“Your blog’s been really boring lately,” says Katy.
“Oh,” I say. “Sorry.”
“It’s just really boring and political and politically correct and going on and on about some issue and going on about it and it’s been really, really boring.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“I like it more when you write about your son and what a dickhead he is and Peter your ex-boyfriend, what a bad boyfriend he was, and how much you hate him and how you always eat raw bacon and German men are really good at eating pussy and sex and stuff.”
“I’ve stopped eating raw bacon,” I say.
“You have?” she asks, surprised.
“Yeah,” I say.
“How did you manage to finally stop?” she asks.
I sniff, thoughtfully. “I just went off it, I think,” I say. “So what should I write about, then?”
Katy gives me a wicked smile. She smiles really wickedly, she does. You feel like you have to have a shower after Katy’s given you one of her dirty wicked smiles. You know when someone links to a sexist advert on Facebook or Twitter? Someone more feminist than you. And you click on it, all outraged, and you look at it, and you are genuinely outraged but you accidentally wank over it by accident and then after you cum you feel really dirty and guilty and non-feminist and VOR ALLEM dirty? Katy’s smiles are as dirty as that moment when you stop accidentally wanking over that sexist advert.
“Sex!” she says. “Write a blog about sex.”
I sigh. “I haven’t had sex for ages,” I say. “I’m totally unterfickt, as you Germans would say. I can totally understand why people say all those zickige women are unterfickt. I start arguing about politics and I can feel my breasts all swelling up with emotion and rage. Like, I think when I get angry my breasts go up a cup size now. You know what that is? That’s Unterficktigkeit.”
“That’s a good word,” she says.
“So I can’t write a blog about something I haven’t had for ages. Like, literally ages. We’re talking like ages. Before the election. I’m not like a sexpert. I’m more like a celibate nun.”
“Write about anal sex,” she says. “Write about how much German boys love anal sex. They love it, don’t they, Jacinta? Write about the German boys and the anal sex thing.”
“I hate anal sex,” I say. “I’d actually rather not have sex than have anal sex, that’s how much I hate it.”
“Ask me what I think about anal sex,” says Katy.
“What do you think about anal sex?” I ask her, obediently. “Are you pro?”
“I’m not pro,” she says, flashing me another dirty, wicked smile. “But I’m not anti, either.”
“I’m definitely anti,” I say. “I mean, not for other people,” I add quickly. “I don’t want to reintroduce buggery or sodomy as crimes or anything. I just don’t want to do it. I think vaginal sex is good enough for me.”
When I was a kid, I used to wonder about how the government could make sex legal. I used to lie awake at night and think about the age of consent and how they said you could have sex post-16. And I used to think: but if the government really loved you, like really, really loved you, and wanted to protect you, they wouldn’t let you do that. It would be forbidden forever, and you’d always be safe. Well, I kind of think that about anal sex. I kind of think that if a boy really loves a girl, he wouldn’t be able to do that to her. Coz it hurts so much, and vaginal sex is so nice and mostly non-painful. I mean, like 75 percent of the time, it’s fairly non-painful. But what do I know? I’m not some sexpert. I’m not a relationship guru. I’ve not got my life sorted out. I don’t know anything. I only stopped eating raw bacon about a month ago. And I don’t even know why.