Five Girls One Box

Five Girls One Box

...In a world where, for a postage and packaging fee, we can expect anything to arrive on our doorsteps, it's unsurprising that initiatives such as Smut Boxes continue to pop up (pun intended- expect more). With the idea of catering to a generation who's laziness can almost never be underestimated: Group messaging flatmates from the next room and settling for avo on toast for the third night in a row - because, it's healthier than Nutella straight from the jar. Smut Boxes not only offer thrills in the mail, but also abolish any possible trauma experienced whilst visiting that overbearing pink nebulous known as, Ann Summers. Conveniently shielding us from the type of fear that can only come from entering those black holes on Soho side streets. You know? The ones with the gimp masks in the window. For me, I'm never really afraid of walking into the sex shop, it's the worry that I'll emerge 15 minutes later, empty handed; wondering when I became so vanilla. 

For those unsure where they stand on nipple clamps and latex, Smut Boxes, seems like a nice little guided tour. However, riffling through my very own box of adult fun on a Saturday night, I begun to wonder, is this really the helping hand we need to discover our own sexuality? Is it all just a bit of fun wrapped up in a sinfully suggestive black box? Or are we breeding, not only laziness, but further insecurities? Containing our fantasies into little boxes which arrive every three months? Because, maybe, that's where they belong... 

It’s Funny Because It’s True – Suzy Bennett Has Gumption!

It’s Funny Because It’s True – Suzy Bennett Has Gumption!

The only toxic seven-year relationship I’ve ever had, was with a meak little gold fish, named Pepsi. Pepsi (no this isn’t a sponsored post) used to tease me. She’d flop to the surface of her bowl, rolling over in an almost dramatic fashion (if gold fish could muster such mannerisms) as if she were dead. Then true to goldfish nature, as I got close to the little tank the act would manifest as nothing more than an anti-climax. This routine would surface around once a month until finally the day came when Pepsi really did get the flush… It was almost a relief to return to the kitchen and see her empty bowl. But the good thing about gold fish? No baggage. No gumption required. Probably no material for a stand-up-show…

First Love Is The Revolution

First Love Is The Revolution

If Shakespeare had fleas... and chickens...

Do you remember the first night you were let out alone? You didn’t have to come in when the streetlights went on, didn’t have to stay just within sight of the kitchen window, no further than Elaine’s at number 72. Do you remember feeling like anything could happen?

Rita Kalnejais’ takes you back there in ‘First Love is The Revolution’. A twisted take on star-crossed love brought up to date in an urban setting ,sees two naïve lovers, with only have their families and the whole world to keep them apart. Sure the premise sounds a little rehashed and overdone, but the Aussie play writes’ first outing into London theatre, is as thought provoking as it is funny and at moments, truly heart warming...

eHarmony's Big Man Up Date Night

eHarmony's Big Man Up Date Night

But now it’s my turn to Man Up.

“Quid pro quo.”

I’m standing outside sniffing back the tale end of, what I don’t think is too dramatic to describe as, the flu. Taking a deep breath in, the freezing London air hurts my chest. I roll my eyes in the direction of the All Star Lanes bowling alley: Another dating event. Another chance for awkward small talk, bumbling single losers, watered down cocktails and this time I wouldn’t even be allowed to do it wearing my own shoes.

Why Erika's Sex Is Hotter Than Porn

Why Erika's Sex Is Hotter Than Porn

“When you use a vibrator, how do you do it?”

We’re straight in (pun definitely not intended), it’s the night after Erika’s screening, there’s a bottle of wine on the table between us, generously supplied by Pablo; Erika’s partner in both life and film. We’ve squeezed into the hotel honesty bar at one of the nicer spots in Soho and Pablo has airily charged the wine to their room, before toasting us and leaving. Allowing us ladies to chat sex. 

I’ve always loved this part of the city, as a child, clammy hand holding mum’s, I would crane my neck to look through the red lit windows, of the Soho maze, searching for some taboo of treat I wasn’t yet old enough to understand. But now with Erika’s eye’s widening I feel as though I’m in the most exciting room of the entire maze… and not a gimp mask in sight… 

…I stutter, afraid that the question isn’t rhetorical, but thankfully Erika jumps in to save me. I’m left slurping my wine and nodding along like a loon. 

“Of course you close your legs. And it’s the same with sex; you pull someone very close to you if you want to have pleasure. So on a shoot I am trying to tell my performers to just have sex like they would at home. It’s my job to worry about the camera! Don’t give a shit about the camera! 

Let’s get one thing straight, Erika Lust doesn’t make porn, she films sex, but she’s not a pornographer. As we get deep into ‘adult conversation’, wine in hand, Erika tells me about her love for film, finding stories and how her sexual revolution began...

Fearless Flirting with Jean Smith

Fearless Flirting with Jean Smith

So I’m standing there, half wishing he’d notice me. Half knowing I’ll die of embarrassment if he catches me gawping at him from across the bar. He’s laughing. Oh he’s having the time of his life, head thrown back, eyes tight shut creasing at the corners, mouth open in a broad-as-his -shoulders smile.

I know already that there’s absolutely no question of me approaching him. Sure he’s just ‘my type’; looks like he reads books for fun, he probably knows what’s going on in the euro zone and, he’s dressed as I would expect any hero in a rom-com to casually be put together. But there’s not going to be any meet-cute here.

To give myself an out, an excurse to cushion the blow and, provide a reason not to try, I tell myself he’s out of my league. I tear myself away from the creep-fest I’ve become and stare at my drink instead of the boy, and I sigh.

 

Last Thursday I met Jean Smith, an American born social and cultural anthropologist...

Diary Of A Dating Addict - The Review

Diary Of A Dating Addict - The Review

When I heard there was a one-woman show called Diary of a Dating Addict doing the rounds in London, before of course heading up to it's natural home, the Edinbrugh Fringe, well of course I tracked down tickets to the very first preview of Maddy Anholt's latest show.

Eager to know whether art would imitate life I swapped the rare London sunshine and beers on the common for a little dark and slightly sweaty theatre above a bar in Camden..

A Date With Hype!

A Date With Hype!

I’m dancing! I have two cocktails in my hands and I’m shaking my hips and I AM BEYONCE. I’m laughing, surrounded by a group of strangers and I feel entirely at ease. Cocky even! Who would have thought it and, on a London dance floor? A dance floor in a city, which gives the impression, it would sooner stab you than shake your hand.

I’m on a tour with the London app, Hype and I actually feel pretty cool about it.

Even meeting at Aldgate East, then standing in a circle telling the rest of the tour group my name, somehow feels painless...

A Single's Pub Crawl

A Single's Pub Crawl

So last Sunday I was useless. I could barely dress myself, eat or stand without a serious concern that I might lose the contense of my almost empty stomach. 

The night before I had embarked upon a Single’s Pub Crawl with Date in a Dash.

Singles Pub Crawl, three words holding so much promise for those who subscribe to the, very British regime of, getting shit faced before being able to talk to the opposite sex.

The night was sure to be even more fun, as I was meeting five awesome ‘Wingwomen’, each with dating blogs of their own...

The House Party Launch Party

The House Party Launch Party

A house party in an East London hotel. It’s the type of sentence only the really cool gang at school would ever have been able to brag.

But for the launch of new Dating App, My Mate Your Date, we were all going to pretend to be cool kids. The Hoxton Hotel was to host a house party for singles who had joined the app early. With free drinks, canapés, beer pong and a DJ. Usually the word ‘single’ in front of any party or event spreads the stench of desperation and a cloud of loneliness over the entire occasion. But as I walked past the Hoxton Hotel, on my way to meet my wingman of the moment, I had feeling ‘cool’ would triumph over tragicness this time…