• Boys and touching boys and boys who touch

    I love you, just not what you’re into.

    Since we nearly broke up a few months into our relationship after I told my Lord of The Rings loving boyfriend (JK) that ‘I didn’t care for fantasy’ I’ve made a concerted effort to champion his interests while remaining detached and uninvolved. Like he’s really into historic drama TV shows – Vikings and Hell on Wheels type stuff. Sometimes he even insists we watch them together so I try and make a game of it, guessing how far into an episode I’ll see a woman’s breast, or her rape or perhaps her sale to a wealthy landowner. He’s also really into reading books about dogs, which is cool, if that’s…

  • Boys and touching boys and boys who touch

    22 isn’t too young if they have arm hair. Fact.

    ‘Is 22 still too young?’ I asked as I watched the object of my distraction lie naked say for a few well-placed bubbles, in a bathtub on my local Hoyts cinema screen. My friend heaved her fist back into her popcorn for one/ for both of us to share. ‘Yes, she said, in this case it is.’ She took a sip of hers/ mine diet coke. ‘We’ve known him since we was like 13 years old.’ ‘But surely if there’s grass on the wicket it’s kosher to play cricket?’ I glanced at the now ex-Harry Potter actor on the screen, dressed in nothing but a samurai sword and a belt,…

  • Boys and touching boys and boys who touch

    Sex adventures with idiot boy

    It was high school and ok, by my own admission my short hair, black Levis jeans, bloodstone boots and Jack Daniels t-shirt had me at a distinct disadvantage with the boys. Not to indulge the stereotype but I wasn’t the kinda girl you’d ask to split a milkshake with, no I looked more like the girl a knowledge hungry high school boy might come to for advice on fisting. Then came the summer of 96 and with it came the shedding of my sexual ambiguity and out sprung a bonefide boy fancying girl (granted I’d still kept the souvenir of being about 7 pounds overweight, but I wore it well, namely…

  • Boys and touching boys and boys who touch

    He didn’t touch me, I left my pants on.

    I suffered what the doctor called a ‘drug overdose’ the other day. My first ever! (Well I refuse to count my slight addiction to Sudafed in 97′ that had me thinking I looked like a supermodel, whereas in actual fact my mother preferred to use the term ‘crack addict’ – nor am I going to include the time I discovered the untold pleasure of mixing a nice Sauv Blanc and Panedeine Forte on a hot summers day listening to Joss Stone…. lets just say I was discovered thinking I was a guest on Parkinson discussing my ill fate romance with Steve Coogan…).. No, this time my foray into the numbing…