Sunday afternoon, and I nearly forgot. So I said I would have my poke back at my good pal Lisa but I wanted to do it in a way that was genuine. I didn’t want to do it how she did, taking my work apart. I wanted something better, the chef’s kiss of takedowns that…
t’s half past one in the morning and I’m sat on the sofa in my Hackney flat with my legs tucked under me, black nails catching the lamp light every time I scroll. I’m still thinking about my guy, we spoke earlier, and then thought hit me. Social media. Are people going to accept him….
There is a particular kind of wanting that only exists when you know you are not supposed to have it. It does not arrive with fireworks or dramatic declarations. It settles in quietly and then refuses to leave. You tell yourself it is nothing. You list the reasons it would be messy or wrong or…
I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way a lot of men started treating “I’m a nice guy” like it was some kind of rare and impressive personality trait. Like they’d unlocked a secret level of human decency that the rest of us are still struggling to reach. They say it with…
It started the way these things always do on a dead Tuesday. Timeline scrolling itself into nothing, flat too quiet, me already in the hoodie with the hood up and the vape tasting like the last of the cherry. I opened Tinder because the alternative was staring at the ceiling. His profile sat there looking…