Sunday, 30 March 2014


11:59, last night.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

"Hello, brother."
"Yo. Talk to me."
"Talk to me. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. I'm in Holloway."
"With a friend."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'll talk to you about it all tomorrow."


15:25, today.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

"Hello, 47!"
"Hey. So we're talking about planning a wedding..."
"Next spring..."
"As you said..."
"Yeah. So I've been thinking about bridesmaids, and I was wondering if you would be my head boy bridesmaid?"
"I don't think men have bridesmaids. I think they have pageboys or ushers."
"Is the term you're looking for best man?"
"I suppose I could do that."
"I'll start writing a speech."

2 minutes later...

"Oh, and... bachelor party. I can't say much, obviously, because [his girlfriend's name] is sitting here beside me, but I think hookers, definitely."
"Goes without saying. I know a few."
"Yeah, I thought you might."
"Okay, well, enjoy your day."
"Yeah, you too."

I don't know which of these was less expected.

Sunday, 23 March 2014

Soft Porn Sexless

"Really?" says Regina Russell.
...or How To Waste Your Time More Effectively Than You Ever Thought Possible.

Out of all the soft porn I've seen, 1999's Dungeon of Desire (one of Surrender's last) is one specific film I have a certain affection for. There are a number of reasons for this: I like the cast (apart from stalwarts like Regina Russell, Mia Zottoli, Amber Newman, Jason Schnuit John Stevens, et al., there are a number of cast members who get to do things without really having sex at all), I like the plot (it's ridiculous, but in a fun way), I like the acting (Regina Russell, in particular, has a pretty believable turn here as put-upon model Jill), and it also has a brilliant lesbian sex scene among other things.

It's probably got more than one lesbian sex scene. I wouldn't really know. I haven't seen it since I was about 17.

Thing is, I spent about an hour yesterday looking for it. Some soft porn's easy to obtain via DVD or downloading; some isn't. While it's relatively easy to find scenes being streamed on Dailymotion or downloadable via sites like CMA, whole films are becoming increasingly harder to come by due to both copyright laws and gradually fading interest. But I rationalised that, since there was once a DVD available, there will have been - at some time or another - a rip of the whole movie, and that it will also have been floating around on the web, and that I should be able to find it.

I found it. And, just because I'm that cool, I decided to watch it during lunch.

Unbeknownst to me (and I've very little idea why), there are two versions of this film. I've seen the tactic used before (in The Exotic Time Machine, which I sold for a tenner), but I've still very little idea of why. What they've done is... wait for it...

...they've cut out all the sex scenes and left the story completely intact.

Okay, now take a while to process that. As I've said, I love the story, the acting's sound and (apart from
This is as explicit as it gets.
a visible boom mike in practically every shot) it's not a badly-done film. But this is marketed as soft porn; there are going to be a multitude of sex scenes in it, and they fill out the film. It's even meant to titillate - that's the whole point of the genre! Some of the scenes even lend themselves to the plot... so that makes no sense either! What we're handed instead of sex scenes is an edited version of the scene, usually lasting about twenty seconds or even less, showing bits of the actors pretending to have sex in a pretty sterile way that may merit a 15 certificate, but certainly not be marketed as softcore in any particular sense.

There's quite a lot of nudity in Dungeon of Desire, which is good, because realistically, we're not going to get much else with this sort of thing, so all the scenes where everyone is gratuitously nude (for the most outlandish reasons - apparently, people need to be naked for magic to work, but I'll let them have that one) keep the thing ticking along nicely with shots of boobs and backs, but nevertheless, I see absolutely no reason why one would even want to machete the sex scenes into small chunks while avoiding anything that contains a bum or a thigh. What, is this the version Jason Schnuit wanted to show his children, or something?

But here's the terrible, horrifying thing about it all.

I'll probably watch it again at some point.

Saturday, 22 March 2014


When I was about 16, I decided to download some porn from the computer in the corner of my bedroom. In all fairness, I'd been downloading porn on it anyway, but instead of having a specific softcore series, film or actor/actress to search for, I opened KaZaA Lite and just put "porn" into the search bar. About three hours later, a list had appeared. I chose a random one and hit "download".

The file was called "Hot anal sex". With the exception of a very brief mention in year 7 biology, anal sex hadn't really been mentioned. I didn't really know how to pronounce it, assuming it began with a hard A (as in "cat"), and didn't even really know what it was. I could guess, due to the word and all, but I'd never seen any of it happening, even in porn - whereas I'm finding it hard nowadays to find any scenes that don't involve the bum being part of the whole shebang in some way. I didn't even find the concept particularly appealing, but my thought process (which amounted to "0MGZ!!! S3KS!!1!!111!1") compelled me to click.

Thus began the download.

About five seconds after I started downloading, I got a message from someone called "hihi". I didn't know anyone named "hihi", so it took me a few seconds before beginning to compose an answer. It was a swift and brief "Hi...?", which I thought was appropriate. It then took me a few more seconds to clock that this was actually a message not through MSN. Hihi was the person who owned the file I was downloading.

"hi do u know the name of the man in this video?" said Hihi.
"Which video?" I said, innocently.
"Hot anal sex."

I quickly checked the preview of the video. I didn't recognise him. It wasn't likely that I would, to be honest; I could name a few softcore actors, but this was "Hot anal sex", and unlikely to feature anyone I'd seen on Bravo after 10pm (although there have been some crossovers - I've seen Tera Patrick in some scenes and I can remember that because I am ridiculous). I told Hihi that I was sorry, I didn't recognise him - I didn't recognise her, either, but I hoped Hihi would be able to find out.

"if u do find out who he is i would like 2 see some pics," replied Hihi. Me being me, I took this as a sign to initiate a conversation, both to pass the time and steer my attention away from the fact that somebody I didn't know was asking me about a male adult star I'd never seen via an illegal program I shouldn't have been running while anal porn was still open on my desktop.

Why is this one incident important? Well, it was the first time I'd really considered the fact that girls watch porn. Hihi was a girl who both watched and loved it, preferring anal stuff. I also hadn't considered the concept of underage people watching porn (I started when I was 12, but I didn't see any hardcore stuff until I was of legal age to actually have sex), but it turned out this girl was 14! Suddenly, I felt illicit. Hihi was from the Netherlands, where - or so I'd heard - there was sex ABSOLUTELY EVERYWHERE and the sex education programme was so good that everyone was talking about sex ALL THE TIME, but that doesn't take anything away from the fact that I was downloading anal porn from a 14-year-old.

I had no idea what to do. I closed the conversation window and sat there just thinking. I'd come far enough to complete the download, even if I was 99% sure I wasn't going to enjoy "Hot anal sex" based upon the preview I'd seen. I was on edge, not wanting to appear rude to Hihi, who had shared so much with a complete stranger via a p2p network. She probably did this a lot. I'd imagine a lot of people did. I didn't tend to - but then again, I mostly downloaded softcore stuff. But... but she was 14. I finished the download, and was about to click off the program before I paused.

I opened a dialogue window to Hihi. "If I find out who this guy is, I'll tell you," I typed at the speed of light, and then closed the program just in case anyone who happened to be standing directly behind me in my locked bedroom at 11pm saw me.

I didn't recognise him, so I never either got back to her or attempted to. But I did try to identify him, actually. Why? Because her one question had piqued my curiosity.

And I like being curious.

Monday, 17 March 2014

The Great ILB Birthday Book Giveaway

[DISCLAIMER: This giveaway competition thingy is over. Thanks to everyone who posted and sorry if you weren't picked out of the hat! Blondieboo3, you won - I need an e-mail address or a Twitter @ for you if you want to claim your books!]

I accidentally (and it was an accident!) made reference to the fact that it was my birthday this morning on Twitter - and, since then, I've been flooded with good wishes from all and sundry. Thank you all, ever so heartily- I didn't even realise anyone liked me at all, never mind this much.

Anyway, before Eroticon I went through my boxes of STUFF underneath my bed, and as a result, I have unearthed from the STUFF a fair collection of unopened books - mostly erotica I have duplicate copies of, and miscellaneous other sexy books.

So I'm giving them away for my birthday!

I have three sets of two books each to give away. If you'd like me to enter you into my fair and impartial (I'll close my eyes and jab with a pencil) competition, then just leave a comment in this post and you may be in the running for getting books!

Disclaimer: one, this ends on Friday because it needs to have an end date; two, if you win, you're going to need to send me your address. I'll destroy it afterwards (the address, not your house), but if you're not okay with that, either don't enter or find some other way to claim your prize.

Okay? Got it? Good! Comment! BOOKS!

Sunday, 16 March 2014

Soft Porn Sunday: Kim Dawson & Bobby Johnston

It's weird, isn't it,when you look through your soft porn collection and find a scene that you sort of thought you knew you had but hadn't really registered? It's also funny, right, when you lazily click through the scene to see if it's worth reviewing and it looks good? And isn't it strange, n'est-ce pas, when you end up watching the scene and find that it's not that good after all? You know that feeling?

Okay, then maybe you don't. I've been doing this for years, whereas you probably have something better to do. I'm drinking tea and watching soft porn. Life's a bitch.

Appearance: I Like To Play Games Too (1999)
Characters: Mona & Dominick




...Hang on a minute, I haven't finished holding my sides from the incredibly intelligent and not-at-all hackneyed gag they've done there, what with calling the second film in a series "...Too". It sounds like "two", you see? Insightful! Inspired! Incredible!


Okay, if I can stop laughing long enough, I'll do the premise. But let's start with a bit of history.

I don't like the original I Like To Play Games, and if you haven't already guessed from the witty title,
Is it just me or does she have four breasts?
this is a direct sequel without many of the main characters. The "games" referred to actually mean a light form of BD/SM, with a few light bondage scenes, candle play and something which doesn't really go as far as to be called submission (but is heading in that direction) - the twist being that the male lead is submissive to the female lead (Lisa Boyle). As I said, I'm not a fan - not because of the subject matter, but because the sex scenes are too short and not really erotic in any way.

I Like To Play Games Too (snicker) introduces a new male lead, played by Bobby Johnston, named Dominick. Yes, I'm aware that's not how you spell "Dominic", but evidently this is meant to be quirky, or somebody would've bothered to check. Not that it matters, really, as all Dominic/k spends his time doing in this film is have sex. I evidently downloaded this scene at some point in history because I like Kim Dawson; I find her scenes to often be stimulating and well-put-together, although as with every bit of softcore, there's a little give and take. This scene does well enough, but maybe... not well enough.

Let's try to explain.

The sex takes place in an office, and it's between Mona, played by Kim Dawson (whose real name is
This scene wasn't erotic enough, so we added some nude art.
Kim Sill, which I didn't know until just now) and Donimic/k, played by Johnston. It's on a fake leather sofa (I'm sure the same one is used in every piece of softcore there is) and it starts with the camera panning down to a close-up of Mona with her breasts exposed. She sports the classic Kim Dawson big-blonde-hair-look and it seems to he shaping up to be a good enough scene.

In fact, if you were to judge this scene in what people are wearing, this wouldn't be too bad. Mona is wearing matching lingerie and stockings, and Dominic/k is wearing a gold watch which he manages to keep on during the sex (I always remove my watch during sex, I don't know about you.). Donimic/k also removes Mona's pants during the necessary "undress a bit" part, which actually lasts 31 seconds, whereas a lot of scenes with this sort of get-up just assume that it's physically possible to penetrate someone through sheer panties if you're wearing hold-ups.

You can't, by the way.

The sex cycles through missionary-ish, doggie-ish, more missionary-ish, sitting-up-doggie-ish, an attempt at a kiss, more missionaryawn, and the post-coital cuddle thingy, all while the film's "other female character with a name", Suzanne (Maria Ford), watches really indiscreetly (seriously, she's just standing there in a doorway!) without changing her face one iota. The wax models in The Day of the Doctor have more expression, for Glod's sake.

For a scene which mostly consists of mugging and two sex positions cycled through relatively quickly,
Damn it, woman! Move!
there's not too much to commend. I mean, everything looks pretty, including all three actors involved plus the d├ęcor (strange picture on the wall notwithstanding) and the clothes that Suzanne's wearing. Mona doesn't take her damn bra off during the whole scene, which annoys me, but at least her underthings match nicely enough. Dominic/k, strangely, has a larger body than a lot of softcore actors, which is a bit of comfort for those of us who could afford to lose weight (example: me), and Mona just looks good.

The problem I have with this is that it's really uninspired. The sex doesn't really go anywhere - it just starts and then stops. Two of my favourite positions to depict are wasted because they're repeated so much, and although a few brave attempts at sex noises are made, there isn't much else. There's not a lot of movement, either - which is a surprise, since every other scene I've seen Kim Dawson is in has quite a lot.

The series that stars her the most (Bedtime Stories) allows for a bit of space - even on fake leather
Help! They've put Miley Cyrus in soft porn!
sofas. In a large bed, with more space to manoeuvre, you've got more opportunities for sex to be lively and interesting. Bedtime Stories makes much better use of the room available and the talents of Kim Dawson, who can pull off exciting and realistic energy in pretending to have sex when she's on top of her game. Here, she's just pressed under Bobby Johnston most of the time, so there isn't much she can do apart from pull faces and moan a bit. It even looks fake, which isn't the point of soft porn, dammit! Throw in some uninspired music with a sax wailing like in every 90s softcore movie and it just feels like a dud scene.

I'm irritated by this not only because it's a bit of a dull scene, but because it's a waste. This could have been so much better had Mona been on top or if they'd transferred the action to somewhere else, even the floor! They don't even show the whole sofa most of the time as nearly every scene is in close-up. It's just not very well thought out, and with just a few adjustments, it could be better. Much better. This was the problem with the first film in the series, however, so it's a bit of a forlorn hope that you're going to get it fixed with the second one. But still.

This scene wouldn't get me to orgasm. That's the final word, really. It might start me off, but it wouldn't finish me off. But that's why it's part of a collection, I suppose!

Saturday, 15 March 2014

Mistress Palm

My girlfriend likes to hold my penis.

Okay, I should probably justify why I'm saying that. In fact, yesterday she herself wrote a post about her positive feelings towards fellatio, and that often starts with a penis in a hand - which she also mentioned. But I'm not talking about that.

There's also "the grasp" - that thing that one does (or one's other one does) to a full and erect penis when it's hard and in need of some attention. The position of the fingers, the feeling of the warm flesh against the palm and the low, sensual throb if you're paying attention... yeah, that's a good feeling. It never fails to get me aroused - I am, for whatever reason, fascinated by my own cock. But I'm not talking about that either.

I'm talking about the times when I'm flaccid and she just... holds me.

We all have our methods of security. I've seen those who suck their thumb. Play with their hair (when I had long hair, I used to chew it - yeah, I was weird as a teenager; weren't we all?). Put hands in pockets. I myself have the habit of putting a finger in my own belly button and taking solace in the sound of sirens. There are those moments - there always are - where there's something you do, perhaps without realising or without any rhyme or reason, which brings you some sort of comfort, security, or serenity. It can be primal. Using your body. And it may seem weird to anyone else, but it's your thing.

For my girlfriend, it's holding my cock.

Obviously, I don't mind this. But I don't feel it as such a sexual thing as it could be. (Although, y'know... it could be.) I'm perfectly okay with my girlfriend touching my cock, but it doesn't always have to lead to sex. Sometimes it doesn't. There's a reassurance there, however, in the fact that she feels safe enough to be able to hold my penis without feeling she has to go any further. It helps her, she has said, feel grounded. Stable. Through the simple act of penis in hand.

It's the little things in life.

Friday, 14 March 2014

"I googled you..."

Among the collection of sessions of wonder that was Eroticon 2014, there was one particular workshop which a lot of people consented would make a good blog post. So please excuse me while I jump on this bandwagon while it's still rolling.

The session in question being Anna Sansom's, entitled "I recognise your vagina... but not your face". I attended merely because of the title, of course - but I'm glad I did, because what ensued was 45 minutes of discussion about sustainability, personal ethics, blogging identity and self-guidelines for sex blogging and writing overall.

I also made everyone laugh by going into rhapsodic detail about how much effort it takes me to HTML up one of my posts before I write the thing. It beats tripping over a chair, I suppose.

Anyway, the main focus of the session was on your own guidelines for sex writing. Anna put us into groups and think about four questions in sequence: what, why, how, what if? Interpret at your leisure, I suppose. As I listened to Jilly and Play With Changes talk about their own hows-and-whys-and-d'youmindifIdon'ts, I scribbled down some ideas myself about what my blogging ethics are, focusing on something I've always been wary of: censorship. Here's what I wrote.

I will not, ever edit or censor what I write here.
This doesn't include proofreading or 'editing' of that nature, such as rewriting paragraphs, although - to be blunt - I don't really do that either. I'd rather get a post out there that's a little raw than just end up with one very polished post. It doesn't work for everyone, but each to their own (that's what's great about blogging!).
However, I stick to my guns about not censoring what I write, either for my own or someone else's benefit. I wouldn't delete a post because my opinion's changed; I wouldn't shy away from broaching a subject I really shouldn't; I definitely wouldn't censor myself. I spend long enough fighting against censorship to do it to myself... and this is a sex blog; why would I?

Because I don't agree with censorship anyway. I mean, to be honest, I don't imagine a lot of people reading this will.
My mother appears to be for censorship, although I'm not sure why. I managed to talk her round once, but she's difficult to crack. I don't know if she wants to routinely control the share of information everywhere, but she has expressed the desire to delete all the porn from the Internet at one point because "it's degrading to women" - a strange sentiment from someone who's been a lifelong Labour supporter and claims to advocate free speech.
If nothing else, her attitude provides a polar opposite to my attitude, and that is a daily reminder why I don't censor myself.
"If censorship is the answer... it was a bloody stupid question." - Zak Jane Kier

I do this by writing what I want to write (or what I feel I need to write), even if it's not too advisable to write it.
This has gotten me into trouble a few times, although never too deeply - the worst times being when someone takes something I say in jest as being something that I actually believe. It's difficult to convey sarcasm over the internet without using a tongue smiley, and I've been trying to cut down on those. I don't mean to inflame, despite not wanting to censor myself as above, although I'd like to think that my views aren't particularly inflammatory by virtue of being an ILB!
Nevertheless... I've written posts about paedophilia, Christianity, the benefits of having a foreskin, feminism (or the misnomer thereof), and other things which I know not everyone will agree with. But then you can't please all the people all the time.
Plus, it's not my aim to please everyone. I love you all: that doesn't mean I'll share your opinion!

This is something that links in with my previous answers, because (as I've just indicated) there's a lot of stuff that I've written that may well get me into trouble if I were exposed... although not as much as the stuff other people write. Mia More and Emily Dubberley's "Talking to the Press" session covered the subject of anonymity and outing, which got me thinking about this: do I have, as it were, an exit strategy?
Yes, I do. I always have.
My exit strategy is this: don't do anything. I'm not high-profile enough for my unmasking to make any massive ripples, although it may not be too good for me. But I'd like to think that I'd just continue doing what I do - writing these posts as I have since 2007, hardly mentioning the fact that my true identity's out there. That's what I've always thought I'd do in the event. Of course, this is all theory - if such a thing ever happens I'd have to see what the best course of action is - but I like the idea of continuing as if nothing had happened.

My real name isn't important. I am ILB. And that's enough.

Wednesday, 12 March 2014


And so Eroticon 2014 happened. If you don't know what that is, you probably didn't intend to land on this blog, but please do stay. We have cookies. At least, we did... but then I ate them.

Great start, ILB. Very well done.

Since everyone else has been doing it, here's my smushy OMGZ I LUV U ALL post. The organiser (the fantastic Ruby Kiddell) and the ones who ran the sessions (Molly! Lucy! Cara! Gryph! Harper! Michael! Ruby! etc.) deserve praise, adulation, and probably many, many cookies, providing I don't eat those too.

But what about the delegates? Those salt-of-the-earth bloggers and writers who make up the motley array of colours that are the ones benefiting from this smorgasbord of sexual delights? On the last night, I made good use of the #Eroticon2014 hashtag on Twitter and gushed all over a selection of the delegates I love the most. (This excludes me. I don't love me nearly enough.)

"Aaaaand in lieu of a proper round-up," I wrote, "here are some impressions from Eroticon 2014..."

@JillyBoyd is a great girlfriend and floats on the ceiling after sex...

@BeingBlacksilk is cooler, more sharp and sexy than ever. And cheeky as fuck.

@ladypandorah is an oasis of calm in the raucous chaos that is Eroticon...

@DirtyLittleW is smiley, happy and a welcome sight...

@girlonthenet is witty, pretty, friendly and pleasantly filthy....

@LoveLustLondon is one to drink with!

@PlayWithChanges isn't scary at all...

@SexwithRose couldn't get any more geeky if she tried!

@CJForrestAuthor is the best of company, with a smart look and infectious laugh...

...and @EA_unadorned is just great.

And that's only ten. There are more, much more, all interlocking in this woven tapestry that okay that's enough ILB stop making metaphors and stop writing this post.

There's more to come. But much love to those mentioned above. And everyone else, really.

Tuesday, 11 March 2014

From chaos comes beauty

When all is said and done, there's nothing left to say or do.

...Which isn't really relevant. Not all was said or done. We'd done a lot - pre-conference drinks, the first night; breakfast, sessions, lunch, sessions, the cocktail party (which, apparently, went on much longer than it did for us). The second night.

Bristol lay before us, a panorama of lights and colour. From our perch in the hotbed of sexual tension that is the Radisson Blu, this seemed like the perfect moment, were it not for the fact that I was about three stone heavier, full of deep-fried Camembert and pistachio nuts. But I could see past that. The problem was that I just wasn't in the mood. I was sad, although I'm not entirely sure why. I'm not usually sad at Eroticon... well, not all the time, anyway. This was the golden opportunity - the time, the place, the bed - for hotel sex. And it just, for that moment, looked like it wasn't going to happen.

But that was just a moment. It did happen.

It was a much bigger bed than the effort we're sleeping on at home, so we had more space to - shall we say - play with. Or play on. There was certainly enough space for her to balance on her hands and knees while I caressed and kissed her back and behind, followed by working my tongue down her crack and over her wet pussy lips. There was even enough space for me to sit up comfortably while doing this, a luxury not afforded to me in any old bed (and certainly not on our usual one. I'm starting to think that Radisson Blu do this sort of size deliberately).

There was even a solid enough wall for me to push one of my legs against. I needed to push my leg against it, to be fair, because of the angle I was at. It helped, however, giving me enough thrust as I... well... thrust. I'd never done it like this before, my legs splayed as far as possible without locking myself into being a right-angle, while engaged in a motion which can only be gently described as "slamming". She certainly seemed to be enjoying it, anyway, judging by the things she was saying, such as "lflsgwjbgkb", "eghspgpwh" and "unicorns!" One of those is false, but I'm hoping you'd get the idea. I, of course, hadn't a clue what she was on about, but I think it meant "keep going".

So I did.

And I continued to do so for, you know, quite a while. Perhaps a while longer than I'd originally intended to, but then these things never exactly go to plan. As I felt her contract around me and I let out something between a yelp, a scream and a cry for help, I came to the realisation that this was what I'd been doing wrong all those years. I hadn't been having sex on hotel beds. Damn... this is what was missing? I wasn't even aware anything was missing until that one moment.

I went for lunch today with Rose and Charlotte J. Forrest. Loud sex may have been mentioned. Rose may have said "that was you?" at one point. But I'm making no claim, as I'm above such fripperies.

Although it did bring back that memory... the memory that I cared to share. The memory that, a fair while after I'd thought that it wasn't going to happen, I was lying on my back, on our bed, in a hotel room, feeling the lights of Bristol smiling indulgently up at me as I tried to deduce a way to get my girlfriend down from the ceiling.

Monday, 3 March 2014

Familial vs. Familiar

"I had a terrible weekend."
"Oh! What happened?"
"I found out that my partner... you know, my partner?"

I recoiled slightly at the use of the word 'partner'. I still have bad memories of 14-year-old girls using it in lieu of 'boyfriend'. Still, I wasn't in the mood to argue. She's at liberty to use any word she wants for her boyfriend.

"Yeah, I know. Your boyfriend."
"His nan doesn't like me."
"Oh, that sucks. Sorry about that, really."
"It just doesn't make sense! Everybody likes me!"

She's not wrong about that. I have yet to meet anyone that doesn't like her. The fact that she's managed to stick in her job for over a month is staggering. I've been in this place since the beginning of 2013, but then again, I'm okay where I am. Ambitious people get out of there as soon as they can find something else. We truly have a superhuman here.

"It's not even as if I'm one of those girls!"
"Those girls?"
"You know, one of those girls!"
"What girls?"
"Those girls with really short skirts and basically nothing on top..."
"What, go-go dancers?"
"No - I mean those girls with orange make-up..."
"Ah! Oompa-Loompas! They're not girls, and anyway, in the book they were..."
"No - I mean they wear all this fake tan and no underwear..."
"Ah! The Only Way Is Essex!"
"I'm not one of them!"

Of course she isn't. She's Spanish. Essex isn't in Spain. Still, I sympathised with her. It's happened to me, too.

"I sympathise with you," I said. "It's happened to me, too. My nan's a bit of a judge. She didn't like my previous girlfriends."
She noted the plural. "Girlfriends? How many have you had?"
"Four," I admitted. "Four long-term girlfriends. I haven't been very lucky particularly in the past."
"That's far too many!" she ejaculated. "In my country, three is the top limit!"
"It's not a matter of choice! You just try and find your love where you can and hope that your luck holds out!"
"I know - that's what I do. It's just that a lot of people in this country don't go straight for that. They tend to have... a bit of fun first, you know what I mean?"
"Yes," I said brightly. "I know exactly what you mean."

I may never get the chance to tell her that, the first time we met, my immediate thought was that she looked exactly like someone I used to have cybersex with.

But you can't blame me. I was just having a bit of fun.