Girls Like Sex Too

‘She brings someone home every weekend’, what a slut, ‘He brings someone home every weekend’ what a legend. I’m sorry, did society have a brain fart or what? I’m over this ‘she’s a slut’ versus ‘he’s the man’ when we’re looking at the exact same scenario.

Why is it that Irish women who bop on with casual sex are considered loose and tainted, but when our male counterparts do the same they’re welcomed back as heroes? It could be our Catholic guilt? White wedding syndrome? Or we could just be seriously, seriously backward… Irish guys are having a grand ole time, but us girls are ruining our own fun.

How about the next time your bestie reveals she went home with the library hottie after Krystle you high-five that hunzo. High-five her and leave your shocked gasps where they belong, the back of mass. Now I’m not encouraging disrespecting yourself, no appearances on ‘Best Nightclub Photos’ please… But get rid of the guilt. If you want to have sex then go do it. Be smart, be safe. But stop guilt tripping, this isn’t a bad thing. We’ve been having sex since the caves ladies, its nothing new. And last time I checked sex was supposed to be fun! For girls and guys, advice has come a long long way from ‘lie back and think of England’.

Faking headaches is surely the creation of a man, we like sex. Women in their twenties actually want to have sex.  So if we could all just stop judging each other and let nature take its course then we’d all be a lot happier, and certainly a lot more satisfied. Channel your inner Samantha Jones, revolutionize your sex life, revolutionize your approach to men. Stop being a shy wee wallflower, if you want him go get him. No really, stop hiding behind Snapchat and actually be productive about it.


A lot of my girlfriends are fearful of the phrase ‘she’s so easy’- ummm you’re so lucky that she decided to entertain you. You have to set your own level of respect, I’m not saying don’t make them boyos work for it, but don’t feel like you have to stick to a ‘3rd Date’ rule. Make your own rules. Its your body, its your sex life, don’t try to squish it into fitting into a made-up structure.

What are we scared of? STDS-use a condom. Your reputation- don’t kiss and tell. Other girls- probably just jealous. What we’re scared of is running into ourselves somewhere out there in the abyss of sexual exploration. We’re in our twenties and we’re scared of who we are, we’re scared of our identity, in the bedroom and beyond. Honey boo boo, stop being scared, you’ll never find yourself if you don’t live a little. Not every girl feels exploring this avenue is important to reaffirming her identity, more power to you girlo, if its not your adventure that’s cool. But don’t judge the girls that do.

Get the ride- not the guilt.



The Quarter Life Crises

‘So no one told you life was gonna be this way. Your jobs a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s D.O.A.’ Sound familiar? This little gem doesn’t just spark the memory of Ross and Rachel but in recent months has become more and more relevant. A comparison I was able to make while indulging in far too much day-time TV. Instead of trying to deal with what was going on around me. Fact is folks, if you’re in final year or recently graduated you’re absolutely bricking it. Being a grownup is now a tangible reality and it isn’t nice. Introducing ‘The Quarter Life Crises’, we’re all going through one, so hears a few hints and tips on how to not self-combust.

The day after graduation I sat in my childhood room, on my Barbie sheets, and full on bawled. This is okay. I promise. The ugly crying is stage one, recognition, also known as ‘Holy shit, is this my life?’. It is. Get living. We all began this college adventure with the very best intentions of completing our three or four years and then settling into grownup-hood. The rules have changed. I don’t want to be a grownup anymore, I don’t want to work in the area I studied for three years, I don’t want to do my masters. The logical response to this rant is usually, ‘Oh and what is it that you do want?’ which leads to further daytime television distraction and if pushed the answer ‘Fuck knows’.

get lost

I don’t want to be a grownup, but being Peter Pan isn’t actually a valid option. Look around you, everyone, guys, girls, parents, are all watching you slide into the quarter life crises fold. My best, very best advice is to just embrace it. Embrace not knowing, embrace being scared and see what happens. School and college have been educating us not only in choice subjects but in life. We’ve all had the teacher who claimed our rampant giggling would get us nowhere in life. And now we’re about to figure it out for real.

It’s time, little lost one, to take your head out of sand, yes its scary, but it has to be done. Ignore the incessant whispers around the library ‘2:1, 2:1, 2:1’, acknowledge that a masters is an option but not compulsory one, chillax. This time is yours to make mistakes, to carve experiences and to figure out what you want. Don’t force it and don’t let others force it upon you. You are the one who has to live this life, not your mum, dad, brother, best friend, lecturer, significant other, you’re the one who is responsible for making life choices that are going to make you happy.

Six months ago I was curled up in the library, jacked up on caffeine and my screensaver was a shakily drawn ‘2:1’. I didn’t expect to defer a masters, I didn’t expect a three month American adventure, I didn’t plan expect to begin a blog. And you know what; the unexpected has brought me the greatest happiness.

Freak out about it, everyone else is.


Boyfriends Aren’t Real

We’ve all heard the lengthy sigh of our female friend, followed by ‘I just, like, need to be spooned. I want a boyfriend’. I’m gonna strip things down a few layers(raunchy), right down to the word boyfriend. Imagine this, you have just woken up from a magical sleep, its 2013, you are 21, single and the world is laid out in front of you. Now I’m not saying its the first thing you’ll be confused by, but its gotta be up there, you’re going to wonder what this mystical ‘boyfriend’ figure is. The one every single girl whimsically whispers about. I think we all need to take a deep breath and maybe, just maybe, recognise that this ‘boyfriend’ does not exist. The image you have conjured up, of a champion spooner, always-texts-you-backer with an unreal bod, simply isn’t real. ‘Prince Charming’ and ‘Boyfriend’ are fictional characters that us hunzos in our twenties are holding up as beacons of hope. Umm… Can we do something else please?

This doesn’t just apply to Irish girls, it has its own effect on the lads. They’re scared of the ‘boyfriend’. The ‘boyfriend’ lifts more than them, the ‘boyfriend’ is romantic, the ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t fart in bed. He’s making them all look bad, they’re pale in comparison to the imaginary relationship we’re in in our heads. Actual boyfriends, real life ones, aren’t perfect, they fuck up all the time. Imaginary boyfriends, don’t. And herein lies the issue, no real life boy is ever, ever going to live up to the expectations we have created. Because real life boys, have real life weaknesses, they forget things, they get drunk, they make mistakes but maybe they’ll be ok at spooning? This is very very disappointing to the average young lady, so we’ve just kind of, ignored it… Girls don’t want real boyfriends, girls want their imaginary one to suddenly morph into reality, and they’re willing to moan about it for years and years, until they eventually just settle on a real life boy who is semi ok. What a waste of time…

perf bf doesn't exist

This whole ‘I need a boyfriend’ seems like stage one of how to completely self-destruct and ruin your own life. How about, we stop imagining boyfriends and start imagining what it would feel to own your own business. How about, we stop pretending we’re lonely, you aren’t lonely, you’re bored. Stop being bored. If you’re lonely go and change things, move places, do things you wouldn’t normally do. Skydive, scuba dive, ski, find whatever it is that’s going to remind you that you’re alive. We get one life, one. Repeat. One life. I’m not wasting mine sitting around the arts block moaning about my relationship status. Get up, move, go to the gym, book a flight, create yourself. We’re putting more effort into creating our image of an ideal man than creating ourselves.

be young, be dope, be proud

I’m rebelling against relationships.Don’t be in a relationship with an figment of your imagination, don’t be in a relationship with a real life disappointment, calm down and stop rushing yourself. Dance your pants off, drink shots, never forget your girls and just let yourself have FUN.

Young, Fun, and Single. Live it, breathe it, be it.