A New Direction

I have been asked, by the delicious and delightful company Jo Divine, to make for them a review.

Of a sex toy.

I have thought about it. I do not want to end up like Emily Gould or Zoe Margolis, whose frankness left them clutching at their laptops in horror as people suddenly started using their words against them. If my name is ever splashed across The Daily Mail I would infinitely prefer it be in a headline like "Woman Sets Fire To Office And Rides Away On Pony!" than anything to do with sex blogging. I am under no illusions that people in general can be relied upon to respect anyone else's notion of an entitlement to privacy, and you would never catch me being surprised if, after I had willingly dissected the intimate details of my life in the public domain, some people did not react to it exactly the way I had hoped.

I write under my own name. Anyone can read this! My employer! My parents! Ex-boyfriends and current ones (I mean one, of course) and all sorts of shifty-eyed people like yourself. Although I am not likely to have a Corporate Job any time soon, there are many ways in which the decision to discuss my, ahem, private life online could come back and kick me in the shins. Of course.

The thing is, though, that I'm not really convinced that anyone will really care. Ever. I certainly don't. It's not like I'm going to put up pictures. To be honest I think I would be more embarrassed to admit that I went to Blockbuster the other day, rented season seven of Charmed and watched the whole lot in three days. Or that last night I got involved in a competition with two drag queens to see who could eat a bag of Doritos the fastest (I totally won, without actually swallowing any of the crisps - I just stood deadpan on the stage and crushed the Doritos on my mouth until the bag was empty. I felt like Britney). Or that when I was in Blockbuster renting the Charmed DVD I lied to the girl behind the till and told her it was for my niece (she remained suitably unconvinced). I could go on. And on. The point is, though, that I have admitted many a thing here and nobody really cares.

So I agreed. Yes! Send me your finest toy and I will write about it. I am considering writing the whole post as a series of antiquated euphemisms and Carry On-style jokes, and then, if it is a success, starting a mock sex blog in the same vein.

I chose the one I wanted and they are going to send it to me in the post. I wonder whether it comes with batteries? I know I will! Wahey!

Oh God.