Is it weird if Dodgeball is the best date I've ever been on?
‘Oh right, yeah – you’re the blogger, right?’ he said to me. I hate that question. I often don’t like meeting people, boys, (men), when I know they’ve read this here blog, because it’s so easy to make snap judgements on what I’m about. I do, after all, say the word “vagina” a lot, and have a whole section dedicated to my poop stories . The bright pink box in the sidebar that says “I’m fat! (and still get laid)” means you’d be forgiven if thoughts inclined a particular, southerly, way. I try not to mention what I write about, if I can – not when I first meet someone (men). I nodded with a Joey Potter half smile. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s me.’ I did an awkward chortle. ‘Not sure if I can look you in the eye if you’ve been through my archives , though.’ This guy probably thought me ridiculous. A second chap, the one who organised everything, chimed in as he threw a ball up and down. Up, catch. Up, catch. Up, catch. ‘I read your blog too. Vagina and all that, innit?’ I opened my mouth to res...