Tag Archives: sex

Dear Lorry Driver on the M6

Dear Lorry Driver on the M6,

Writing to the boy on the pavement made me also remember a moment with you. This one isn’t quite as romantic now is it?

Um so there I was driving on the M6 minding my own business. It was a hot summer’s day, and I had a linen skirt on with a sythetic lining (why do skirts do that by the way? natural fibres are breathable but synthetic ones aren’t, completely ruins point of a cool summer skirt, and um why am I asking you? You are a male lorry driver and probably don’t know the answer to that. Can I say that? middle class political correctness guilt).

Anyhow, I was getting a bit hot and bothered sweaty whilst driving along, so I hoiked my skirt up high to let my legs get some air. Next thing I know the traffic has slowed, I’m in the middle lane, you are alongside me, suddenly you are honking your horn and waving at me! I’ve pulled- on the motorway of all places! You are a bit of a dish so I smile back and straighten myself up, as I realise the reason for all the honking is you had a unobstructed great view of my legs and probably my pants from the lorry cab! *blush* Ahem!

Anyhow the traffic starts to move again, I accelerate away and you wave, you have made me smile so I decide to attempt some car flirting. Bearing in mind I am driving a Renault5 and you are driving a fecking huge Scania, this was like David and Goliath meets Cilla Black.

I pull over into the slow lane and let you “drive up my arse” as it were. You seemed to enjoy that as I recall, well no honking, “go faster you slow stupid woman driver” type road rage from you anyway. I then move over to the middle lane again for a bit and it’s quite romantic. It’s like our two vehicles are out for a drive together, we are smiling at each other, driving along. Then my Renault assertively, flirtily, suggestively leads you up the motorway for a bit again. We carry on this multi-lane weaving flirtation for a while. It is making me giggle alot, and given my journey was 4hours it was welcome albeit dangerous entertainment.

After a while of pulling these motorway moves, you start indicating to go into the services. “Ah well”, thinks I, “Never mind- bye bye sexy lorry driver”. Except um- you start flashing and beeping me frantically. Clearly you had a plan for us to meet in the services! At which point I completely chickened out and carried on driving. Fast. Except you didn’t bloody turn off. Now my happy little M6 flirtation has become somewhat sordid- I am imagining that you didn’t want to take me for a watered down services coffee, rather you intended to take me (or service me?) elsewhere!*

I carry on driving away but now you are keeping pace up with me. My 1.1 engine is no match for your giant many horsepowered one. My turning is coming up and then I realise- “feck if I turn off he might follow me, Fuck fuck fuck why did I start this, I am such an idiot. He will follow me down country lanes- this can only end badly. Arse”. So I accelerate as fast as I can away, I don’t indicate until the very last second and I speed frantically down my turn off giving you no chance to execute the manoeuvre. Given you beeped your horn angrily and stuck two fingers up at me, I suspect my gut feeling not to meet you at the services were the right ones.

Having said that, I am sorry for leading you on, somehow I get the feeling you do that sort of thing a lot (are there really ladies out there who actually would pull into the services with strange lorry drivers, what a sort of sheltered life I lead!?) and I have learned my lesson. In the 10 years since it happened I have never hoiked my skirt up or even attempted to flirt with a vehicle 15 times the size of my own.

Yours (but not really)


*P.S Although if you write back and state you were honestly only wanting us to have a coffee and maybe share some travel sweets from the WHSmith Kiosk, then I would obviously believe you.

P.P.S This fecking letterwriting malarky has got me all angsty about this kinda stuff and now I have written “not that kind of girl” but also written “Dear Slut“, I think I can feel another LadyCurd Letter coming on…..

Update: and here it is

Dear Slut

Dear Slut,

This letter was inspired by the lovely @kaygeeuk who, when #thatswhatslutsdo was trending, tweeted

So um yeah I’m a slut, as I want to teach my girls EXACTLY that. This whole males can enjoy sex and have sex with as many people as they want (because they are studs, lotharios, etc etc) but if women do they same they are Sluts, Slags, Skanks, Bitches, Ho’s, Whores etc etc. really really winds me up.

I suppose women who are called sluts are called it for one of two main reasons:

A) they enjoy sex and aren’t ashamed about that fact, and this goes against the “social norm” therefore others (and it’s often women 😦 ) find this threatening and therefore try and bully and intimidate the “sluts” out of behaving this way. There is also a very weird paradigm in that women are expected to look and act “sexily” but if they actually go the step further and actually shag about then society gets all cross with them, and calls them sluts-  seriously what’s all that about!?

B) because their behaviour is also causing hurt and upset of others.  This one is more problematic as I personally feel it actually depends on the personal motivation to act in such a way, every individual is responsible for their own actions and so long as you are not deliberately setting out to hurt people and accepting the consequences to your actions, then I cannot and would not judge you or ever call you a “slut”. However if you are deliberately and maliciously setting out to hurt people, then maybe nasty names are justified but there are much better non gendered insults for such people: Douchebag being a particular favourite of mine (although I did have a debate on Twitter about whether this was a gendered insult as I suppose it would depend if it was an anal or a vaginal douche ;)).

This dichotomy between males and females and their acceptable sexual behaviour is taught from a young age- it’s okay- funny even, for boys to masturbate but girls are taught shame if they are caught doing same. We are more comfortable with the word penis than vulva, and heaven forbid we mention that most taboo part of the female body- the clitoris to a child or even teenager! A simple explanation being “It’s a part of the body- when you touch it it can feel nice, you should only touch it in private and never let anyone touch it without your consent” (having explained and modelled consent to them too)

I appreciate females biologically may have more at risk than males from a sexual encounter because of pregnancy, and that has maybe led to some of this “slut-shaming” to try and prevent women from paying a higher price than men for being sexually voracious, but seriously we now live in a world where so long as you use a condom/femidom (being the ONLY thing to protect you against STI’s) and also use a back up method of hormonal contraception with a very low failure rate, then the liklihood of falling accidentally pregnant (or getting an STI) is very slim indeed.

Sex is one of the most awesome things you can do with your body (as is breastfeeding which I also find utterly incredible but in an separate non sexy way obviously!), it should be enjoyed and celebrated and not treated with shame, disgust, or humour. And women have just as much right to enjoy it as men. The caveat to that being both women and men should never set out to deliberately hurt anybody just so they can get laid; trust, honesty and communication being central to any pleasureable mutually enjoyable sexual relationship.

So yes, I want my girls to be able to wear what they want, love who they want and have sex with who they want without shame.  I hope my girls find someone as awesome as LordCurd as soon as they are ready to settle down, and I really hope they don’t make some of the fricking horrific carcrash mistakes I have, but in the meantime once they are old and mature enough, and so long as they aren’t hurting anyone or hurting themselves, then I hope they will do whatever they want to, and its absolutely none of anybody’s business except their own, but woe betide anyone who calls them nasty names because of it.

Lot’s of loving


Dear Oxytocin

Dear Oxytocin,

You are my absolute favourite of all the hormones. You promote pair bonding and motherly love. You are just all round totally awesome (see here for more info on the fascinating science of love). You are even released at Orgasm. ( here is an interesting article on the neuroscience of sex- though not convinced an orgasmless marriage is the perfect way to keep oxytocin levels and hence the pair bond steady?! ;))

On Pair Bonding Wikipedia says:

Oxytocin evokes feelings of contentment, reductions in anxiety, and feelings of calmness and security around the mate.[21] Many studies have already shown a correlation of oxytocin with human bonding, increases in trust, and decreases in fear.

(Although bit scared to read this also on the Wiki page “The inability to secrete oxytocin and feel empathy is linked to sociopathy, psychopathy, narcissism and general manipulativeness,” that explains a lot about a few people I know 😉 )

On Breastfeeding, Oxytocin and Maternal bonding I recently found article on breastfeeding, oxytocin and neglect tweeted by KellyMom, to be fascinating. I know for me, following an incredibly traumatic birth, breastfeeding massively helped with my bonding with Oddler. Initially I felt quite detached from her (I had thought we were both going to die – it was a protection mechanism) but breastfeeding was definitely the thing that awakened my maternal bond. (That’s not saying people who don’t breastfeed are not as attached to their babies, that would be stupid, it’s obviously not the only thing affecting a maternal bond, but it has been found to help strengthen it.)

I even have my own oxytocin anecdote (every girl needs one!), I was double pumping a breastmilk top up before bed and LordCurd came over to give me a snog goodnight (he’s been relegated to spare room while Omble feeds all night) and suddenly my milk yield had a huge temporary increase- I could see it in the pump kit! It was hilarious a simple snog must have released Oxytocin and helped with my let down reflex.

I spoke to a lactation consultant about it, and she thought it absolutely brilliant “what a lovely wonderful thing, it obviously proves how much you love him, he must have been really pleased!” Erm he was more creeped out than anything else! I found it funny and weirdly cool, but perhaps a tricky and somewhat odd thing to implement- lots of snogging while pumping to help milk yield. 😉

But yay for Oxytocin. I loves you I do.

Hormonally Yours


Dear CK One

Dear CK One,

I have a confession. You make me think of sex whenever I smell you.

Thankfully you are not as popular a scent as you used to be but it can be pretty embarrassing to suddenly have sexytime thoughts when walking down the street.

It’s not your fault, it’s the fault of my high school sex education teacher. She told us that “sex had a certain smell, and that people would KNOW if you had been having sex”. So as a teenager when I lost my virginity to my then boyfriend, so convinced was I that EVERYONE WOULD KNOW I HAD BEEN HAVING SEX, and not having access to a shower to rid myself of this potent sex smell that clearly I was now exuding from every single pore even though I couldn’t particularly smell anything that different I decided to douse myself literally from head to toe in CK one, before my dad came to pick me up & take me home. I overdid it rather- I remember my dad had to open the window and I was so paranoid he just knew!

For evermore I smell CK One and I am transported back to those clumsy fumbles in hot summer afternoons in my boyfriend’s bedroom and to me CK One will always always smell of sex.

My perfume of choice these days is Eau de BabyVomShite, it smells of the anti-sex.


Nasally receptively yours


Dear Very Very Out Of Date Purple Condom

Dear Very Very Out Of Date Purple Condom,

I found this photo of you the other day, I took it when I was clearing out my memory box

which kind of begs 3 questions:
A) why keep a it in the first place?
B) why take a photo of it?
C) why now write a letter to it?

You were my first ever condom, I proudly kept you in my wallet for years &years. At the time I thought this meant I was a liberated sexually confident female who wasn’t having any sex to speak of

Trying to remember where I got you from, I genuinely can’t remember which, but it was one of two places- my dad *shudders at thought* (seriously dad? Purple? Not cool- you and mum were way too old for that spice up your love life with a purple condom shit)

Or it was from Michael Speller, the boy in my year at school, who always had lots of condoms but they were all more likely to see action as a water balloon than a sexytime lifesaver.

I have been pondering why I kept you for 13 years unused, before taking this all important photo of you two years ago and finally throwing away the very very out of date you. (I suppose it’s definitely less weird than keeping my first ever USED condom, taking a photo of it and writing a letter to it right?!). I suppose I kept you because you were so important to me- so significant in my life.

I guess I had to write this letter to you because you have kind of come to symbolise my life’s work, my raison d’être etc etc*. Which is kind of ace and um a bit weird & random. But still, I thought you deserved a bit of recognition after your 15 years or so of not getting any action whatsoever.

You can proudly brag to your condom mates now.

Yours prophylactically


*NOTE FOR READER- For those of you now wildly putting two and two together (pun intended) until you get “lady of the night orgy organiser” as my “life’s work” – you are probably wrong.

Dear Gina Ford

Dear Gina Ford,

I am writing to thank you. For you serve to be the best “will I get on with you?” parenting friend test ever. It’s really quite simple:- when I meet a new prospective parent friend, those that used your methods, I usually can’t stand, those that thought *insert something offensive here* but not really incase I get sued about your methods then invariably I will get on with. Easy peasy parenting wheat from parenting chaff sorting.

Now lots of stuff in media about your latest book. Haven’t read it but from the sounds of the furore doesn’t seem to be much of the really important focus on communication and finding ways of maintaining intimacy. Which is actually far far more important than any fumble in a postnatal Mumble.

Plus why all the focus on “penis in vagina” sex? In general that has always annoyed me. Sex can and should be should be so much more than that. Though you can’t be blamed solely for that- that’s a societal issue.

Thought I might offer an alternate perspective- You might find more new parents than you think actually want to have sex but are blocked by a tiny person with needs more important than their own (an evolutionary baby survival adaptation to prevent the littlest family member being usurped by an even littler member in 9months!?), and suggestions on what to do in that situation might end up being a bestseller. In fact if you are too busy, I might write it myself. 😉

Yours Sincerely

Dear Shagging Neighbour

Dear Neighbour*

As exciting as getting laid last night must have been for you did you really have to scream your head off at 2am and wake us all up? At first I thought someone was being murdered! Did we all need to know how much fun you were having? Also bit worried bout how paper thin our walls must be as it actually sounded like you were in bed with us!

I know we must be really annoying at mo with a screaming baby up all hours of night. I’m very sorry. But seriously once it’s really finally all quiet on our side and I can finally sleep do you have to start with your screaming orgasms? Really? You’d think our side of wall would be a bit of a turn off plus you nearly woke a finally asleep baby. Grrrrrr.

Perhaps we both should look into soundproofing options as this escalating screaming baby/screaming orgasm warfare is not going to end well.

Yours sincerely

*disclaimer- this post may or may not be about our current domicile but in fact it maybe to neighbours past in London when Oddler was a baby. Maybe. <<hopes no neighbour of ours past present or future ever reads this and works out it’s me sniggering at you whenever you leave the house.>>