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I should probably tell you that I got fucked around by a Fuckboy tonight, but I’m following my own advice for once and just letting it go and not giving a shit. If you have read my blog about the penis massacre then you would have read about Kieron, the tattooed, gym snap-chatter who aroused my Fuckboy radar. He never actually did anything Fuckboyish to begin with, I just had the sense that he had the potential to in the future. He’s actually been really consistent with messaging and liking my pictures, he’s been attentive, given me constant compliments, and he’s made me feel wanted. Up until now.

We’ve had two dates and I find him lovely to look at and we have great sexual chemistry but I think with him it’s just lust. He’s not the sharpest tool in the box and his bad spelling grates on me but I haven’t had sex for a really long time and there’s literally no other available options, so I’ve been starting to convince myself that maybe it’s worth getting it on with Kieron, he’d be the perfect gap filler (literally).

My son is staying at his Dad’s tonight and so Kieron and I had made a plan from last week that he would come over to mine. I hadn’t waxed in a month or so, so I scheduled my wax appointment for the day before yesterday so that I was in prime condition for today (because the day after waxing it looks like a badly plucked chicken). Waxing is painful and expensive. If I have specifically groomed my vagina for you please, I beg you, do not fuck me about. It will not feel like this again by the next time I am child free, this is the most smoothest and perfect it can be and someone needs to fucking see it.

Kieron messaged me this morning in response to a Snapchat I had done. He told me he couldn’t wait to see me later. We spoke back and forth for a bit throughout the day and he told me a lot about what he planned to do to me. At 5pm I sent him a Whats App message asking what time he was coming. He didn’t read the message until 20:06pm, yet he snap chatted his dinner at 7. I messaged him again at 20:15 saying ‘DPMO’. At 20:45pm, when he saw the message and went back offline without responding, I decided to call him. I needed to know what the fuck was going on. Obviously he didn’t answer, I could have predicted that. This type of shit makes me so confused. Yes, I was excited for him to come over so I could sit on his face and get fingered for a bit, but I wouldn’t have cared that much if it didn’t happen, I’m not that fussed. What I am fussed about is that I only get one child free night every 2 weeks and now he has made me waste it in the rudest way possible.

Tell me at 5pm that you can’t make it and I’ll say cool, let’s rearrange, string me along until 9pm for no apparent reason and I’ll just be massively pissed off with you. It’s logical. Now you’ve made me waste a fanny wax, and shaved legs and I’m sitting around not knowing whether to do my hair. I don’t understand the mentality. My first instinct was to send him a message saying ‘I’m so fucking angry with you, we’re done’. I was about to start typing when I thought FUCK THIS and threw my phone on to my sofa. Why do I need to announce that I’m done?

The only time you send a text to announce that you are done is when you are not fully done and you want them to message back or ring you saying ‘No, please don’t say such things, my Grandma just needed a chat and a cup of tea so I was stuck round there for ages, I’m so sorry I missed your call, and messages, can I make it up to you by taking you to a really nice restaurant?’ But they don’t. They’re Fuckboys. What they do is read your ‘I’m done’ message and then go offline for the rest of the night, leaving you to come to the only reasonable conclusion which is that they are shagging someone else (they are, it’s probably their girlfriend who they live with). The next morning (after the girl has left for work) you wake up to a text saying ‘Babe, last night was a madness *insert elaborate story involving some kind of car breaking down and battery dying*’, and if you let them work your brain and you end up forgiving them, then you get sucked into a situationship full of unanswered messages and him constantly turning up to see you 3 hours later than the time you agreed even though 2 hours ago he said he was round the corner.

I’m not getting involved with that shit (I’ve been there before, I think we all have). Inconsistent Fuckboy bullshit. Normal people do not behave like this, they communicate. So tonight I am learning from my mistakes and I’m not replying. This Fuckboy does not deserve to get into my bed and I’m pleased that he showed his true colours before I let him in. Anyone who ever pulls a stunt like this on you is not worth talking to ever again. You don’t need to tell him he’s a dickhead because he is a dickhead, you telling him that in a ranty text is not going to change anything. Block and move on.

It’s a shame though because he looked like he’d have a really nice dick. A big dick print is such an attractive thing, especially in grey jogging bottoms, but on a practical level I prefer a medium sized willy. I really do not understand why big dicks are so popular. Big dicks hurt. A big dick makes me incapacitated when I’m bent over or on top, but not in a good way. And they’re harder to suck, you’ve got to work extra hard not to scrape with your teeth and your jaw aches from how wide you’ve got to open it. Big dicks are hard work, literally. And they usually belong to someone who is even more hard work. Having a big dick makes men think they’ve got alpha male status, it also seems to make them want to share it around so that everyone gets a turn.

I met a guy on Instagram called Josh. One of those where you randomly start following each other and liking one another’s pics. We were following each other for a long time, he was sexy as fuck but his Insta showed him as a party animal player type and I wasn’t looking to get involved so there were no DM’s, just banter, flirtatious comments and likes for so many months that I began to feel like I knew him. He once posted a picture of himself wearing grey tracksuit bottoms and the dick print was so eye wateringly ginormous that I thought it must have been fake dick banter. People were putting laughing faces along with their aubergine emoji’s in the comments underneath so I was sure that it was definitely a joke.

The stars aligned several summers ago and fate had it that Josh and I were in Ibiza for the exact same weekend in June. I landed at the airport and scrolled through my Insta and randomly saw a picture of Josh at Bora Bora Beach, I was excited by this, we’d been building up this flirtation from afar for so long that it was going to be mad to meet each other, especially as neither of us had known that the other was going to be in Beefa. I slid straight into his DM’s telling him I was on my way, Josh said ‘What!! OMG YESSSSSSS!’ My friends Grace and Kimberley had seen the dick print pic of Josh in the group chat and so they were well up for heading straight down to Bora Bora once we’d freshened up at the hotel. I needed to choose my outfit carefully, Josh was a major hottie.

I had bought the most beautiful crotchet white bikini, it cost me a fortune but it was worth it. I really wanted him to see me in it but I had planned to save it for Ocean Beach Club the following day. I chose a different bikini, put on some jean shorts and headed down to meet them. Josh and his mates were sat at one of the tables when we arrived, they were surrounded by a gaggle of young girls who looked absolutely stunning from faraway but close up, fuck me, it was like they had run out of foundation and used peanut butter instead.

All 4 girls had patchy orange bodies and mahogany coloured faces. They all had the most ridiculous weaves I’ve ever seen, it was like they’d got Stevie Wonder to glue them in. I’m not sure what eye lash glue they were using either but it clearly was not able to withstand the Ibiza heat, as their lashes hung precariously over their cheeks every time they blinked. I think maybe they had used the same glue on their hair as they had on their lashes. They all had sick bodies though, I’ll give them that, and they clearly wanted to ensure that as much of those bodies as possible were visible at all times. I could see more side vulva than I could cope with, although to be fair, if my body looked like that I’d probably parade around wearing only strategically placed post it notes with motivational anti-Fuckboy quotes written on them, so I’m not one to judge.

These girls were 18 and from Newcastle and they were super excited to be in Ibiza with this group of older London lads who were semi ‘Insta faces’, these girls were pissing me the FUCK off. Josh greeted me Grace and Kimberley warmly, Josh’s mate’s looked pleased to see my friends, Grace in particular is gorgeous, her name describes her perfectly. Grace is my best friend. One of Josh’s friends fell in love at first sight. We got on a vibe and started having a great time. Josh and I hit it off straight away. He had a visible dick print through his shorts, which was slightly distracting. The badly weaved witches were feeling pushed out and were doing everything they could to regain the boys attention, there was a lot of faux lesbian shit going on, it was painful to watch.

We were all talking to each other in a circle trying to phase the young chicks out but they weren’t getting the hint so we left the bar and walked down to the beach to get away, but the girls followed. One of Josh’s friend’s was entertaining it, he wanted to fuck one of the mahogany faced fools. This was pissing Kimberley off because she had decided that she liked that friend. We’d all had some dizz (mdma) in our drinks but I wasn’t feeling good because the vibe was off. The naked chicks were whispering and laughing and it was bugging me out, another of Josh’s friends had started being really over sexual with Kimberley and she wasn’t picking up on it. Grace was tired and wanted to go for a nap and was trying to get Kimberley to come with her. One of Josh’s friends was shuffling so enthusiastically that he looked like he was having an epileptic fit. The whole scenario was freaking me out.

I realised that Josh had gone to sit slightly away from the group, I went to join him, he was fully coming up and his eyes were like a rabbit caught in headlights, he was all tensed up clenching his hands and jaw. I love a man with a clenched jaw. He said ‘Oi, I had to get away from that lot, they’re ruining my buzz.’ He had spoken my exact feelings. I held his hand and he leaned his head on my shoulder, we talked about how mad and perfect it was that we were both here at the same time, finally we both felt able to relax and get happy. We were there for hours, somehow we’d lost the rest of the crew, but we were secretly kind of glad. We went off to Sankey’s nightclub together and I found £50 quid on the floor as I was walking in. I was with this hot man who I felt a mad drug induced connection with and I’d found fifty quid, this just felt like the best night ever. We left at 6am and I found £100 on the floor as I was walking out. I was happy as fuck, the freaky money finding situation put me on the most euphoric buzz I had ever felt. I was joyful.

We had made a load of random friend’s in Sankey’s, people who we felt like we loved and had known forever, people who had lost their mates and became our mates instead, people who I would never have a conversation with in a million years if I wasn’t off my tits on MDMA but who I fell in love with because I was. MDMA is a beautiful drug if you do it right, I’m not promoting it by the way, it has it’s risky side too and if you’ve never tried it you probably shouldn’t start now, but when it’s done safely, in the right place, at the right time, with the right people, it can make you feel absolutely amazing (it can make you die too, if not done right). It makes you see colours and it makes you feel music so deeply, I once burst into actual tears of joy during a Heartless Crew set at Camden Palace in 1999. The music hit me on an emotional level.

Dizz makes you feel incredibly deep connections with people, you completely relax into the most mad conversations and interactions with complete strangers who feel like best friends. They used to prescribe it to couples in marriage counselling because it made them fall in love again. One of the only problems with MDMA is the come down that you feel after. If I get on it on a Saturday night, by Wednesday I’m feeling suicidal and questioning whether any of my friend’s actually really like me or whether they’re just pretending. It’s like hell on earth, especially once you pass Thirty. I haven’t done it for a while and I’d only do it again if I didn’t have J for a few days after (summer holidays soon come) because coping with a child when you’re on a come down is like self-inflicted torture. But when in Ibiza…..

Josh and I headed to a quiet cove on the beach with our new found friends and we lay on a blanket listening to music, watching the sun rise and smoking weed. It was the most epic experience of my life, the sun rise touched me deeply, we all sat there saying ‘Oh my god this is the best moment of my life’ over and over again. I felt like a powerful and liberated woman, at one with the world. Everything felt so good. We left when the sun got too hot for us to stand and it felt natural to go back to Josh’s apartment, I wasn’t ready to sleep yet (I’m always last woman standing) and I didn’t want to be away from Josh. I liked him so much and he was so fucking sexy, I wanted him inside me and I didn’t think twice about whether it was going to be a one night stand, or whether we’d link up back in London, I didn’t give a shit if he would respect me in the morning. I just wanted to be in his company until this buzz ran out, and the buzz never runs out in Ibiza.

I felt like I had known Josh forever. He made me so comfortable back at his apartment, he let me have a shower and gave me a clean t-shirt to put on and then we lay in his bed talking, laughing and kissing for hours. My body was tingling all over as he kissed and touched me. He went down on me in such a spectacular manner that I wanted to give him a high five when he came up for air. Fingers, tongue, lips, literally, everything in exactly the right place at exactly the right time without any instruction required. That particular head memory has been stored in my wank bank ever since. I often reminisce about it, but I don’t often reminisce about what happened next.

Josh pulled his shorts off and I thought I’d started hallucinating. His willy was enormous. It looked like one of those 1.75cl bottles of Coke. It was long and fat. Obese in fact. This penis looked like it belonged in a zoo. It was absolutely terrifying. Because I was still completely wasted, I was certain that I must not be seeing straight, I must have created this monster in my mind. I kept shaking my head to see if that would readjust my eyes, I must have looked like I had Tourette’s.

He hitched himself between my legs and gently pressed the tip of his dick against me, this was OK, I thought, I can deal with this, but he was actually just pressing against my closed lips, he hadn’t even remotely started yet. It took about ten minutes for him to get a quarter of the tip in, it was painful so that was as far as I let him go and I wouldn’t let him move. I lay there paralyzed with fear, having images of him pulling it out and the entrance to my vagina remaining the same size as it had been when he was there, forever, like the opening of a well. It was too big to go any further in without causing me agony and so I called a halt to proceedings after about 20 minutes of trying. The vision of my stretched out minge had completely bought me down and it all got a bit awkward between us. He was sexually frustrated and I felt like a bit of a twat for not being able to take it. I didn’t actually want to take it though and so I was glad didn’t. I wanted to get back to my hotel to sleep and see my girls. I was in pain and I felt like shit.

Grace had been 5 seconds away from calling Interpol when I came in. It was late afternoon the following day. I’m normally so controlled so they hadn’t expected me to gallivant off for 24 hours, my battery had died so I hadn’t been able to contact them, they thought that I must have been arrested for beating up one of the peanut butter face gang (it says a lot about me that being arrested was their best guess as to where I was, safe guys, safe). I managed to sleep for a couple of hours before we headed to Ocean Beach. I was wearing my treasured white bikini and I thought I looked fucking sensational (until we started taking pics and then I started questioning every part of my face and body because I looked like a baked potato in 98% of them).

We were staying a few miles away in Playa d’en Bossa and so we decided to take a cab down there. I was wearing a kaftan thing with my bikini and it caught as I was getting in the cab so I had one leg out and one leg in, Grace looked at my crotch and gasped. I looked down to see that there was a blood stain on my bright white, brand new bikini bottoms. I was nowhere near my period starting so I knew it was a Josh related bleed. That gargantuan dick had cost me £80, my bottoms were ruined and it wasn’t even remotely worth it. I was devastated on so many levels. I had to go and change. There was no more bleeding after that, it was just one little badly timed bit but the damage was done. I was on a major come down and I cried. Despite the bad end to the night Josh and I actually did stay in touch when we got back to London. We never had sex but we’d hang out, we still do, and I look with pity anytime I see women giving him the heart eyes on Insta, God help their vaginas. I never went near his dick again after that day, he put me off for life.

I’m definitely not equipped for massive dicks but I’m not into small dicks either. Long term I think I’d prefer a man with a small(ish) one than extra-large, if those were my only options. There are limits though. Many moons ago, I met a guy called Dean. Dean looked a bit like Thierry Henry. He was a really sweet, very shy, highly intellectual guy. He made me laugh and he was attractive, but he was acting like he was grateful to me for turning up to our date. He was nervous and flustered. I’m too dominant for a meek guy like that, I start becoming too alpha female and the balance goes off. It’s off putting. I enjoyed hanging out with him though, and I thought I’d give him a chance to be less nervous so I agreed to a second date.

We went to the cinema and then for drinks. We were both a bit pissed by the end of the night and we had a dance in the bar. He couldn’t dance, I didn’t expect him to be able to. He looks like he can’t dance. He tried a couple of whining moves on my bum but it was all awkward and out of rhythm, he was clapping and occasionally shouting ‘Oi Oi’. He was having the time of his life. I started praying frantically that nobody who knew me would walk into the bar at that moment. After we parted he started messaging me saying how he had got a bit turned on when we were dancing. ‘I knew I could feel something (monkey emoji, laughing emoji)’ I replied. I was just trying to gas him up a bit, I knew I didn’t fancy him but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so my plan was just to fizzle out the messages and hope he goes away. I know that’s a coward’s way out but I can’t take sending those ‘I’m not actually feeling you’ texts. At that moment Dean rang me.

‘Why are you lying to me Layla?’

‘Huh?’

‘Layla, I’m going to be completely real with you because I really like you. I’ve got a problem and I don’t know how you’re going to take it…….(long pause for dramatic effect)…….My dick is really small so I know you’re lying about being able to feel it.’

I started laughing, this guy’s got (weird) jokes I thought. Turns out he wasn’t joking. Once Dean managed to convince me that this wasn’t a wind up, we began to have a serious discussion about it. He told me it was really small, he said he didn’t know exactly the length but it was less than 3 inches. He said that it affected him in every aspect of his life, and that he didn’t feel masculine. I felt really sorry for him and I reassured him that I didn’t even like big dicks. Dean then said he wanted to show me a picture of it.

He said that he couldn’t bear to see the look on women’s faces when they see it for the first time in real life and so he preferred to just do it like this. Get it out the way. By this point there was absolutely no way I was ever going to link this weirdo again, but I wanted to see his tiny penis and so I told him that I didn’t mind him sending it to me. We ended the call and about 30 seconds later his pelfie came pinging into my messages. I knew what he meant then, if I’d have seen that for the first time in real life I would not have been able to hide my horror. I was taken aback. It was smaller than my son’s willy when he was first born, he’d removed all of his pubic hair and so it looked like the penis of an 8 week old boy, a poorly endowed 8 week old boy. I was worried about sending it in the group chat in case I got arrested for sharing child porn. It looked like someone had cut a button mushroom in half and placed it on top of 2 small eggs. I could not believe my eyes.

I had to think long and hard before responding. I couldn’t send the heart eyes emoji, or even the eyes, the magnifying glass would have been the most fitting but I didn’t think this was a good time for banter. So I said:

‘You know what Dean, I’m not going to lie, it is small, but you can’t change that. You can only change how you feel about it. You really need to work on that. You’re an amazing guy but the issues you have with this need to be resolved before you can find true love. I don’t think me and you are a match and that’s not because of the size of your dick (it’s because you’re an absolute fruitcake – I thought but didn’t say) and you’ll find an amazing woman one day who will love you for you (google ‘dating sites for women with no vaginas’- I thought but didn’t say) x’

Dean replied with the thumbs up emoji and then a few minutes later ‘I knew it would make you go running (sad face)’. I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to drag it out his pain any longer than I needed to. Dean did have a severe penis disability, there was no way he could have penetrative sex, but if he’d have been confident and swaggerific like Josh (who also has a severe penis disability because he can’t have sex with anyone who hasn’t had 8 children) then I would probably have given him another chance. But he was just too weak and needy, and that was his major downfall, the penis was just the (very, very fine) icing on the cake. Confidence is key. I hope he finds it someday.