Prim & Proper vs Decadent Kink


There has never been a better time to think about spicing up your sex life. The explosion of Fifty Shades of Grey has impacted just about every aspect of sexual thinking here in the UK. A lot of this stuff is fairly normal, but a conversation with my own Mr Grey got me thinking today. A while back, I suggested a burlesque show for a date. I didn’t think anything of it – burlesque is hugely popular nowadays – but he said it wasn’t his thing. Fair enough. Then, today, I suggested we go to see a circus show. It’s billed as being decadent and titillating, but also fun. His reaction was ‘hmmmm’. The word ‘decadent’ reminded him of a scene in The Inbetweeners film where a guy performs self-fellatio.

Oh dear.

Funnily enough, while we were discussing the use of safe words last week, he said he thought I was prim and proper. All I could do was laugh. He had no idea how wrong he was. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no BDSM enthusiast, but I’m definitely not prim and proper. The friends I told about this laughed too. Enough said. But it has made me think. I’m a fan of trying things at least once, but I’m now wondering if some things are going to be too left-field for him? Most guys I’ve encountered tend to have that side to them where you just know that at some point, they’re going to get all dirty on you. I kinda thought most men were like this but now I’m not sure.

Yesterday, I went shopping with Miss Sunshine for a dress – it’s her birthday next week and we’re double dating this weekend. Since I wanted to go the whole hog and get a suspender belt (the double date includes a hotel stay over), we wandered into Harmony and Ann Summers. Besides the paddles, whips, butt plugs and vibrators, were pairs of love balls. Of course we bought a pair each and I fully intended on letting Mr Grey know about my purchase. Hmmm. I’m thinking I might keep that nugget of information to myself a bit longer.

The thing is, I don’t think my idea of ‘decadence’ when it comes to sex matches his. What springs to my mind is light bondage, sexy lingerie and an emphasis on sensuality and fully engaging all five senses. His on the other hand seems to be…self fellatio? Big disconnect. Of course I took the piss out of him for this and told him I fully intend to tease him this weekend, both verbally and physically. It should be good fun. I bloody hope so. I like him a lot but this could be a deal breaker. I’m all for vanilla loving but if there’s no naughtiness, I know what I’m like and my attention will wane.

Here’s hoping my Mr Grey becomes a little bit more Mr Grey-like.


The Nice Guy vs The Bad Boy

My last post got me thinking about this, but I think it merits a post all of its own. We’ve all heard of the saying ‘nice guys finish last’ and when they’re up against the toxic bad boys, they generally do. Call them what you want, dickheads, arseholes, fuckwits, players – they have women salivating over them. I myself am probably a bit guilty of this. So why do we do it? And what about poor old Mr Nice Guy?


The fact is, a bad boy is exciting. He leaves you breathless. You never know where you stand, where you’re going or when you’ll get there. He’ll charm the pants off you and even while this is happening, you’ll know he’s dangerous from the start. I’ve come across a few, the most recent being a few weeks ago. This guy was gorgeous. Blonde haired, tanned and he had more than the normal twinkle in his eye. His opening line to me when he came over to where I was chatting with his friend was ‘and who are you?’. He gave me a good coat of looking at (as a friend of mine says) and I replied ‘you’re a cocky c*nt aren’t you?’. He grinned back but he didn’t deny it. I could smell his toxicity a mile off, but I still found myself thinking ‘what if?’.

Bad boys will lay the banter on thick and fast. They’ll maintain eye contact with you in a way that makes it clear they’re undressing you in their head. They’re the kind of guy who’d have your clothes off in the cab on the way home, give you the best sex of your life and disappear way before the sun comes up.


The nice guy on the other hand is sweet, caring, considerate but predictable. He wants the 2.4 kids, he wants the Volvo and comfy slippers. He’s the guy that will wine and dine you, open car doors for you and give you a polite peck on the cheek on a first date. He oozes stability and therein lies the problem. We love a challenge. No matter how many times we see it in films, read it in books or hear our mates crying over the latest fuckwit, we all think we can tame the beast. The guy you met at the club told you point blank, he doesn’t do relationships. Doesn’t want them, but if you ever want to hook up, he’s yours. I can guarantee you, 99.9% of women will be thinking, ‘I can change that.’

Sigh. We never learn. We want the bad boy, but we don’t want him to be as bad once we’ve got him. Once he’s ours, we want him to fall in line. Confusing, I know, but there is no reason for a nice guy not to be able to dip his to into the bad boy waters, and if they do, it’s win/win all round. Why do you think every woman in the world has gone crazy for Christian ‘Fifty Shades’ Grey?

This is the first thing a girl will pick up on with the bad boy. He’ll strut into the bar like he owns the place. He probably won’t have made much of an effort with his clothes and will probably look like he’s just shagged someone in the bush round the corner, which could well be true. He won’t make puppy dog eyes at a girl from across the room, he’ll give her the ‘fuck me’ eyes instead. He’s confident and arrogant enough not to put the woman on a pedestal – she’ll either shag him or she won’t, and if she won’t, there’s no drama. He’s got any number of girls he can call on if he needs to.

Confidence. It. Is. Key. I cannot stress this enough. All Mr Nice Guy has to do is imitate. People will notice you if you go around thinking you’re the dogs bollocks. The key bit is to know when confident becomes arrogant and make sure you don’t cross that line. If you want to pull the hottie, make it clear. You’re fit, she’ll go for you. Job done.

This goes hand in hand with confidence I think, but so many guys seem to have lost the art of masculinity these days. This has nothing to do with style. You can be the guy who rocks eyeliner and skinny jeans with a neon pink t-shirt and still have an air of masculinity about you.

Women want a man to be a man. A protector, a provider (to some extent). If you’re the kind of guy who uses cleanser, toner, moisturiser and buffer then for gods sake don’t tell her. Don’t tell her that you get emotional watching Eastenders either. We love guys who take care of themselves or can show their emotions but to be made aware of these types of things early on is a turn off. Avoid.


This is the draw. Master this and you’re pretty much done. Women like to know what their man is thinking, even if it’s something totally stupid. With a bad boy, you just never know, aside from when he’s blatantly eyeing up his current conquest that is. He is emotionally unavailable and practically impenetrable. He won’t tell her what his plans are for the weekend, probably because it involves sleeping with other women. The point is that a woman will have no idea what he thinks or feels about her. The thing with the bad boy is, this is not an act. He’s got his own life to live. Playing football, paintballing, drinking, working – she doesn’t need to feature in his plans unless he’s got the horn, which is when she’ll hear from him again.

It goes without saying that if you’re actually trying to woo a lady rather than just sleep with her, you shouldn’t go to this extreme. What you need to do, is keep your cards close to your chest. Don’t tell her your whole life story straight away. Ask about hers instead. It’ll make you seem more interested in us (brownie points) and the next day we’ll be thinking ‘actually, I don’t know what he thinks about XYZ’ and have us coming back for more. As tempting as it is to drop everything to be on demand for your woman, don’t do it. Even if we say we want you to, because it’s a trap. We want a man to pursue his own interests. Don’t be a leech. I can’t stress how un-sexy it is.

Finally, control. With a bad boy, the woman is never in control. Ever. Even if she thinks she is, she’s not. It’s always on his terms. It’s plain selfish, so you don’t want to push it this far, but seriously, grow some balls and control your woman. If she’s the type of girl who gets emotional because you’re off to the pub for a pint while you watch the game, go anyway. Let her have a hissy fit and tell her to grow up. Most women love to be dominated in some way or another and when you’re having a tantrum and your man point blank tells you to sort yourself out, he’s asserting control, and that is sexy. When it comes to sex, yes we like romance, we like to be stroked and kissed, but not all the time. Order her about, get all assertive with her. Bad boys do this like no other, because they don’t care. They want an easy life, they have no time for drama and they want good sex. The trick is not to seem like you really don’t give a hoot. She’s special to you, but sometimes she needs to be kept in line. And please don’t worry about coming across as a chauvinistic womaniser. We women employ tactics too, you’re not alone. A fellow blogger, Tripp, has done a pretty sterling job with some advice here:¬†

Bad boys are toxic. They’re ultimately not what we want long term. What we want is a mixture of the two. Having said that, I do think every girl needs to have a dalliance with a bad boy at least once. It’s a kind of badge of honour, and, it makes you realise what you should and shouldn’t put up with in a relationship.

A Jubilant Jubilee Weekend

One of the best things about being British is our penchant to celebrate everything. I definitely wouldn’t class myself as a royalist but thanks to Queen Liz being on the throne for like, ever, we got a four day weekend to celebrate her diamond jubilee. And what a weekend! Where to start?

I swooned over a work colleague who doesn’t warrant a name in the blog yet, but he’s a looker alright. On Sunday I met up with my girlies all at the same time. Nothing new right? Well my friends have never met each other until now, we tend to meet up separately, but since we’re going on holiday together I thought it was about time. So myself, Miss Sunshine, Miss Yoyo and Miss America met up for lunch and I think it went very well! We were meant to all go shopping together but schedules got in the way, as ever. When I finally got home at around 9pm I got a text message.

Introducing Mr Pensive. He’s a security guard from my work who I’ve been eyeing up for a while. He managed to find me on Facebook and we swapped a few messages and it turns out he lives 4 streets away from me. So he asked me out for a drink. At first I thought ‘I can’t be arsed’. It was late and I was tired. But then I thought ‘fuck it, why not’ and so I went to meet him. To say he’s cute is an understatement. About 6 foot 4, brown hair, nice eyes. And 24 years old. Another young ‘un. Oh dear. It won’t go anywhere. The spark wasn’t there though I’m not sure if he’s just shy or his English second tongue was a hindrance. But he’s very sweet, walked me home and gave me a peck on the cheek. We’ll see.

Monday I had drinks with some girls from work organised by Miss Effervescent, who organises our girls nights out. Cue 7 hours of 8 girls occupying a corner of a pub. And lots and lots of fun! Too much food, too much wine and one very hot barman. Seriously I could have dragged him outside there and then, he was that hot. Aussie, blonde/brown hair, cheeky smile and a great arse. When we left I gave him my number. I must be getting bold in my old age.

There’s a saying that things always happen when you least expect it, and it’s true. I didn’t expect to get a text from Mr Music asking me out for drinks, but I got one anyway. Imagine that. So after our drinks with the girls I headed up to meet him and his flatmate. Long story short, it was a repeat of how it always is with him. Lots of talk about not wanting to ruin our friendship because it’s one of the few he values, blah blah blah. I just wanted to get laid. I didn’t. We went back to his, fooled around and then decided that actually, having sex might just push it too far. Come morning I got up, made myself a coffee and fully intended on sneaking out. And then he woke up, asked for a cuddle and apologised for being an arse. I told him not to worry about it, I know he’s an arse. And cue more fumbling. And last minute backing off. If I had balls they’d be bright blue. I left and haven’t spoken to him since, nor do I intend to. I’m treating this like a guy would and I’m not about to obsess or over analyse what we spoke about. Though I think I must’ve been on heat because I was noticing hot guys everywhere. When I met Mr Music, the most gorgeous American made conversation with us. He was tall, very tall, with tousled curly brown hair and the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. We lost him in the packed out bar though, which was a shame. I blame it all on Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes, I’m reading it, don’t judge me. I need a Christian Grey in my life is all I can say.

And as for Mr Double-Barrel? I’ve decided to cut my losses. I’ve had enough of the analysis and uncertainty. I’ve not blogged about him since I met his friends but that’s a whole other post by itself. Suffice it to say, I think he’s playing games. So I intend to speak to him and see what he has to say for himself.

And now I’m getting ready for a trip to Ireland where I hope to meet with NaughtyLittleSecrets (check out her blog). If anything it will give me some time away from my mental gymnastics about Mr Double-Barrel because I’ll be going off-comms. Can’t come quickly enough!