“Dominic, you sure made an impression.
With a hickey trail, to be precise it was seven.
During foreplay he came on my right tit,
I cleaned up the mess, gave him another go.
His hands, his tongue, he rocked my clit,
A bit of this, a bit of that, it added to my glow.
Although I was angry that he took up half the bed,
The sexual favours more than made up for it.
Each one of our sessions was completely lit,
And to my delight, he spent ages giving head!”

Foreplay took a new meaning for me over Easter. Not to get religious here, but my faith in it has resurrected.Although I gave him another go in the sack, I’m still doubting if I’ll give Dom another date…
Pros: tall, fantastic body, gorgeous cock, foreplay god
Cons: a bit simple, thick (the bad kind), and during dirty talk he called me a whore
Dominic was also an AWFUL kisser. From experience though, I knew that those kisses would do wonders down there.. and my instincts were right.
After religiously watching SATC, I can announce that I found my very own Mr Pussy!





“There once was a bumbling bee,
He was charming, handsome and glee!
He went on an app, and gave me a slap,
But better yet, he’s STD free!”

Bless him. The most thoughtful and hopeless boy I’ve ever dated. Met him on a dating app too. When you’re dating and you just keep meeting the same people who’ve done the same “gap yaar” and ask the same questions, the minute someone remotely different comes along you can’t help but feel like he’s different, could he be the one?! Well to give you a straight answer on that, no he wasn’t. We dated for a few months which was a very new thing for me (and still is). He made me guac when I got home from work and he massaged my feet every night – thank you very much. But as much as I love guacamole and feet rubs, sadly the cons outweighed the pros. He didn’t make the bed. He wore pyjamas ALL. DAY. LONG. And he was lazy (aside from the bedroom). He also smelt a little funky. Anyway. The irony of this was that as “responsible adults” we went to the clinic, we got our checks done, however we never got to enjoy these sweet fruits.

The above poem was in the birthday card that he never received. As a few days before I asked for my keys back…. I’m sorry Andrew. Love makes you blind. But when the love ran out, and you’re filled with doubt, the boy gotta go. So he packed up his clothes, his butt plug and his toothbrush. Wishing you all the best sweet pea!

Yours never,



“Patricia, Patricia, with the voice of an angel.
Sweet bosoms tender and ripe.
My hands swerving, what made me think of anal?
The shocker living up to the hype,
Your pie hole also displaying content,
But from your bum hole, I could not rid the scent.”


This one is pretty self explanatory. I think I’ll be keeping my fingers to myself next time.. I resorted to using bleach to get rid of the smell of poo and shame off my fingers. Oh and I forgot to mention, that night we also had an audience.
Luckily I was flying out the next day so I didn’t have to deal with the consequences of my lesbian drunk alter ego. Cheers to that!




“There you were, sitting with a glass of wine with my name on it.
You looked stylish, but alas your taste of wine was shit.
What was worse though, were your poor teeth.
And even worse than your teeth was what lied beneath.
Let’s skip through a few too many, we find ourselves on the tube.
We eventually make our way to yours, house number 69.
Getting straight down to business, no need for lube.
In the darkness I chose to flee, I had very little time.
In doing so, I accidentally broke your door, and my dignity.
For this I could only laugh, and hope for a little sympathy.
His last spoken words to me were ‘let me cum on your face’,
If only his last words I could forever erase.. “


Dear Max, I’m sorry i broke your door in half, I’m not sorry for not letting you cum on my face.
I’d like to elaborate on the door, this was his bedroom door not the front door, im not hulk after all!
And was also partly his fault, he had wedged the door shut as to not have any intrusions from his housemate. How considerate.
The act itself ranked very poorly, but it was his pillow talk or lack thereof which scarred me. It wasn’t okay to keep me up with the rubbing of his unfortunate manhood between my bum cheeks.
Unfortunately he already had my phone number, and shockingly, made me an offer to see him again for some “fun times”.
Unapologetically Max, your offer has been declined.



A date with Mr Stingy.

“There is nothing attractive about being a freeloader.
Not at any age, any colour, any gender.
I kept looking at my phone to remember your name.
Hardly worth remembering, like you it was lame.
A little personality he lacked.
If only his face I could have smacked.”

This has got to be the most boring date I’ve been on for a very long time. I just had to check his messages again, turns out his name is MARK. With a K. When I first saw him I was actually pleasantly surprised, he looked quite dashing. And ginger (I have a thing for gingers). The problem was that I invited him to my office bar, and I knew that the drinks would be on me which is fair enough. What I wasn’t expecting was to have him ask me out to dinner after, to Wagamamas, which we can all agree is hardly extravagant, and as soon as the bill arrives it is dissected right through the middle, down to the penny. Luckily for him it was an even number! Cheers Matt. *Mark. With a K. Let’s not go on a second date, you’re as dry as a Sauvignon Blanc, but sadly, you weren’t palatable.



“There once was a man from Durham.
But he’s left me with a bit of a problem.
He pied me twice, even though we fucked thrice.
T’was a shame, he was good at moving his bottom.”

31st of December, here we are again. The angst and panic about how to finish the year with a bang.
My love life can come across as a bit of a comedy, and has been for the last… Six years. “The best years of my life” feel like they’re slipping by, a mini whirlwind of one night lovers, high hopes and lowered expectations, very few orgasms and far too much cheese.
So many feelings surround New Years Eve. So much hope, as we reminisce on the past year pondering on what the new year will bring us.
If there’s one thing I know to be true, and as much as I can be a bit of a fatalist, I have always believed that you need to seize the day. Forget about what or whom hasn’t worked, take onboard the good, and join me on my quest to make the most of my single life in London.
My poetic journey to love starts with James.