It’s a strange thing for me to love Charles Bukowsky, renowned hater of women. And yet from the first time I read his notorious 1978 semi-autobiographical novel Women, I did. It’s a chronicle of abuse and misery. Bukowsky’s character Henry Chinaski is a self-aware, utterly unromantic alcoholic who has cold sexual encounters with women. Chinaski ...
So, we’re having this baby. It’s due in a few weeks and we’re trying to get organized with all...
I recently heard about what is claimed to be the rising phenomenon of Japanese men remaining virgins for longer...
Ladders. Patriarchal conspiracy. I’ll explain… This week I climbed a ladder. I was trying to reach a loft space,...
Dear Madame X, My boyfriend needs to look at porn while we have sex. It bothers me because I...
Mrs. Dalloway is yet another feminist classic that I had to grow into. Wrapped up in Woolf’s instantly recognizable...
Last week saw a Big Thing come to our soggy little island. Well, it was a Big Thing for...
Last weekend I was entertaining a guest, you know, the sort I was planning to have lots and lots...
All little girls want to be princesses… right?! It’s bad enough that toy aisles are separated out by what...
