I’d sitting in the front seat. And again I thought, maybe I’d get it in my mouth for a few seconds, and there’d definitely be kissing.

He tells me I look fabulous. I put my hand on his cock and it stiffens to my touch.

‘Look what you do to me. Every time.’

The day it doesn’t react is the day I stop

‘Well that’ll be never then’ he says cheerily.


He is taking me to my parents’ house. I am home for the weekend. It’s not that far, certainly not at this time of night, it wouldn’t take long to get there. And I know I don’t want to get out of this car. I’m not sure what I’m expecting but I ask him if he’s going to pull in somewhere.

‘Do you want me to?’ he says and it sounds like a genuine question.

Yes of course I do.

And he swings off the main road and onto a back one. My hand hasn’t left his crotch. He takes a few turns but isn’t happy with any of the choices, his hand is now up my skirt with his thumb rubbing my clit. I am aching for him to press harder but he doesn’t.

I really want my head in your lap right now, can I?

‘I too want your head in my lap’, he says ‘but we’ll probably crash and die’

I don’t think this is the way I want to be found out.

There is no blowjob.


He takes a few more turns, I know we’re not far from the river, or a main road but I have no idea where we are. He does though, he always does.

Pull down your tights, he says. I do, and my knickers, even though he hasn’t asked. But he never has a chance to feel it, he has found the boreen he was looking for. As we turn up it the fog that had been coming up thickens, the road narrows and I see a dilapidated church complete with graveyard loom ahead. This is perfect. I do note aloud that we are probably going to get murdered. But it is Halloween so I’d probably be ok with that.


He pulls in and the car is barely stopped before he has his seatbelt popped and is leaning over to me. I fumble with mine, like an idiot and almost can’t get out of it. And I finally get to kiss him. Wanton, hungry, devouring kisses. I love them. He’s a good kisser, a great one in fact but it’s not just that, he totally lets go, he goes for it, there’s no pulling back or reservations with him. He wants my face on his and he pulls me into it. I love this. It makes me feel utterly desired. He never pulls away, he never stops the kiss, I can have as much as I want.

He pushes me back against the seat and goes to lean over me, I think to get his mouth on my other lips. I push him off and tell him no way! That he better give me that cock right now. And for once, one glorious time he doesn’t argue with me he just lets me have it. No games no teasing, no denying there’s no time. And he sits back and releases it for me. And I kneel on my seat and bend over his lap to get his cock in my mouth. So greedy for it and yet greedy for his mouth too. I suck and lick it eagerly and then start to deep throat it, this position is perfect for it. One or two dips and I can get it all in, swallowing his whole length. I don’t even notice I’ve done it properly until I hear him make that noise of satisfaction ‘God I love when you do that’. But that’s enough to distract me and I come back up and kiss him, not for long though, like kid in a toy store I want everything at once and my mouth is back on his cock sucking and licking and dipping down as far as I can go.


I’m wearing a short leather skirt that I had helpfully pulled up around my waist. My tights and knickers are at my knees and I am bent over him as he is still seated in the driver’s seat. Just so you have the picture; my arse is exposed. And he gets his fingers into my wet and swollen lips. I gasp as he pushes two easily into me but I don’t let go of his cock. I keep sucking and moaning.

He’s really good with his fingers, something I’m not sure I registered before? And as he has two in me he has one on my clit, delicately circling it. I can’t take it much longer, I can’t concentrate on sucking him, his fingers are too good. I sit up to kiss him and he shoves his fingers further up me and then gets his other hand to attend more to the front. I love this. I have always loved this. Something about a guy kissing me and fingering me so well gets me so hot. I think it’s all those years as a kid when that’s all that happened, being so aroused, I think it’s hardwired into my brain now.


I am making so much noise and I really don’t care. I am trying to push down as hard as I can onto his hand as I want to be filled with it. He takes one hand away and shoves his fingers, slick with juice from being in me, into my mouth. Oh god I taste so fucking good. I can’t get enough of this.

I am practically sitting on his hand and bouncing on it as he watches me suck his other hand clean. When I do he kisses me to taste it and then works his cock with his hand as he again goes back to watching me writhe and buck on his other one.

I am insane with the need to come and on the brink – I just can’t tip over.


I go back to sucking his cock as he fucks me with his fingers and continues to circle my ever swelling clit. I have to keep stopping to gasp as I cannot believe how hot this is, how turned on I am and how fucking deft his fingers are – again I don’t know how this has never registered with me before. I swear if I ever fuck him again I am going to demand that he makes me come with just his fingers and kissing me on the mouth. Nothing else. It’s a forgotten and often overlooked pleasure.


He’s had enough at this point, he gets out of the car and comes around and opens the passenger door. He tells me to come out to the edge and get on my knees. And with not much effort he pushes into me. His fingers felt great but this, this is the filling that I wanted.

Long, steady, controlled thrusts.

But this isn’t what he wants. He pulls out and tells me to get into the back. This is a little tricky with my tights holding my knees together and I don’t even know where he wants me.

On my back, as it turns out.

I pull one of my legs free of my tights and underwear and give him access to get between my legs.

I can’t move from there, I can just be fucked. And that’s fine with me, I want to be.


As he enters me though, his dick catches on one of the inner folds and I let out a tiny yelp. I’ve tried to disguise these as noises that could be pleasure. Because I never want him to stop even when I’m injured. And as soon as he’s in and thrusting I can no longer feel it, I just feel myself slicken around his cock as it glides in and out of me, pumping me rhythmically and satisfyingly.

I could stay here all night. But that’s not going to happen.

And soon he says my other favourite words, growls them really ‘Uh I’m going to come’.

I want you to, I say and I want to add something about it, I love it when he comes, I love his face the noise. I love seeing it, or feeling it – which I rarely do. I want to tell him to come in my mouth – but I don’t this time I just want him to come.

He says it again, ‘Uh God I’m gonna come.’ And again all I say is that I want him to, that I really fucking want him to.

I love when he finishes inside me. But I really wanted him to come in my mouth. Or at least say something hotter, more aligned with how turned on I was.


He stands up to sort himself, I pull my tights and shoes back on and stand beside him outside fixing my skirt. He grabs me and kisses me, both of us incredulous and pure delighted with ourselves. Giddy.


He brings me to my parents’ house but I won’t let him pull up outside, just in case. I kiss him one last time, again he leans into it, no holding back, no obvious eagerness to stop.

He always has enough for me, it’s never rationed.

I get out and say ‘Thanks for the ride home’


God I hate him.







And now I will get to come thinking of that night. For the first time, but definitley not the last.

Blame the Single Girl – it’s ALWAYS her fault

I’m not entirely sure what the overriding emotion or feeling is here? I’m not sure it’s anger or frustration. Maybe it’s resignation, or just dispiritedness in defeat? I’m all of these things and I’m irked and upset too. And exasperated. Mostly at myself.

My sister is being conferred today. She is getting her masters. I’m very proud of her, and I’m delighted for her. She deserves it most definitely.

But I am not there. And why I’m not there is what’s causing me the angst. I think more than a few girls are going to be able to relate to this.


And I’m sorry to say but it is girls who will have experienced this and not guys.


Straight to the point; the husband of one of the girls getting conferred today with my sister, hit on me about a year ago at my sister’s house warming. Now he was quite drunk and it wasn’t aggressive or forceful or at all threatening. I want that to be perfectly clear. It was a long night that went into the wee hours and there were a lot of people there. A lot of smug couples I’m just going to churlishly say because I can and I’m angry at couples right now. It also means that single girls were thin on the ground at this party.

Now anyone who is the single girl knows what I’m inferring here.

It’s not all the time, it’s not a given but it does happen wholesale – when you’re the single girl you are seen as fair game.

Although I don’t see what’s fair about it and it doesn’t feel like a fun game.


He’s a nice guy, his wife is lovely and the one or two times I’d met them before they had seemed very pleasant. But I didn’t know them that well they’re my sister’s college people not people who would regularly be around. So I don’t know what goes on in their relationship, I don’t know if this was him just really out of character or if it was par for the course. I don’t know them or him well enough to say. As mentioned, he wasn’t aggressive or threatening or overtly sleazy, it was all very subtle but it was all night. He would sit beside me and his hand would make its way to my back, and then down my back to my arse. Then his hand would make its way to my thigh, then further up my thigh. I would move seats and rooms and move around but he always found his way back to me.

His wife had gone to bed, my sister had gone to bed and I was afraid to go to bed in case he came after me thinking it was a come on. Now I wasn’t terrified, sure all I had to do was make a bit of noise and that would be the end of it. So I wasn’t that scared to go to bed I just wanted to make it clear that this was not ok, but not to make a public deal of it.

So the last time that he had his hand behind my back stroking that area between the base of my spine and the start of my arse, I reached around, firmly grabbed his hand and put it back on his own lap. Then I looked him straight in the eye and wagged my finger. It was coy sure but I thought it was explicit: I don’t want you to think that this touching is ok. But I’m not going to publicly call you out on it at a party.


But why? Why couldn’t I call him out on it? Why is it that girls have to put up with this, and if we make a noise, we’re the problem? And tonight, I’m livid about that.

I should be over having a drink with my sister but because I don’t want to take the chance of running into that couple, I haven’t gone. My sister thinks I don’t care, that I couldn’t be bothered, that I’m maybe being a bit of a lazy, selfish prick (not that she has or would ever say that). And to protect this eejit, I’m letting her think badly of me. How is any of that right?

This …. this is not sitting well with me this evening.


So what are my options? You’ll have noted, or picked up that I haven’t told anyone about the guy hitting on me. Of course I haven’t. How would that work out? I tell my sister and then she’s burdened with having to choose between telling her friend or not telling her? Sure that just makes it shit for my sister. And I don’t want to make it shit for my sister. I decided not to tell her, my reasoning being that I don’t have to socialise with this couple and what’s the point in making a fuss over it.

The other part of it being that I don’t know this guy and I don’t want to hang him for just being drunk and tactile. (it was more than that but essentially, it was just a bit handsy) And we all make mistakes, we all do things we deeply regret and I do believe in forgiveness and not destroying people for things that aren’t that big a deal in the long run. I don’t even know if he remembers it. Maybe he doesn’t, he was quite drunk.


And what would happen if I told my sister and she told her friend? Or if I’d said something on the night? Sure he’s the socially validated married, upstanding citizen, with the hot wife (yup, definitely hotter than me) and who am I? I’m the single girl. It would be his word against mine and I know all too well how that doesn’t come down in my favour in situations like this. The Girl always take the hit. The blame is always laid at the girl’s feet.


Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill – but whether this instance here is an issue or not the point I’m exploring is that some guys in relationships have a cover, a free pass, an immunity because they are in a relationship. And they get away with these kinds of things all the time. And I’m annoyed that I let them. I’m annoyed today that I’ve let that happen.


I’m not afraid of people a lot of the time. I am happy to stand up for myself and usually do. And I’ve seen that guy since and I’ve looked him straight in the face. But I really wish I didn’t have to.

I’m not feeling great at the moment (more on that anon) I’m not feeling feisty, or ballsy or  … strong. I’m not feeling like my usual self. Not that you’d know, I am mostly still strutting around like I own the place, but tonight, tonight I didn’t want to go over and be the single girl, knowing that if that had been a more serious incident that I wouldn’t have been believed, I just didn’t want to be reminded of how weakly I am protected.

How I have no social validity.


Tonight I didn’t want to be reminded that there is no one sticking up for me, but me.




*just to note, I can mostly do a great job of sticking up for me. My reserves are just a bit depleted right now. My confidence is cracked and I can’t find any plasters.

I will though. I always do. Have no fear.