You Should Know

I’m not famous, not even a comedian or reality star. I only have 725 followers on Instagram, 3 of which will ditch me by the morning due to my lack of putting out on Whatsapp.

But (I know you shouldn’t start a sentence like that), you should know I have a story to tell: tales of pain and pleasure – not like Fifty Shades that didn’t even touch the sides – but wholeheartedly as a ‘young’ woman who hit 30 and is starting to compare herself to the likes of Bridget Jones, or more worryingly the 2007 Britney meltdown/headshave incident when it comes to the emotional trauma of modern day dating. I want to tell you about my dating experiences, the faux pas and disasters (mostly the latter – I’m still single).

But (oops I did it again), before we begin, I must express that my intention is not to give men a dressing down, or head a feminist campaign (in which I would have no choice but to punch Meghan Trainor in the face) it’s simply to vent. We’ve all been there. Or, for greater achievement, we women can form some sort of cunt coven (again, not feminist or sadistic despite the name), that simply cries together over Doritos and Netflix on a Saturday night as our wombs miss the gym again.

Here’s my dating misfortune, dick by dick.