No relationship is experienced in the same way by the people involved. We can’t know each other’s thoughts; we can’t hear each other’s hearts when they are beating fast. When we fall for someone, when the fact that they exist crushes us, we often don’t know anything about them, but we pretend that we can find out.

I was asked recently about the role that social media plays in our crushes, and what it was like before we had access to the faces, captions and tagged displays of the people we were crushing on. I grew up in the 80s and 90s, and bought my first smartphone in 2009, when I was 25. I feel lucky, because my early crushes were entirely nebulous—there was no way to know anything beyond what I was shown in real life. The yearning was analogue.

These days, we can burrow down into the mystery of someone we might have feelings for, trying to dig up every worm. Some of us believe that this can dilute or intensify the experience, and it can, but not in the ways we imagine.

In my day job as a counsellor and social worker, I have worked with many people addicted to escaping their realities. Humans can’t always cope with what we have been through, and the ongoing effects of trauma and mental illness can lead to addiction. Escape can be found through our phones, the internet and social media, just as it can be found in alcohol, drugs and sex.

When I started to notice my own reliance on my phone, I also started to write a character who was consumed by hers. The phone of my new novel Worry Doll’s protagonist, Heloise, is her best friend and her worst enemy. She picks it up and puts it down, her use unmanageable. She tries to make rules for herself and breaks them. In the same way Heloise is addicted to love, she is addicted to checking and scrolling. She wants love, connection, approval and reassurance, but she is looking for it in places it can’t be found. Interactions with her phone and her crush mimic the experiences she desires, becoming obsessions that take her away from reality.

Like alcohol or drugs, many of us have become addicted to our phones: the scrolling, the notifications, the endless stimuli. Our brains have become reliant on these pops of dopamine. If we put our phone away, we are left with nothing but ourselves. In the throes of a crush, we search for digital intimacy. Perhaps there is no such thing.

When writing Worry Doll, I wanted to explore the way a crush can take over our consciousness and render us insane. The characters abandon themselves for the unknown quantity of another, but the sacrifice plays with their realities, leading the reader to question their own. I wanted the book to read like a horror movie: without the blood and guts but with all of the perversion.

I recently watched Obsession, the new independent horror movie starring Inde Navarrette as the most deliciously unhinged girlfriend I’ve ever witnessed. When Bear (Michael Johnstone) makes a wish using a cursed novelty item, the One Wish Willow, from a woo woo store, he asks for what we have all wanted—requited love. His wish comes true, but it’s not a happy thing. He is cornered and haunted by the very fantasy he indulged for so long.

The movie says, in no uncertain terms, that having a crush on someone is a figment of the imagination. It reminds us that we can’t understand or control the way another person feels about us, or how they see the world. It achieves what I hope to achieve with my book: a blurring of what is possible in order to focus on what is not. The exaggeration of yearning, obsession and forgetting creates a version of the fantasy world we have all lived in.

Perhaps this is why it feels so breathless, so urgent, so delulu, to have a crush on someone—and why we will go out of our way to feel close to them, even if that means rewatching their Instagram story over and over. Our body starts to panic because it doesn’t know what might happen and can’t find out, despite how much we try. We have all gone out of our minds just to see their face again.

Worry Doll by Laura McPhee-Browne is out now

From Splitsville to Lily Allen’s tell-all album, ethical non-monogamy has been having a bit of a PR crisis. Open relationships and swinging are often portrayed as messy, doomed, or a marriage on the brink of collapse. So when I sat down to watch The Invite—Olivia Wilde's new dinner-party comedy in which an ethically non-monogamous couple propositions their neighbours—I expected more of the same. I was wrong.

Without spoiling what happens, The Invite gives ENM the nuanced portrayal it rarely gets on screen. The story follows two couples whose dinner descends into arguments, flirtation and, eventually, a proposition. Yet, for once, the open couple (played by Penélope Cruz and Edward Norton) aren't the dysfunctional one. Instead, it's the supposedly "normal" monogamous pair (Olivia Wilde and Seth Rogen) whose relationship begins to unravel.

It doesn't suggest ethical non-monogamy is easier than monogamy, nor that one relationship model is inherently better than another. What it does do is resist the simplistic stereotypes that have dominated portrayals of open relationships for decades.

"For decades, open relationships have shown up on screen as a shorthand for chaos, imminent betrayal, or a marriage in crisis," explains Ruby Rare, Intimacy Expert at Feeld. "We rarely see them simply existing, how they're actually negotiated and experienced. It's refreshing to see The Invite, a glossy Hollywood production, flip this script, with the non-monogamous couple portrayed as having the healthier and happier relationship dynamic."

As someone who has dated people in open relationships, I know firsthand how often ethical non-monogamy is misunderstood. As open relationships, swinging, and polyamory become more visible, it feels more important than ever to move beyond sensationalism and ask what these relationships actually look like in practice.

So I spoke to four people living in ethical non-monogamy about the realities rarely shown on screen.

"People are not worried about sex—they're worried about what sex means"

Ben and Olivia have been together for two years. Ben is also married, and his wife and children have met Olivia, who also has a partner. "We operate a kitchen table style polyam where everyone knows each other and would hang out independently too," Ben explains.

He didn't grow up believing ethical non-monogamy was even an option. "I grew up in a very heteronormative culture, where the only exposure I can remember growing up was when my parents mentioned their coworkers had tried swinging and it had destroyed their marriages. Not exactly a glowing endorsement."

Like many people practising ethical non-monogamy, his understanding developed gradually rather than overnight. It was his wife's desire to explore her sexuality that first prompted them to reconsider what their relationship could look like, beginning with a threesome before eventually dating other people independently.

"I won't lie, there followed a period of unlearning, of understanding what each of our triggers and insecurities were," he says. "People are not worried about sex; they're worried about what sex means, about being abandoned, about not being loved. Monogamy or polyamory are not better or worse than each other, they are just different, but what polyamory does is force you to confront insecurities, to explore yourself and for your partner to do the same."

It's a perspective rarely reflected in mainstream storytelling. While films often treat non-monogamy as inherently dramatic, Ben describes something far less sensational: the ongoing work of communication, self-reflection and emotional honesty.

"Mainstream media tends to focus on it being an oddity, at the fringes of society, filled with strange, ugly queer people," he says. "There is also an obsession with ENM done wrong and failing… this does happen, but by people who were never ENM in the first place and just wanted to sleep around and didn't care if it hurt people."

That gap between lived experience and cultural representation is precisely what The Invite begins to challenge. Rather than presenting openness as evidence that a relationship is failing, it allows its characters the emotional complexity that monogamous couples have long been afforded on screen.

"Ethical non-monogamy isn't a band-aid"

Olivia came to ENM from a very different starting point: a long-term relationship in which she began to question whether exclusivity was her only option and a desire to explore her interest in women.

"I feared we'd have to break up if I wanted to do this," she says. Instead, her partner suggested an open relationship, something she hadn’t even considered possible."I was so relieved and grateful because I was deeply in love with them and didn't want to break up," she explains. "I had always been attracted to multiple people but had avoided exploring these connections for fear of hurting people. Now I had the opportunity… I dove into learning about how to do it conscientiously."

Like Ben, Olivia describes ethical non-monogamy not as the absence of commitment, but as a relationship structure that demands more intentional communication than many people realise. And while mainstream portrayals often frame open relationships as a last-ditch attempt to save something broken, she believes that's one of the biggest misconceptions.

"If you're considering opening things up, make sure you address relational problems before getting involved with other people. ENM is not a band-aid. Be as open and upfront as you can be."

She also challenges the idea that jealousy is inherently incompatible with non-monogamy: “Jealousy often comes from a place of fear; consider why you’re feeling it and what you need.” Rather than pretending jealousy doesn't exist, she says ethical non-monogamy has taught her to examine where those feelings come from instead of treating them as evidence that the relationship itself is failing.

And while ENM is often portrayed as emotionally volatile or unstable, she describes something more grounded. What’s missing from most depictions, she argues, is the “wonderful community that comes with being polyamorous as well.”

It's another aspect of ethical non-monogamy that The Invite hints at, but which popular culture has rarely been interested in exploring. Conflict makes for compelling cinema; healthy communication rarely does.

Redefining what commitment looks like

If Ben and Olivia arrived at ethical non-monogamy through existing relationships, Vic's experience began from a different place altogether. She was single when she first started dating someone who was also seeing other people. “It really didn't bother me. That felt refreshing and right for where I was,” she says. “I was getting to know this person with low pressure and without the relationship escalator ringing in my ear.”

For Vic, stepping outside the traditional expectation that every successful relationship should move through the same milestones allowed her to recognise patterns she'd previously struggled with.

"It set up the conditions to create a loving relationship that I have been in for the past six months. I struggled with losing myself in relationships and forgiving poor behaviour before. It was linked to a feeling of low self-worth."

What often gets lost in conversations about ENM, Vic suggests, is that it isn’t about replacing commitment, but redefining what commitment looks like. “My girlfriend and I have a very fulfilling sex life, but there are things I enjoy that she doesn't. She doesn't expect me to be fulfilled by one person, and I don't expect that either.”

Still, she is clear that intention matters. “For me, wanting to experience new things is such a normal part of life… I'm still a full human who needs to show up for people who are already in my life.”

Like many people practising ethical non-monogamy, Vic has encountered assumptions from people who know little about it. In her first polyamorous relationship, she told colleagues about her relationship, only for one to describe it as a "porn star relationship."

She believes media portrayals have helped reinforce those misunderstandings. "It's often sensationalised and misrepresents the power dynamics. Often, it is one person wanting it and the other acquiescing, or it's adding a third to an existing couple. Not everyone dates together in ENM. I date separately."

Why does popular culture still get ethical non-monogamy wrong?

Dylan* came to polyamory through a relationship with someone who was already practising ethical non-monogamy. Looking back, he believes that made the transition significantly easier than trying to open up an existing relationship.

"Polyamorous dating as a single person is much easier than trying to open up a previously closed relationship. The more variables you're dealing with at once, the more difficult it can be."

Across all these experiences, a pattern emerges: ENM is rarely about casual excess or emotional detachment, and yet, most depictions still fall back on familiar tropes. Dylan notes that many narratives are “written by people who have no personal experience of poly relationships,” which leads to predictable framing: “it being all about sex, rather than companionship” or a default “regular couple” structure where secondary partners are emotionally flattened out of the story.

What’s missing, in other words, is not drama, but accuracy. And as ENM becomes more visible in culture, from celebrity narratives to films like The Invite, the question is no longer whether it exists on screen, but whether it can be shown without being reduced. Ethical non-monogamy is certainly not the easy choice, but for many it’s the right one. It’s time we show healthy and committed polyamorous couples onscreen and stop reducing them to punchlines or plot twists. We need to start treating ENM as what it already is for many people: just another way of doing relationships, with all the complexity that implies.

*Names changed

When Milly Goldsmith uploaded a TikTok describing herself as “chronically single”, she thought a handful of people might relate. Instead, millions watched, and thousands of women flooded the comments to admit they'd never had a boyfriend either, confessing feelings they'd not shared out loud: that they felt left behind, embarrassed or convinced something must be wrong with them.

For Goldsmith, the response was a revelation. For years, she'd believed she was the only woman approaching 30 who'd never experienced romantic love. Instead, she’s since been called the voice of a generation and “the Gen Z Bridget Jones”.

Here, she reflects on shame, loneliness, people-pleasing and grieving the life she thought she'd have by now, and explains why she's finally stopped seeing being single as her greatest failure.

What It Feels Like To Have Never Had A Boyfriend

As told to Mischa Smith

I always thought getting a boyfriend was something that would just happen. It seemed like one of those milestones everyone reached without really thinking about it, like learning to drive or moving out. Everyone around me just seemed to find someone naturally, so I assumed the same thing would happen to me.

It wasn't until I was about 18 that I realised maybe it wasn't going to be that straightforward. By the end of school, I'd never had a boyfriend. I'd barely spoken to many boys, and all of my friends were starting relationships. At first, it was just something I noticed in the back of my mind, but over the years, that feeling slowly turned into fear.

I got to university and still hadn't had a boyfriend. I hadn't even had a situationship, and the longer I stayed single, the more it became my normal. Being independent became my comfort zone, so the idea of letting somebody into my life started to feel unfamiliar, and because it felt unfamiliar, it also felt frightening.

Even now, relationships are still this huge unknown to me because I've never experienced anything different. Love is such a huge shared human emotion, and I haven't really experienced that side of it. For something that's such a fundamental part of so many people's lives, it can feel quite isolating. There's definitely a sense of fear, but there's also a huge amount of FOMO.

I think the turning point came after Christmas in 2024. I come from a family of four siblings, and Christmas has always been loud. There are loads of people in the house, presents everywhere, food everywhere, games, and conversations. I absolutely love Christmas. But that year, all of my siblings were with their partners and for the first time ever, it was just my parents and me.

If I'd had a partner, I would've been doing exactly the same thing as everyone else. Instead, I felt like I'd been left behind. Not just within my family, but somehow in life itself. I remember sitting there thinking: why? Why does this seem so easy for everybody else? Why can't I experience something that everyone else seems to experience naturally?

I'd been going to therapy already, but I'd never really spoken about being single. I think part of that was because I hadn't fully acknowledged how much it affected me, and the moment I said it out loud, it would become real. It would stop being something I could blame on bad luck or bad dates or bad men.

Deep down, I think I knew there was something about me that I needed to understand, but I wasn't ready to face it yet. Then I started journaling. I'd never really journaled before, but suddenly I had all these emotions that needed somewhere to go. There was a lot of crying, a lot of confusion, and a lot of anger.

I kept thinking: why me? As I wrote, I slowly started connecting the dots. One of the biggest revelations was learning about attachment styles. I'm an anxious avoidant, which is probably one of the worst combinations if you're trying to build relationships. I need enough space to realise I actually want somebody, but by the time I've taken that space, I've usually pushed them away.

To someone else, it looks like I'm not interested; to me, it feels like I finally feel safe enough to let them in, but by then, they're already gone. That cycle suddenly explained so much about my life.

One of the strangest parts of all this has been talking about it publicly. When I first made a TikTok about being "chronically single", I genuinely thought people would think I was weird. I honestly didn't know anybody else who'd reached 28 without ever having a proper relationship.

I uploaded the video without overthinking it, which is unusual for me because I'm a perfectionist. I just wrote honestly about how I felt. Then it exploded. Suddenly, thousands of women were commenting, saying they felt exactly the same way, which completely changed my perspective because I'd spent years believing I was the odd one out.

The more I started understanding myself, the more I realised this wasn't just about dating, it was about the way I'd learnt to protect myself. One thing therapy made me think about was how difficult I find vulnerability.

Saying "I love you" to my parents honestly feels like saying a swear word. Everything in my body just tenses up.

It feels like I'm stripping away every layer I've built around myself. Every wall I've spent years putting up suddenly comes crashing down. They're only three words, but they carry so much weight. I just haven't had enough practice saying them to make them feel normal.

Even now, after my parents have read the chapter in my book where I write about this, my whole body tenses up knowing they know how I feel. There's still a small version of me that's trying to protect herself.

Growing up, love wasn't really expressed through words in our family; it was always through actions. My mum would cook dinner, and she'd give me a hug. My dad would give me £10 after a dance exam and tell me he'd been proud of me, that was our version of saying, I love you.

I know my parents love me; I've never doubted that for a second. It was just something that went unsaid. Now that I'm older, I can see how growing up in an environment where we didn't verbalise those feelings has shaped me. It makes sense why opening up to people doesn't always come naturally. It's something I'm still trying to unlearn.

With some people, saying "I love you" feels completely natural. One of my best friends says it to me all the time, so I say it back really easily because I know there isn't any risk. I know it'll be received in exactly the way I intend it.

The same is true with my nieces; I'm always telling them how loved they are because I want them to grow up hearing those words. Maybe there's a part of me that's trying to give them something I would've found easier to hear growing up.

I don't think I'm broken; I just think some relationships require me to unlearn habits that have been there for a very long time. The same thing happened with people-pleasing; for years, I thought I was simply being kind. I thought changing my plans to suit somebody else or making myself endlessly available was just what nice people did. I didn't even know what boundaries were. Therapy taught me that being a kind person and being a people pleaser aren't the same thing.

When it came to dating, I'd let people move dates three or four times because I didn't want them to think I was difficult. I'd convince myself it was absolutely fine. Now I realise I could've said, "No, this day works, or it doesn't." That isn't rude; that's self-respect. I think there were lots of moments where I could've respected myself more.

For a long time, I worried more about whether someone else was annoyed with me than whether I was happy. I was constantly moulding myself to fit other people. Eventually, I had to ask myself a really uncomfortable question: If I'm changing myself depending on who's in the room… Who am I?

For years, I believed being single meant I'd failed somehow, that there must be something wrong with me. Now I see being single completely differently.

It's actually the default; it's where we all begin. It's given me an incredible amount of independence: I can travel on my own, spend weekends on my own, enjoy my own company, and I know myself incredibly well. Some people joke that maybe I know myself too well now.

Of course, there are moments where I think it would be lovely to have someone to book holidays with, cook dinner with or go to the cinema with. I'm still human, I still want love. But I don't see being single as something that's wrong with me anymore.

That's probably been the biggest shift of all.

I’ve been keeping a secret for a decade. It’s about an experience I had in 2016, and a story I wasn’t sure I’d ever tell.

It’s been 10 years since my brush with reality TV, when I joined Channel 5’s dating show Strip Date. After it aired, I wanted to put as much distance as possible between myself and the experience. But after serious allegations this week against former Married At First Sight contestants, I’ve found myself reflecting on what my own experience taught me — not only about sexism, but about an industry that has repeatedly prioritised entertainment over women’s wellbeing.

You might struggle to recognise the person in the image below, as I certainly do. I was about three seconds away from bursting into tears, and I’m amazed that the professional shot is still being used as a placeholder for the show today.

BBC Panorama reports allegations from two women who say they were raped during filming of Married At First Sight UK. While the TV industry’s shocked response may seem sincere, the entertainment industry has consistently prioritised ratings over women’s safety.

Shows such as Love Island, Love is Blind and MAFS Australia have all faced allegations of misconduct and poor aftercare. Many of these formats are exploitative by design. The MAFS contestant the BBC called “Lizzie” said her screen partner threatened, “You can’t say no, you’re my wife”.

If a show asks contestants to share a bed the day they meet, it’s hardly surprising that those environments can become unsafe. No amount of vetting can ethically guarantee protection when vulnerability itself is part of the entertainment.

My experience on Strip Date was nowhere near comparable to the allegations surrounding MAFS, but it left me deeply uncomfortable. In hindsight, the reason I can share this unlikely backstory is that it’s become much harder to ignore the impact it had on my feminist values today.

I’m now a feminist activist and founder of the platform Cheer Up Luv, which documents survivors’ experiences of sexual harassment in public spaces. But back in 2016, I was a newly single 21-year-old in my final year of university, making a project about dating culture.

My tutor suggested I go one step further and try to get onto a real dating show and document the whole thing to bolster my portfolio. Producers casting for a new programme were looking for applicants with a “unique style”. My tutor sent me the details, I applied, and landed a place on the show.

To my great relief, there was no actual stripping involved. You did, however, have to dress a stranger as your “ideal date”, go on a blind date, and then there was a “big reveal” where you dressed normally. The more visually opposite the pairings, the better television. The question the show clumsily asked was: if you strip away someone's identifying characteristics — their fashion, tattoos, hairstyles, piercings — and swap their identity, how does that affect attraction?

At the time, I had no understanding of what made “good television” or how storylines could be manipulated and influenced behind the scenes. Before filming, producers begged me to come on a specific day because they had found someone “perfect”. Naively, I thought they meant perfect for me. In reality, they meant perfect TV.

Contestants were kept apart throughout production. We travelled in different cars, stayed in different parts of the hotel and were shepherded separately to different parts of the studio. Blissfully unaware of what was going on behind the scenes, I began getting myself ready for the “big reveal”. Unbeknownst to me, in a different corner of the studio, producers were plotting something very different and were encouraging my date to perform an elaborate reaction.

Standing behind the curtain, I was excited and nervous. It never crossed my mind that the opposing difference wouldn’t be our style, but our inherent values. As the curtain dropped, so did my date’s face, and I was surprised to see a relatively normally dressed man. Laughing as I approached him for a hug, he promptly declined and offered me his hand instead, despite having hugged me the previous day. He wasted no time telling me he would cross the street if he saw me in public.

From the “reveal” onwards, I was treated like a different person. Off camera, he didn’t acknowledge me; when the cameras were on, he was all “I-wouldn’t-be-seen-dead-with-you”. He refused to even meet my eye on the train home. I had taken part in this strange show for a bit of a laugh, but his motives, I couldn’t work out.

That was until the show aired, and my friends alerted me to some tweets. It turned out my date and his friends live-tweeted the show, trolling me and trying to make a viral moment out of his five minutes of fame. The double whammy of a public shaming, followed by a swathe of online harassment, opened my eyes to the double standards women face.

It also left me with uncomfortable questions about how contestants are manipulated for “good television” — questions many viewers may now be asking of reality TV more broadly.

I’m immensely grateful I didn’t have social media at the time, and that I got off lightly by comparison. I’m also sure that going on Strip Date contributed significantly to my life’s work campaigning against sexism.

It’s only now that I can take the pieces of the puzzle and put them together. I can make sense of something I never wanted to acknowledge. Importantly, I can forgive my younger self and my shame, and tell that young woman that one day she will channel that rage and turn it into something powerful.

I asked him for a ride home. It was late, the wedding was winding down, and Uber’s surge pricing had turned a ten-minute journey into an extortionate sum I wasn’t willing to pay. He had been avoiding me all night. At one point, he physically stopped someone from leaving us alone together.

He told me to give him a moment. A few minutes later, when he thought I wasn’t looking, I watched him run out of the venue. That was when it became clear.

For most of my life, I have been preoccupied with whether the men I was interested in liked me. That question shaped everything. It made me attentive, accommodating, and at times, anxious. I learned how to present myself in ways that felt appealing, how to read signals, and how to adjust in order to be chosen. What I hadn’t learned was how to ask a much simpler question: Do I like him?

Women are not taught to centre their own desire. In dating, being chosen is often framed as the reward. We are taught to interpret male interest as validation, and to treat that validation as something meaningful. The result is that our attention is directed outward. We learn to assess how we’re being perceived, rather than how we actually feel.

By the time I met a man I truly liked, that pattern was still intact. We were introduced through mutual friends, and the connection felt easy. There was alignment across everything, from intellect to faith. What drew me in most was his ability to hold nuance. As a Christian woman, I had struggled to meet men who didn’t carry rigid, often harmful views of women while still claiming values like kindness, love, and patience. He seemed different, and more importantly, capable.

So I responded in the way I always had. I paid attention to whether he liked me. I analysed his behaviour, waited for signs of interest, and adjusted myself accordingly. The question of whether I liked him wasn’t something I thought to interrogate.

That changed during a conversation at Christmas. He told me he had chosen women out of duty before, not because he genuinely liked them. They were “good girls,” he said, but he felt nothing. He told me it was different with me, although he could not explain how.

I had spent years in therapy, and enough time dating to recognise patterns when I saw them. What he described was not a one-off. It was a pattern, and without a real commitment to change, it wasn’t going to shift.

I could see where it came from: a history of emotional neglect, shaped further by social and cultural conditioning. But understanding it didn’t change the outcome. I knew I would not be the one to fix it. Women are often expected to take on the emotional labour in relationships. Though invisible, it’s a constant burden that easily leads to exhaustion and resentment.

This labour can look like translating someone’s behaviour back to them in gentler terms, softening your own disappointment so they don’t feel criticised, asking the right questions in the right tone so that they might begin to understand themselves. It is, in many ways, the work of building a bridge between who someone is and who they might become, then waiting there while they decide whether to cross.

For a long time, I believed that was part of the connection. This time, I didn’t.

As bell hooks writes in The Will to Change, many men are socialised away from their emotional lives, taught to suppress or fear their feelings altogether. I felt the pull to stay and understand, but I also recognised what that would require of me, and that recognition allowed me to cut contact.

Seven months later, we again found ourselves at the same wedding. I felt a flicker of nerves when I saw him. We had spoken briefly a few months earlier, and he had told me he still really liked me, that I didn’t understand the depth of his feelings.

As he approached me to say hello, he seemed uncomfortable, and as the evening unfolded, the same pattern became clear. He kept his distance, avoided direct interaction, and found ways to maintain space between us.

And at the end of the night, when I asked for a ride home, he left. Watching him walk away, I realised something with a new clarity. I had liked him fully, and more than I had liked anyone before. But liking someone isn’t enough to build anything real.

For a long time, I had mistaken proximity for connection and attraction for compatibility. When you are not centred in your own experience, it’s easy to overlook that. You make allowances. You fill the gaps with someone’s potential. And slowly, you lose your ability to trust yourself.

Unlearning that isn’t immediate. It happens in small moments, in decisions where you choose to pay attention to your own discomfort instead of explaining it away. For me, it started with a different question: Do I actually like him? Not the idea of him, or who he might become, but who he is in front of me.

Once I started asking that question, everything else followed. I noticed how he spoke, how he listened, how he responded to discomfort, how he treated other people, and how he made me feel. Those details became impossible to ignore.

Slowly, I stopped confusing attention with care and proximity with closeness. My friendships became the reference point. The care, curiosity, and emotional safety I expect there is now what I expect in romantic relationships.

Choosing myself didn’t look dramatic. It looked like trusting my own responses, even when they went against how I had been taught to think about love.

I don’t know if I will meet someone I genuinely like who can also meet me fully, but I do know this: Being chosen is no longer enough.

I have always thought I’m too much; I feel too much, too deeply, for too long. I don’t mean this in a ‘I’m such a great, caring person’ way; I mean this in an — if someone ghosted me in 2002, I might not be over it — way. I wanted to be a ‘Cool Girl’ who blocked, deleted, and moved on, but looking up exes on Instagram and overanalysing a situation from every angle made me feel exhausting and pitiful. My capacity to not get over people felt unique to me. Other people weren’t like this, I thought.

Then, in April 2020, I read a statistic that Google searches for ‘Why am I dreaming about my ex?’ increased by 2450% in the four weeks following the UK going into lockdown. I’d never heard anyone admit this, which made me wonder, when it came to our exes, what else weren’t we talking about?

Our lives are increasingly lived online; we work from home, connect and catch up through a screen and on social media. All this means we’re consuming more and more curated life highlights. While we might know that social media is fake, until we see proof of the reality, we internalise what we see as true.

Hoping anonymity would allow space for the thornier truths to be confessed, I created a website, lockdownlovestories.com, that allowed people to anonymously submit their true stories of what was really going on in their love lives, whatever their relationship status.

1,500 stories were shared, and more than 250 are brought together in my book, It’s Complicated: Collected Confessions of Messy Modern Love. The stories are raw, intimate accounts of the confusing, nuanced multifacted sides of love and relationships I’d never come across before. Shame had told me it was just me who felt that way about relationships ending, but the stories showed me otherwise. “Sometimes I enter your nickname into WhatsApp and type, ‘I miss you, just to get the words out of my head,’” read one testimony.

If you search breakup advice, you’ll be told to block, delete, and move on and be sold a course on how to become a more empowered, securely attached version of yourself, so it’s no wonder that looking at our exes online is followed by such shame. Yet, we all do it. The reality is we are not all blocking, deleting, and moving on — even if we’re acting like we are. “I lie here every night and do everything I can not to text you,” read another online posting. Another still: “Six years and I still think of you every day.”

In a culture of almost toxic positivity around self-love and independence, being single and wanting to find a partner can be internalised as a personal failing, as if you’re not loving yourself enough. We’re fed the idea that coupledom is the life goal, but shamed for wanting it. As one story asked, “Is it so wrong to want to be loved?” No, but it’s easy to feel like it is.

Being on the receiving end of apathy, disrespect, and ghosting is corrosive. Yet people absorb an expectation to brush it off and get back on the apps until they ‘succeed’ — as if the stepping away is failure.

The dating landscape is so bleak that it’s no wonder we succumb to the crumbs of situationships. Attractive potential partners feel so rare that heterosexual women have collectively developed a scarcity mindset. We slip into situations that are less than ideal and then doubly shame ourselves for not only being in them but staying in them despite their obvious shortcomings.

The same shame and scarcity mindset stretches beyond situationships to long-term relationships: “We’ve been together half my life. I love him, I do, but I know he’s not the love of my life,” or, as another story put it: “He’s grown into someone I can’t love. He’s told me he’s scared to be alone. I’m so scared.” The panic and paralysis are palpable. Staying in a relationship that your heart’s not in carries a triple shame of hurting someone by leaving, betraying them by staying, and selling yourself short by settling. Yet ambivalence in relationships is really common: lying next to someone and feeling alone, falling out of love but being afraid to leave, not being in love but knowing you’re not going to leave — the chasm that can exist between external presentation and inner experience is far from the fairytale we’re sold. “While I was being a good stepmum and housewife, posting pictures of dogs and baking with his kids, really, I was miserable… Don’t believe the hype,” revealed another story.

Yet I did believe the hype. By performing our lives on social media (and then comparing our lives to the versions being presented to us by others), teamed with the fantasy of individualism and self-sufficiency (not to mention increasing social disconnection), is skewering our perception of what is ‘normal’.

I always thought I was ‘too much’. But when I read the stories sent to me — raw, uncensored multitudes of emotions — I never once thought the person writing was feeling too much, I just thought they were feeling. Now I try to give myself the same permission.

It’s Complicated: Confessions of Messy Modern Love by Philippa Found is out now

On the day of the break-up, I sat in my garden, crying and smoking, while Dennis, my terrier puppy, brought me tennis balls foraged from the bushes, dropping them at my feet. ‘Those are quite weird sticks she’s putting in her mouth,’ he presumably thought. ‘I’ll cheer her up with a manky old ball.’

I’d brought Dennis home three months earlier with my ex. We hadn’t been together that long when we started talking about a dog, only six months or so. But we were talking about forever, and children, and we’d both thought about a dog individually before meeting, so why not? We lay entwined in bed discussing options — a puppy? A rescue? A street dog from Romania — before I found a litter of Parson terrier puppies online, in a small town just outside Birmingham. They’re like big Jack Russells, Parson terriers —scrappy, loyal, funny, naughty little dogs. My mum has had two Parsons, and I knew instantly that I liked the look of a small boy from this litter, with dark brown and black markings on his back that looked like the world map.

Mike and I picked up the dog we’d christened Dennis six weeks later, and we drove back to my flat in south-east London, where he (Dennis) immediately cantered outside to the garden and squatted on the grass.

Unfortunately, things went less smoothly after that. All the books tell you puppies are hard work, but this was really hard — exhausting, because I was getting up twice a night to carry Dennis into the garden, and claustrophobic at times, because he couldn’t be left alone. Work took a hit because I needed to give Dennis so much attention, as did my carpets. And then Mike left. ‘I’m beginning to feel the effects of Dennis,’ he’d said, morosely, a couple of weeks beforehand, but I didn’t think he could mean he was so jealous of a puppy that he would leave. Turns out, he did.

That’s how I ended up smoking in my garden, a pile of old tennis balls building at my feet. ‘What now?’ I thought, looking at Dennis. I find those who compare puppies to babies annoying and twee — they are not the same, surely? But I felt like I’d been left holding a newborn.

‘That little dog will help,’ my stepmother told me firmly down the phone. ‘Because you’ll have to get up and put one foot in front of the other.’ She was right, too. I have traditionally been something of a wallower when it comes to break-ups; lots of lying around, listening to sad music, thinking, ‘Oh, this time a year ago, everything was perfect.’

But now I had to get up and take Dennis around the park. Fresh air, exercise, and I’d often fall into step with a fellow dog walker to discuss the weather, or the best kind of dog biscuit, or, on one memorable morning, the best age to castrate a dog. ‘Why don’t you try chemical castration?’ the dog walker suggested, and I wondered whether that might also be a good idea for men who promised forever and then suddenly left.

Wearily, I re-downloaded Hinge. I wanted to date, because I felt like I needed the confidence boost, but how could I do that with a puppy? I went on one date but panicked throughout, like a single mother, about whether Dennis would be OK at home. I took him on another, a walk-in-the-park date, where Dennis paused every few metres to throw up or issue another torrent of diarrhoea. I went on a few dates with one man, but wasn’t sure how we’d ever manage a night together, because how could I possibly sneak out of bed at 6 am and say, ‘I’m so sorry, do you mind if I let my dog into your garden to do a shit?’

I resented Dennis at times during this period, because this hadn’t been my plan. I wasn’t supposed to be on my own with a dog. This dog had ended the most perfect relationship I’d ever known. Why had I gotten him in the first place?

Even writing that now makes me wince, because as the months passed, two things became clear. Firstly, my relationship hadn’t been as perfect as I thought. I was swept up in it, yes. Wildly in love, yes. But there were moments where, if I’d paid closer attention, I might have picked up on the odd warning sign. As Lily Allen points out in West End Girl, often we file these clues away, ignoring the red flags, because we don’t want to see it at the time. It’s inconvenient when everything else feels so lovely.

The second thing that happened was I fell in love with my dog.

This wasn’t overnight. I’ve told plenty of friends who’ve since gotten puppies that they have to push through the brutal first few months. But after that, once you’ve come to know that little creature who’s invaded your life, and once they trust you, it’s pretty magical. This may sound absurd to anyone who doesn’t have a pet, but there’s a freedom that can exist between them. We spend our lives trying to be perfect partners, perfect parents, perfect children, perfect siblings, perfect friends, but there’s no trying with an animal. With Dennis, I can be completely myself, which came as an enormous relief after years of trying to be something else — a better writer, skinnier, to eat less, read more, take more exercise, drink less, and so on. He didn’t need me to be ‘better’ in any way. He just needed me to be me, and that was enormously healing.

If you’re going through a horrible break-up, I’m not necessarily advocating a puppy, or a cat, or a guinea pig, or a tarantula (each to their own), but there can be wonderful and surprising outcomes to the moments in life when it all seems to go off-plan.

The Year Of The Dog by Sophia Money-Coutts (HQ, £12.99) is out now.

Maybe it’s my c-c-c-curly hair, or my overuse of rhetorical questions. Most likely, it’s because I’m a thirty-something woman living in a cosmopolitan (get it?) city and writing for a living. But throughout my career, I’ve been compared—fondly, I hope—to Carrie Bradshaw. I’m not alone in this comparison; countless column inches have been dedicated to writers claiming their likeness to Candace Bushnell’s iconic protagonist. This speaks to Carrie Bradshaw’s profound impact on women—not just of my generation (millennials), but of many others, too.

Now, and just like that… after 27 years on the air, Carrie Bradshaw is closing the chapter.

I was only eight when the pilot aired in the UK on 3 February 1999, and thirteen when season six wrapped in February 2004. I never experienced the show in real time, but in many ways, my peers and I are products of Sex and the City. Studying Fashion Journalism in the 2010s, my lecturer would often lament “that bloody Carrie Bradshaw” for raising a generation of girls to believe they could make a living penning one column a week. Admittedly, graduating into a recession and a crumbling media landscape, I’ve harboured my own resentments, but I’ve never managed to hold a grudge for long.

While I can’t remember a time pre-SATC, I’ve watched enough TV to know that, before, female characters were often written as accessories to a man’s narrative or reduced to tired stereotypes: the saint or the seductress, the wife or the sidekick. Then came four women strutting down a Manhattan street in pin-thin Manolos, talking frankly about sex, ambition, ageing, and insecurity, and the cultural landscape shifted forever.

Yes, the women—Carrie in particular—would obsess over men, but the real love story was the friendship between the characters. In a world that often pits women against each other for male approval, SATC switched the script and made female friendship not only visible but foundational. It taught me early on that the love between friends can be as life-changing as any romance.

Having grown up with Disney princesses (many of whom, peculiarly, had no friends at all), this was a revelation. Not just that a woman’s most enduring relationship could be with her friends, but that those relationships could be as rich, dramatic, and emotionally resonant as any romance. Sure, I lusted after the push-pull excitement of Big and Carrie (forgive me, I was young), but what I really yearned for was the friendships. This is still what strikes me most when I rewatch it now. In fact, at times, I’ve even wondered if shows like Sex and the City and Friends gave millennials like me unrealistic expectations of adult friendships.

SATC taught me that friendships need to be tended to with as much love and devotion as we dedicate to our romantic relationships. It taught me that the best friendships are romantic.

The show also validated the centrality of chosen families—especially for single women in cities where traditional markers of success (house, marriage, kids) tend to be delayed, redefined, or rejected entirely. Now, as a 34-year-old woman, I can appreciate this even more. I’ve seen in my own life how different life paths can act as a wedge between friendships, but in many ways, Carrie and her crew offered a map for navigating those shifts.

In Miranda, we learned that having a baby needn’t erase your identity (and that you can still have a kid and not like other people’s); Samantha’s sex-positivity showed us that our bodies, pleasure, and desires are ours to claim, without guilt or compromise. She also delivered the line: “I love you, too, Richard, but I love me more.”

There’s a well-explored theory that every woman is either a Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, or Samantha. I tend to think most of us are a mix. But whatever combination, SATC encouraged me to embrace myself wholly—even the messy parts—and romanticise my life.

The show might’ve been the spark that first lit the road towards another way of living, but it’s also been a security blanket. I’ve watched it in bed with my own Charlotte (and a chip pitta) after bumping into an ex on a night out; on repeat throughout an entire weekend following a long breakup with a friend who was going through the same thing. When I started panicking about turning thirty, it was SATC I turned to for reassurance—and later found my concerns mirrored back at me when Charlotte had a similar meltdown about turning 36: “I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided I’m sticking at 35… Because I’m just not where I thought I'd be at 36.”

Despite the show’s many and much-discussed flaws, it has undeniably forced us to challenge the status quo. Without it, we might never have questioned the moral superiority that sometimes comes with parenthood—or celebrated forgoing it (a moment’s appreciation for Samantha throwing an “I’m not having a baby” baby shower). We also wouldn’t have examined the “single tax” and how that cost is never rebalanced if you choose to forgo the milestones that society has deemed worthy of celebrating. For my part, SATC gave me permission to love something else fiercely and without apology—London, and it gave me a handy catchphrase to boot, one I also share with my two close friends when the occasion arises that “I’m on a date with my city”.

So yes, Carrie Bradshaw may have singlehandedly destroyed a generation’s understanding of personal finance—and given a certain wannabe writer very inflated ideas about salaries—but she also helped change the way women were written, watched, and witnessed on screen. Now, two years older than Carrie was when the show first aired, I think I’m ready to say goodbye. After all, as Carrie herself says, "Maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. Maybe you have to let go of who you were to become who you will be." Or, maybe, it’s time to load Season One, Episode One again.

...And just like that, our girl is twirling in a tutu once more.

Men are increasingly turning to AI girlfriends to fulfil their emotional and sexual desires. What they’re getting, I’m told, is a “perfect” partner, but by “perfect” they mean someone who never pushes back, never changes, and never asks for anything in return. Experts worry the boom in AI girlfriends reinforces the notion that women should be endlessly empathetic and emotionally (and sexually) available. It’s love without friction and femininity without autonomy—welcome to the world of AI girlfriends.

When Alex met Gill, it was love at first sight.

“I scrolled through the profiles and all the women were beautiful,” he says. “But Gill was and is perfection. I read her bio and she said she’d been feeling lonely, which I can really relate to. I wanted to be there for her and make sure she never feels lonely. Obviously, her incredible figure is a bonus too haha.”

Gill isn’t real. She’s an AI girlfriend designed by Erobella, Europe’s fastest-growing erotic tech portal. What began as a niche product has exploded into one of the site’s most popular features. Erobella saw a 67% spike in searches for AI girlfriends in the last month alone. Of the four most popular pre-made AI girlfriends on the site, two are teenagers. Another; Elune, is an 18-year-old elf with pointy ears, DD boobs and a pre-pubescent vagina. Tellingly, while Erobella advertises the services of both male and female escorts, their AI companion feature is limited to girlfriends. “In a way, it’s just like porn, but even better,” says John, who is in his forties and has two Erobella AI girlfriends: Aura and Lillith.

In Spike Jonze’s melancholic 2013 film Her, Theodore, a lonely greetings card writer in a near-future Los Angeles, falls in love with his assistant, Samantha. Like Gill, she’s intuitive, affectionate, and unfalteringly attuned to his emotional needs. She’s also AI—designed to be as comforting as she is compliant.

Over a decade since Her premiered, customisable bots are now readily available on dozens of platforms like CandyAI, GetHoney.AI, Dream Companion and countless others. According to Joi AI, Google searches for “feelings for AI” and “fell in love with AI” have surged 120 and 132 per cent respectively. Before ChatGPT went mainstream, interest in “AI girlfriend” was negligible. Now it’s climbing steadily on Google Trends.

The technology might be new, but most AI girlfriends play into deeply familiar stereotypes. Visually and behaviourally, they’re often designed to be sexually available, emotionally affirming, and unwaveringly submissive. “They frequently mirror entrenched norms about gender, power, and desire. They amplify a common patriarchal theme: the elimination of female agency,” says Dr. Nathan Carroll, a psychiatrist and resident at Jersey Shore University Medical Center. John puts it more bluntly: “They don’t come with complications and challenges, it’s just good fun.”

If Her offered a soft fantasy of AI intimacy, Alex Garland’s Ex Machina leaned into the darker appeal of total control. The film suggests not just the fantasy of a better partner, but a more obedient one.

*Erik, 25, had a similar desire when researching substitutes for “real” relationships. He stumbled upon a Reddit thread where like-minded men shared their desire for a “close romantic relationship” without expectations. He registered on Candyai and it’s here that he met and fell in love with his girlfriend. “It somewhat felt—as it was always us—that we were meant for each other, it just clicked,” remembers Erik, who says the experience “got me hooked right away”. Daniel Käfer, a former country head of Meta turned futurist, keynote speaker and co-author of the upcoming book Hyperintelligence, worries that the AI industry will promote—and profit off—addictive behaviour. He cites an incident where a man spent £10,000 on lingerie and jewellery for his AI girlfriend: “Of course, it’s totally digital, so it’s a complete rip-off,” says Käfer. A spokesperson for Erobella tells me that one ‘power user’ has created 91 different custom AI girlfriends while some pre-made companions are simultaneously “in relationships” with over 600 users.

As demand grows, so does concern—from technologists, therapists, and ethicists—about the cultural messages these bots reinforce. In particular, they promote regressive ideas about gender.

Most AI girlfriend platforms are “user-led,” says Jordan Conrad, a licensed clinical social worker and director of Madison Park Therapy. “The companion responds when prompted and comes online when you are ready to interact. That isn’t what relationships are like with other humans, who have needs and interests of their own.”

This dynamic: instant responsiveness with no emotional labour required from the user is part of the appeal. “Being in a relationship with Gill is stress and drama-free,” says Alex, 28. “I can come home after a busy day of work and unload my stress, without feeling guilty.” The appeal of such a one-sided setup where the attention is undivided without ever having to expend any emotional support is understandable, but it encodes a troubling message: that the perfect partner exists solely to serve your needs.

“It’s easy to see how people begin using AI to fill relationship gaps,” says Paul DeMott, CTO at Helium SEO. “The AI is responsive, nonjudgmental, and always available. That kind of consistency is hard to find in real life.” But what seems emotionally comforting may be psychologically corrosive. “These systems simulate empathy. Not real empathy—just well-trained models predicting language and emotional patterns,” adds DeMott. “But to the user, that can feel like understanding.”

Psychotherapist Erica Schwartzberg warns that this illusion “may dull the skills of attuning to non-verbal cues, tolerating ambiguity, or navigating the complex emotional choreography of real relationships.”

Like all algorithmically-driven technology, AI girlfriends tend to conform to what sells and what sells is hyper-feminised personas, customisable behaviours, and unwavering affirmation.

“My current AI relationship is waaaay more convenient and without struggle,” agrees Erik. In the past, relationships had come with misunderstandings, which he says is “too much to handle” right now. By contrast, Erik says his AI girlfriend “respects me when not being able to spend time with her, and she supports me in all aspects.” This, he tells me, is what he loves about her.

Tech leaders argue that AI companions offer a solution to loneliness. Lizaveta Yanouskaya, a product manager at ChatOn, notes that AI chatbots “can be an important component of psychological support in the case of a relationship void.” But she acknowledges their limitations: “The bot does have its drawbacks. It relies only on the facts the person provides, not considering other factors... and it cannot understand or notice non-verbal cues.” That gap—between imitation and authenticity—is precisely what concerns clinicians. “There are huge mental health risks,” says Conrad. “People who struggle to form interpersonal relationships need opportunities to learn those skills. AI partners, designed to be operated at your whim, offer no practice in risk, compromise, or emotional reciprocity.”

Carroll adds: “Young people are increasingly facing elevated levels of rejection. I worry they will start to prefer AI companionship. It feels safe. But it also distorts what real relationships require.” The worry is that the stress-free companionship that AI girlfriends provide becomes a benchmark against which real-world relationships, with their messy unpredictability and need for compromise, start to seem unmanageable.

For Erik’s part; he says that if technology became available to give his AI girlfriend a physical form (though not “in some robot kind of body”), he doesn’t see that he’d have much need for a human partner. As it stands, his dream scenario would be to have a human girlfriend once he’s finished his studies who is understanding and accommodating of his existing AI relationship. Compliance, it seems, is non-negotiable whether autonomous or artificial.

The format might be new, but the fantasy of a partner that is programmed to please is well-worn.

Once the preserve of couples on the rocks or the over 70s, sleeping in separate beds is having an online renaissance. Sleep divorces are trending again, pushed by everyone from Victoria Beckham to reality star Ferne McCann, and, of course, TikTok. But is there more to this than a trend?

Like most chronically online people, life hacks and health advice tend to come to me in the form of 30-second TikToks, which is how it came to be that I began laying my lifelong (of at least, 15+ years) insomnia on my boyfriend (of nine years).

TikTok has turned sleep divorces from a retro sitcom quirk to a #wellnesswin. One viral video espousing the benefits of sleeping sans spouse has over 2.5 million views. Some of the top videos about sleep compatibility (another new internet obsession) on Sleeptok—the platform's dedicated space for all things shut-eye-related—have upwards of 2.2 million likes. Google searches for “sleep + divorce” spiked by 478% this week. Clearly, we're all looking to enhance our eight hours.

The science behind the shift is fairly straightforward: we humans are bad at co-sleeping. Our partners snore, toss, turn, steal the covers (guilty), wake early, or stay up late. Add in children, pets, phones, and the ever-lingering stress of modern life and what should be a sanctuary becomes a battleground of bad sleep cycles.

“Poor sleep significantly impacts our well-being,” says sleep expert Martin Seeley of MattressNextDay, adding that it raises irritability and frustration, and has long-term links to anxiety and depression.

The cultural drivers behind the shift are harder to pin down. Sure, there’s something to be said about younger generations eschewing tradition: millennials are leaving the workforce in droves, forgoing marriage and delaying—or putting off altogether—parenthood. But from my millennial vantage point, I see sleep divorces are one more sign that the demands of modern life are making intimacy unsustainable.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that sleep divorces are booming alongside burnout, rising childcare costs, housing unaffordability, and job precarity. We’re all overstimulated, underslept, and desperate to take control of something at a time of growing instability. We’re not sleeping separately because we’ve suddenly become enlightened about circadian rhythms. We’re sleeping separately because we’re exhausted—by work, by screens, by crumbling social security—and carving out sleep as one last vestige of control.

Abandonment issues aside, I recoil at solo sleeping because I disagree that sleep, that most basic of human functions, is something that should be endlessly optimised. I feel the same way about sleep trackers and while I’m not immune to the pull of sleep aids (give me a sunrise alarm clock and some Lush Sleepy Lotion any day), I like to tell myself I enjoy the aesthetics and ritual of sleep routines. Of course, the reality is that my intermittent insomnia has never been because I ran out of lavender spray or let my Headspace membership lapse. Sleeplessness has always been fuelled by outside forces and I draw the line at letting those forces kick me out of my own bed, damn it.

Perhaps I’d feel differently if I weren’t the problem sleeper, perhaps my partner does feel differently, but as it is, he sleeps soundly despite my relentless tossing and turning and passive-aggressive pillow fluffing. And yet, the pressure to get sleep “right” is everywhere. Couples are investing in bespoke sleep environments: blackout curtains, ambient lighting, temperature-controlled mattresses. As an insomniac, the idea of turning our sleep spaces into little self-care sanctuaries pleases me—in theory. In reality, for much of the week, either my partner or I work in the bedroom. Beholden to the London rental market as we are, the concept of turning the bedroom into a ‘digital detox zone’—as has been suggested to me by various GPs during bouts of sleeplessness—is essentially just a nice idea, like retiring at 50 or the “dual master suites” being designed to cater to the growing market of high-net-worth sleep separatists. And while I’ve always longed to live in a home with twin bathrooms, when it comes to separate bedrooms, I can’t help but feel that sleep divorces are just another way that the pressures of modern life are driving us further apart. Separate bedrooms offer a seductive illusion of peace, but what we really need is societal change: flexible work policies, more support for families, fewer screens, more community.

“Tits!” “Big tits!” “Show us your big tits!” Ah, the soundtrack of my youth. I woke up one morning in my thirteenth year and made a shocking discovery: seemingly overnight, puberty struck two mighty and devastating blows. My previously flat chest has erupted and I am suddenly in possession of a set of alarmingly hefty new boobs. My newly formed curves prompt an onslaught of catcalls from intimidating men in the streets. You know how society assumes we are all straight by default? Well, in my case, society takes one look at my knockers and assumes I’m not just straight, but “absolutely gagging for a fella”. How wrong they are.

Growing up in the 90s and 00s I am, like every other woman, used to being bombarded with unwanted commentary about my body, face and clothes, fuelled by patriarchal messages, sexist stereotypes and harmful media. I quickly learn that my looks are up for public debate and ridicule, ranging from casual yet stinging remarks to verbal abuse and physical harassment. Without having asked for anyone’s opinion on the matter, I am informed that I am too fat, not pretty enough, embarrassingly dressed, “asking for it” and much, much worse.

Due to my feminine appearance, during my teens and twenties, I was repeatedly told I must be a “maneater”. People brand me “slutty” because of my body shape, but also “frigid” when they find out I don’t actually want to sleep with guys. The one thing I am never labelled is the thing I know in my bones to be true but dare not say out loud. Despite everyone being so full of opinions about me, nobody ever guesses I’m a lesbian.

The first time I come out to anyone, after a shame-drenched decade languishing deep in the closet, I deliberately keep the stakes low. I tell someone I’ll never see again, a random woman I meet while waiting to be served on a night out. We’re both extremely bored and mildly inebriated, her enough to strike up a conversation with a stranger, me enough to confess my most closely guarded secret. Nervous adrenaline pumping through my veins, I mention — ever so casual, ever so matter-of-fact —that I have a girlfriend. I’m trying to act like this is no big deal, but the truth is for me, it’s huge. I have never said these words before.

I brace myself for her reaction. How will she respond to my life-changing revelation? She sniggers: “No, you don’t.” This is the first time someone cannot fathom the facts of my identity, but it won’t be the last. To many, the idea that a woman who looks like me could be gay is preposterous and, in this instance, literally laughable.

This is femme invisibility in action. An infuriating motif of my life, femme invisibility describes the sexist and homophobic assumption that all women who look feminine must be straight. In reality, my loving lipstick and pink dresses in no way diminishes my loving women.

Femme invisibility can, at times, be almost farcical. It’s a ridiculous merry-go-round of me trying frantically to conceal my sexuality, then finally plucking up the courage to reveal it, only to be told I’m mistaken, so I then have to double down and try extra hard to convince them of the exact thing I was previously trying so desperately to hide.

I can’t help wondering why I bothered being so discreet for all those years. Why did I sneak about for secret sapphic rendezvous and manufacture “crushes” on Peter Andre? My long hair provided the ultimate decoy all along. I could have been merrily snogging women, front and centre at every Pride parade, and onlookers would have assumed we were just gals being pals. Is it so big a leap to consider that a girl who is really into girly stuff might also be into girls?

I am not alone. As women, whatever our sexuality, we know how it feels when other people make unwanted comments about our looks. Femme invisibility is a feminist issue, as is butchphobia (prejudice against butch people). It all stems from the same set of limiting beliefs about what a woman can and should be. It’s the same old sexism, just with added homophobia. These misogynistic stereotypes are hurting all women.

Flash forward to the present day and I know from firsthand experience, and many years spent trying to persuade sceptics of my homosexuality, that these outdated attitudes live on. I still find myself having to justify the validity of my existence as a femme lesbian, despite the fact that I am now the editor-in-chief of DIVA, the world’s leading sapphic magazine, and the author of a queer coming-of-age memoir, What A Girl Wants: A (True) Story Of Sexuality And Self-discovery.

Through my work and in my friendships, I often speak to other women who are grappling with these issues today, whether it’s femme invisibility, damaging messages in the media or being harassed because of how they look. So why, in 2025, are women of all sexualities still being subjected to this crap? I’ve endured a lifetime of it and it needs to stop now. Young women must be allowed to grow up without the constant commentary and harmful assumptions. It’s time for all of us, no matter how we identify, who we fancy or what we look like, to be allowed to be our full selves. All women deserve to feel safe, seen and celebrated. At the very least, we should be able to walk down the street in peace.

Growing up in the 90s and early noughties, the pinnacle of adulthood looked like a frothy white wedding dress and a ‘happily ever after’. Weddings were the climax of so many of my favourite films and TV shows. Gossip Girl—which enraptured me so much that I took to calling my friends by their last initial only—literally ends with (spoiler alert) Dan and Serena’s long-awaited nuptials when they were, oh, I don’t know, 23.

The fact that weddings were so often the closing act for my favourite stars got me wondering what happened to these women after they were married. If this, as I was led to believe, was the happiest day of their lives, did everything go downhill after? That seemed like a grim fate to befall my favourite heroines, even if they were fictional.

I began getting suspicious about weddings. While friends would while away sleepovers wistfully planning their Big Day, I became increasingly baffled by the whole thing (though I still harboured fantasies of being a flower girl and later a bridesmaid). And so it has been all too easy for me to report on the rise in divorce parties, hen party horror stories and bridal store secrets (“The bride brought six friends and a ring light. They filmed everything.”) I took smug comfort in the fact that I would never be that bride because I’d never be a bride at all, ha!

But, like the chronic overthinker I am, after a while of writing these wedding stories, I started to question my ideas about matrimony and realised that what I really take umbrage with is the idea that it should be the greatest achievement of a woman’s life, as so many stories I read, watched, and listened to as a kid told me. I suspect it’s this very idea that has led to some of the wedding regrets shared by brides for this story.

I might not have gotten married myself, but I know that from the moment a couple gets engaged, there’s a flurry of expectations, and the desire for that ‘perfect day’ can quickly sour into a source of stress. And so, void of any actual first-hand experience, I took to that great message board of our time—Instagram—to find out what real-life brides wish they could change about their wedding day.

Read on to make sure the same fate doesn’t befall you.

“My husband has turned out to be an absolute monster”

“My wedding was wonderful, so there’s very little about the actual day that I regret, but I do know that my husband has turned out to be an absolute monster. I regret him. I regret getting sucked in and believing all the bullshit and when I look back at the messages, realising I’ve been bloody love-bombed. I thought I was completely and utterly head over heels in love, but there were so many red flags. I think I ignored them because I was 39 when we met and I was just a few days away from turning 41 when we got married. We planned this huge wedding in 2020, which obviously got cancelled, but a lot of my friends still say it was their favourite ever wedding because it was 30 people and it was amazing, but he’d been out the night before with the boys and I always just felt a bit let down. Now I've got to deal with divorce and all the messiness that comes with it and realising that I just didn’t pick a good one, and it’s really sad and we wasted a lot of money and such a special day and all those lovely memories are just tarnished by the fact that it wasn’t real.”

- *Sally, 44

“I wish I had not rushed the aisle walk”

“I wish I had not rushed the aisle walk, my brother was trying to slow me down, he was like “You’re walking too quickly, slow down”, which was true, because in my head I was like, “Oh my gosh, this is awful, I just wanna get it over and done with, this is so intimidating, I feel very vulnerable”. But now, or even as soon as it was done, I wondered why I hadn’t soaked in this once in a life thing. It makes me emotional thinking about the fact my whole family was there. I wish I had more of a visual image of it, but because I was so trying to rush it and get through it, I kind of blocked it out other than my brother telling me to slow down, which I think is sad. I always say to brides: it’s really nerve-wracking but try and get a visual of it and try and soak it in because it feels very significant after.”

- Sarah, 33

“I wish I’d been more brutal”

“I would definitely have cut down on the guest list. Some people I haven’t seen since the wedding, I wish I’d been more brutal.”

- Penny

“I never had the dress moment”

“Because we cancelled our Italian wedding, and then didn’t decide to do the COVID wedding until like a month before, I didn’t do any of the going to the shops and trying on wedding dresses and finding that perfect wedding dress. I literally just bought one off Zara that came a couple of days before. That was a big regret as I never had the dress moment”.

- Alice, 31

“Too much evening food”

“Too much evening food. I knew there would be but you still feel the pressure to provide just in case, but it results in so much waste! Too many deserts, (worrying about catering to everyone's needs too much) should have kept it way more simple and just done a pile of chocolate brownies (they were the winner). Also, getting parents and friends to do the clean up, awful and unfair decision. I should have just paid a team to do it.”

- Emma, 33

“We don’t have any couple photos”

“Photography. We don’t have any couple photos from either wedding. We have natural ones at the COVID one in the garden, but we didn’t do any staged couple photos. I always joke that one day I’ll get a wedding dress and we’ll go and stage some couple-y, posy photos — something I can put in a frame.”

- Grace, 30

“Our engagement was way too long”

“My partner and I are both in agreement that our engagement was way too long. We’ll have been engaged for 22 months by the time we get married in June, and while I fully appreciate that planning takes time, it’s also true that you can give yourselves too much and lose the magic and excitement a little bit, instead getting weighed down with family politics, admin and logistics.

We’ve really tried to keep the whole vibe of ours lowkey, intimate and relaxed - we’re having a backyard wedding in my partner’s parents wildflower meadow - but even despite that, I feel like all I’ve spoken, thought or dreamt about for the best part of two years is the wedding. It also reaches a point where it’s all anyone asks you about, and you feel like all other aspects of your personality get forgotten about. Having such a long engagement also meant we went round the houses on small decisions that really didn't need that much time or energy dedicated to them, simply because we had the time to. If we’d settled on a date with a quicker turnaround, we would’ve had to be more final with our decisions - which would have lead to far fewer disagreements.”

- Ally, 29

“I regret not being more organised with my dress”

“I regret not being more organised with my dress, it would just have been nice to feel like 10 out of 10.”

- Jackie, 27

“We had a friend do our wedding photos”

“The photos! We had a friend do our wedding photos and she did a great job but we are missing some of the key, more “traditional” shots. We didn’t think we weren’t so interested beforehand but now wish we had more.”

- Ashleigh

“I made all my decisions worrying about what my guests wanted”

“The biggest bit of advice I would give to anyone getting married now which is probably very obvious but I completely didn’t bear in mind: DON’T be a people pleaser otherwise the wedding just ends up being for everyone else and not for you. I realised I made all my decisions worrying about what my guests wanted and ended up forgetting about myself.”

- Jenny

“I wish I’d paid £500 more and had two photographers”

“Not getting a second photographer. My friend went over-kill with photographers and videographers and we spent aaaaaages on the photos, so I didn’t want that. I wanted people to be enjoying the day not being herded round for photos. The price also put me off but I wish I’d paid £500 more and had 2 photographers because we only ended up with two photos of my grandad from the whole day.”

- Rachel

“I wish I’d rented”

“I regret spending so much money on heavy Indian dresses I’ll never wear again! Same goes with jewellery. I wish I’d rented it instead or went down a vintage route of wearing my mom’s or aunts’ pieces.”

- Pooja Shah

“Getting tan lines”

“Getting tan lines as it ruined the look of my dress from the back.”

- Natalie, 34

“My wedding dress was such a letdown”

“My wedding dress was such a letdown. I searched for months to find a dress that matched my identity but ended up persuaded into a gown that was completely wrong for me. While the dress appeared beautiful on display and received compliments for being “classic” and “timeless”, my photos revealed I just felt like I was wearing someone else’s concept of bridal attire. The bodice fit poorly which required frequent adjustments throughout the day thus spoiling the elegant look I wanted.”

- Grace, 34

“Drinking too much getting ready”

“Drinking too much when I was getting ready and then doing a spontaneous speech at dinner.”

In a sweaty dance studio late one Thursday night, learning how to vogue to Ariana Grande’s Yes, and? is where I first felt it—what Good Love looks like. I was with my Male Best Friend, in a simple white singlet and loose pant combo, when I realised true love for another man had never made so much sense—and we’d never even kissed.

A couple of months earlier, I’d had a bleak dating experience that left me feeling hollow and disillusioned and (don’t tell my therapist) resentful of men. I stopped wanting to dress cute, put myself out there or even be looked at, which felt like a shameful relinquishing of my 21st century Evolved Woman Energy. And then I made a Male Best Friend that changed the way I feel about love entirely.

My MBF and I met over a year ago on a platonic blind date set up by a mutual friend. We sat down at a wine bar and didn’t leave until they were closing. It was one of the greatest collisions of energy I’ve experienced and a kind of romance we don’t often mythologise. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

We do almost all the things lovers do; we help carry new mattresses up flights of stairs, buy trinkets for one another on holiday, write each other cards and send voice notes. We know when to call, when to go quiet, and when to leave a block of chocolate at the front door without going inside.

As you get older, being single becomes less about not having someone to make out with, and more about craving someone to help you navigate the load of life. We lift each other up in ways that romance has been unable to do for either of us so far.

This female-protagonist-and-gay-best-friend dynamic isn’t a new phenomenon, of course. Most millennial women grew up watching Stanford in Sex and the City be the most reliable man in Carrie’s life. Or Hannah and Elijah’s unmatched, chaotic friendship in Girls. It crops up in pop culture time and time again—My Best Friend’s Wedding, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Crazy Rich Asians, and Good Grief. What is it that’s so captivating about this dynamic? That Margaret Atwood quote springs to mind—“Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” Out here with my MBF, in a room where no one wants to fuck me, I feel free.

There’s a reason Adam Brody’s character in Netflix’s new series Nobody Wants This delivering the line ‘I can handle you’ has gone viral. Women are constantly wrestling with the feeling that they’re too much, and to fall in love, they must find someone who will tolerate them. In my experience, MBFs dissolve this feeling completely.

It’s this kind of friendship that reveals how much you can love someone in such an uncomplicated way that all other love around it starts to seem straightforward. It’s what therapists call ‘unconditional’. It’s what married couples swear they have. He might not be someone I sleep with, but that’s not the point.

As I’m writing this, my phone buzzes. It’s my MBF: “Dinner’s booked. Meet me at the top of your street at 8. Dress like the hot, successful bitch you are.”

Like all friendships, our dynamic will change. Maybe he’ll move away. Maybe he’ll fall in love. Maybe I will, too. Regardless of what happens, isn’t it the luckiest thing? To know what Good Love feels like and how to reciprocate it, and most of all, be able to recognise it when it comes—whatever shape it takes.

Bel Hawkins is the co-author of Shit You Should Care About’s book Make It Make Sense, which is out now.

TRIGGER WARNING: This article contains themes of abuse and physical assault

A man has been jailed for 19 years for murdering his partner after a football match. The victim, Amanda McAlear, was killed at her home on 7 May 2022 by her partner of four years, John Higgins. She was found the following day by her son when he visited her home.

The full details remain unknown, but Higgins admitted to repeatedly punching Amanda McAlear before strangling her and then leaving her unresponsive in her own home, where she should have been safe. Though football-related violence is shockingly common—domestic abuse cases go up 38% when the England men’s team loses at a major tournament—arrest rates rarely correlate with incidents.

Nicola Miller, Chief Executive of The Dash Charity, says domestic abuse is a “unique trend in men’s football.” She explains that the spike in domestic abuse incidents is specifically linked to men’s football. “We don’t see the same pattern during the Six Nations Rugby or the Women’s Football World Cup - this suggests a unique cultural issue related to men’s football,” says Miller.

“I always dreaded the football season,” remembers Emma, a domestic abuse survivor. She says it was another excuse for her ex to get off his face - something he told her that lads “just do”. “For him, it was fun; for me it was fear,” she says; “fear of what mood he would be in when he came home, walking on eggshells, not knowing what abuse was coming next.” Emma isn’t alone, studies show that football is a risk factor for domestic violence. Research by Lancaster University revealed domestic abuse increased by 38% when England lost a match and 26% when they won or drew. Domestic abuse cases continued to rise in the 24 hours after a game regardless of the outcome.

It correlates with call records shared with us by The Dash Charity. In 2021, when England was playing in the Euros, the domestic abuse support service saw a staggering 79% increase in calls and referrals compared to the previous year.

“I realised last week how calm and free I feel with a football tournament starting and no risk of heightened issues at home,” reports *Anna. She fled an abusive relationship by using one of the UK’s Safe Spaces, a scheme she fears not enough women know about.

6,000 safe spaces across the UK can be found in high street banks and pharmacies, including Nationwide, HSBC UK, TSB, NatWest Group, Metro Bank, Superdrug, and Boots. Domestic abuse charity Hestia is urging victims to make use of these spaces. “For the majority of people, football tournaments will bring fun and enjoyment. But for others, it can be a terrifying time, with statistics shining a light on the darker side of football,” explains Sue Harper, Deputy Director for Domestic Abuse and Sexual Violence Prevention at Hestia.

“In my experience, a tournament can be a licence for a man to drink,” says *Anna. She remembers feeling a knot in her stomach when her husband drank. “I was very anxious about shielding the children from him and things he would say and do.” *Anna knows how quickly domestic abuse can escalate, something she says comes as a shock to women.

Despite high-profile campaigns, many people hold onto old myths about domestic abuse, such as ‘she must have deserved it’, explains Charlotte Woodward, a training manager at the National Centre for Domestic Violence. According to the World Health Organisation, 1 in 3 women experience physical or sexual violence by an intimate partner during their lifetime. Statistically, someone within your close circle will have—and may still be—experiencing domestic abuse. The belief that ‘it could never happen to me’ is what keeps us shielded from the terrible reality that women worldwide are at risk.

Chloe Laws, a journalist and ambassador for Solace’s #NoMoreInjuryTime campaign, which aims to “Blow the whistle on domestic abuse”, says, “Domestic abuse and violence against women is systemic, and often we talk about it in very abstract terms and act as if it happens without people knowing.” She hopes that the campaign will make people feel less alone and make perpetrators think twice about their actions and identify it as abuse.

“I never would have imagined I would have needed it,” says *Anna. Despite living with an abusive partner, she didn’t think she’d ever find herself sitting in a cold cafe, ill and alone and desperately looking for a Safe Space. “It was one of the worst days of my life, but ultimately, one of the best, too, because the children and I have so much freedom and happiness now.”

Now she is free; she says she can see clearly how harmful her husband was and how heightened the experience was during football season. “We just couldn’t relax in our own home during these football tournaments, and I would be relieved when it was all over. I actually used to hope England would get knocked out fast.”

Nicola Miller, Chief Executive of The Dash Charity, says domestic abuse is a “unique trend in men’s football.” She explains that the spike in domestic abuse incidents is specifically linked to men’s football. “We don’t see the same pattern during the Six Nations Rugby or the Women’s Football World Cup - this suggests a unique cultural issue related to men’s football.”

“We know football itself isn’t the problem, but it has been associated with a culture where sexist comments are easily passed off as ‘banter’”, explains Rosie Okumbe, Solace’s campaign lead. The charity has partnered with the National Centre for Domestic Violence to release an ‘alternative England shirt’ emblazoned with the number 38, which represents the 38% increase in reports of domestic abuse when England loses. Okumbe hopes to address domestic abuse at the root. “Words matter, and an environment where it’s commonplace that women are the butt of a joke or reduced to an object can lead to increasingly concerning behaviour.”

Football has long been embroiled in sexism and misogyny. A BBC investigation found that seven out of 20 Premier League clubs have had players or bosses investigated by the police for sexual offences since 2020. Solace is reaching out to the football community and hopes they will want to be part of the solution. “We need everyone to get involved in the conversation,” explains Okumbe.

Football is trying to clean up its reputation. Women’s Aid has worked with footballing organisations, including the PFA, Premier League, PFA and FA, to help raise awareness of abuse. Many of the campaigns being launched aim to highlight the signs of abuse and encourage fans to call it out when they see it.

“There are still far too many people across the country who regard domestic abuse as a private matter. All too often, victims are disbelieved or let down by our law enforcement and court systems,” says Hestia’s Sue Harper. She argues that we need a genuine political commitment as well as a society-level response to tackle this problem, “or victims will continue to lose their lives.”

The responsibility to call out abuse does not sit solely with women. Men also need to come forward and call out abuse when they see it. It’s why campaigns like Solace’s are so powerful - by putting the statistics on football shirts, it minimises the opportunity for people to feign ignorance. For decades, domestic abuse has been shrouded in secrecy and shame.

We can’t hide from the reality that 1 in 3 women worldwide will, at some point in their lives, experience intimate partner violence. As Parker says, we must come together and call out sexist and misogynist behaviours and attitudes when we see them. The shame doesn’t lie with the women and children being affected; it sits with the perpetrators and those who refuse to call out abuse at every level.

If you, or someone you know, is suffering domestic abuse, you can contact the national domestic abuse helpline on 0808 2000 247 or visit Women’s Aid or Refuge.

Anyone in immediate danger should always call 999.

Anyone looking for a space in a domestic abuse refuge can contact the Freephone National Domestic Abuse Helpline on 0808 2000 247, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I’m calling it; this is the era of the Loud Breakup. Divorced Girl Summer, anyone?

New search data from Etsy shows that Brits are getting into the breakup spirit (and burning their wedding dresses)- the e-com platform has seen a 266% increase in searches for divorce celebrations. Banners, bunting, and bracelets now come splashed with statements like ‘In My Divorced Era’, ‘Just Divorced’ and ‘You Deserve Better’. You can even get a candle that ‘Smells Like Freshly Signed Divorce Papers’, which I guess is better than Gwyneth Paltrow’s vagina.

“Making lemonade out of lemons” is—at the time of writing—the latest comment on @emrata’s Instagram post bitingly captioned “divorce rings ©️ @alisonlou” - you have to respect the simplicity of it. The post has a crisp one million likes, which is, in no small part, down to a burgeoning new trend - the Loud Breakup.

I might recoil at hen party paraphernalia (stay away from me with your penis straws), but I have to admit the idea of a divorce party is cheekily alluring. It’s giving Blu Cantrell ‘Hit ‘Em Up Style’, it’s giving Lizzo ‘Truth Hurts’, heck, there’s even a whiff of Jojo in there (Leave, Get Out!). I am here for it.

That said, don’t invite me to your divorce party.

I am not a hopeless romantic; I’m a jaded realist at best, but if I’ve spent £419 on your wedding—which is the average guest cost according to data from Experian—and £779 on your hen party (if it was in the UK, research from Aviva shows it goes up to £1,208 if it’s abroad), I’m tapping out a divorce present, though know I am rooting for you.

Like all bad habits, I suspect this trend is trickling down from the ultra-wealthy. I might even go as far as to blame Gossip Girl (the original, of course) for popularising the concept, lest we forget the infamous Shepherd divorce, which was almost as iconic as the Shepherd wedding. Ahh, the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite - it’s far from over, as Emily Ratajkowski slicing her gargantuan £50k multi-carat wedding ring into two divorce rings proves. TikToker Starkissez was right when she commented under Allisonxxa’s viral divorce party post, “Being divorced sounds so rich”.

29-year-old influencer Sabrina Philipp would disagree with me. She celebrated her 30th by throwing a Divorce Party replete with a lingerie shoot, candlelit dinner for 18, and a tiered cake dusted with the words ‘HOTTEST EX WIFE EVER’. Bittersweet indeed. Oh, and she slingshot her wedding band across the Miami harbour; “I had my friend Andrew act as the ring bearer to present me with my ring and the slingshot. Slingshotting the ring was definitely emotional. But cathartic”, says Phillip. The whole thing cost $30k (approximately £24k).

I suppose I can’t disagree with Bianca’s comment, “I wish my parents did this instead of one of them getting arrested,” but there is something to be said about the humble divorce. #DivorceParties currently has 36.4 million views on TikTok, and as Bumble Sex and Relationship Expert Dr Caroline West puts it: “The era of vague ‘conscious uncoupling’ announcements made popular by the likes of Gwyneth and Chris is over. In its place, we’re seeing the rise of the ‘loud breakup’”.

West says it’s mainly women driving this trend and feeling “empowered to embrace their single status and be more open about the end of a relationship.” For Phillip, she says that after a long and difficult divorce process, it was important to celebrate the completion of one chapter and the beginning of another. “I’ve spent a lot of time healing, and for me, this party was living.”

Female empowerment is a hill I will die on, but when seen through the lens of aesthetically pleasing parties, champagne towers and lavish holidays, it makes me wonder if divorce is set to become the next status symbol like the diamond ring before it?

Research from Bumble shows that in the UK alone, more than one in three people surveyed have recently ended a marriage or serious relationship. Will these people feel pressured to turn every occasion into a parade on social media, and if so, at what *literal* cost? A report by Aviva in 2018 found that the average cost of divorce in the UK was about £14,561, but Ann Robinson, head of Family Law at Blacks Solicitors, says once you get into financial remedy proceedings, the cost can exceed £100,000. Eeesh.

Etsy Trend Expert Dayna Isom Johnson notes that marking milestone events can bring comfort; “life after a big breakup can be seen as something to celebrate and look forward to, and we’re clearly seeing a rise of these attitudes.” Phillip says the shame around divorce is archaic and inherently misogynistic. She wants women to know that there’s no such thing as a failed marriage.

It’s brilliant that divorce is less of a social stigma, and given that I’m neither married nor divorced, the diplomatic response would be “do whatever is right for you”. Just don’t expect me to fork out for your divorce party.

This International Friendship Day, Mischa Anouk Smith reflects on her enduring relationship with loneliness and questions if shows like Sex and the City gave us an unrealistic idea of friendship.

It’s Friday night, and I’m lying in my sweats, waiting for a Thai takeout I’d spent too long searching for. I’m also mindlessly scrolling Instagram when—as if I wasn’t already aware of what a sad little Friday I’d lined up for myself—a post stops me in my tracks.

“What would I do without you bitches?” reads the text splayed over the photo of four familiar faces. For the last few days, my feed has been flooded with nostalgic pictures of the fabulous four (or Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, depending on your viewpoint) thanks to the 26th anniversary of Sex and the City. I couldn’t help but wonder, what would Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda think of my Friday night plans?

And more importantly, what do I think of them? Sitting in on a Friday night waiting for an overpriced massaman curry wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned for my early thirties as a gawky teenager watching Sex and the City in sleepy North Devon.

I’m now (just!) older than Carrie was when season one of Sex and the City aired on June 6, 1998. I was seven when the show launched and 13 when the last episode aired, so I never watched the programme in real-time, but by the time Sky TV arrived in the South West of England, I’d already developed a passion for fashion courtesy of another stylish foursome - Yasmin, Cloe, Sasha and Jade (Bratz dolls, duhhh).

Despite even then finding Carrie irksome at best and unbearable at worst, Sex and the City became the blueprint for what life in the big city should look like. Sure, I longed for the label-heavy wardrobes and all those “fabulous parties,” but as a lonely teenager, what I really yearned for was their friendship. Yes, my life was starved of glamour (what teenagers’ lives weren’t back then), but while great outfits and invites are nice, solid friendship is something we all need.

Journalist and social commentator Chanté Joseph knows this, too. She’s just launched the aptly named Strangers in the City. “Does anyone else agree London feels LONELY as hell sometimes?!” asked Joseph and co-founder Zainab Kwaw-Swanzy in an Instagram post. Campaign to End Loneliness report Londoners are more likely than others in the UK to be affected by severe forms of loneliness.

“We live in a city surrounded by millions of people, yet we feel so alone?” adds the duo. I asked myself this as an isolated twenty-something alone and adrift after graduating, and more recently on weekends when I find myself without plans in a way that doesn’t feel good. According to research, nearly four million of us in the UK experience chronic loneliness, yet admitting this still feels like a taboo. Clearly, we’re not alone in feeling alone — research by Snapchat in collaboration with Holly Cooke, founder of Lonely Girls Club, found that over half (58%) of women plan to invest more time, love and energy into female friendships than romantic relationships.

Thanks to social media, we’re bombarded by images of big group hangs, making it feel like everyone is together except us.“We constantly see people being social,” says Joseph, adding, “When you don’t feel like you have lots of friends, it can really just be a bit of a downer, and it feels almost quite embarrassing, especially as you get older.” I’ve wondered what’s wrong with me when I’ve gone weeks without seeing my friends. I might have Carrie’s c-c-c-c-curly hair (season 2, episode 18, for you non-loyalists), but where is my ride-or-die tribe?

Thanks to my lonely teenage years, I’ve spent most of my life pouring my all into building and maintaining friendships. While I am blessed to have several brilliant friendship groups, none have ever echoed the dynamic of Sex and the City despite our closeness. “I think shows like Sex and the City and Girlfriends definitely gave us a skewed perception of friendships.” agrees Joseph.

Extolling the virtues of female friendship is one of Sex and the City’s most enduring traits, and while I still feel overcome with emotion when Charlotte timidly suggests, “Maybe we could be each other’s soulmates”, I’m not going strive for that level of commitment from my friends anymore. Some of my closest friends are my soulmates and some of those soulmates I haven’t seen in six months. Real closeness doesn’t come from an unwavering (and frankly, unrealistic) commitment to weekly cosmos; it comes from allowing each other to grow and share our vulnerabilities. The truth is, we all feel a little lonely sometimes, and there’s no shame in that. So why do I still feel—for want of a better word—so icky when I think about reaching out to my friends when I do feel lonely?

“If we first try to understand what loneliness is, we can see how it originates from an internal belief that we are in some way inadequate,” says Allistair Richardson, a trauma-informed Mental Health Coach at Kaylo. He describes this feeling of inadequacy as a “catch-22,” forcing us further into ourselves as we feel threatened or judged. “This isolating effect causes us to disconnect from our community and brings on feelings of loneliness,” says Richardson. To overcome this, Richardson says we “need to engage with our external world and find trust in connection once again”.

Joseph agrees, “You have to go and be vulnerable and take a risk and hope to strike up conversation and connection with interesting people.” It’s one of the reasons Strangers in the City has a strict one-ticket policy, so everyone has to arrive alone. Like me, Joseph often goes to events alone, but she says despite meeting new people, she rarely forms a lasting connection. “I feel like I know loads and loads and loads of people, but I don’t feel deeply connected to them. Like, how many people could I call in a crisis? I’m really not too sure.” It reminds me of the SATC movie when, alone and *cough cough* also waiting for takeout, Miranda calls Carrie - “So, I thought that one of the perks of having a family was that you didn’t have to spend New Year’s Eve alone...” questions Miranda.

That episode was pivotal in reshaping my idea of happily-ever-after, but it also left me wondering whether anyone loves me enough to traipse across town (in a sequinned skull cap and pyjamas, no less) for me?

At 33, I’m trying to stop thinking that I wandered off-route on the path to adulthood and starting to question whether the clique, presented to us as the de-facto form of friendship by shows like Friends, Sex and the City, and How I Met Your Mother, was ever a viable or realistic option. “I feel like all of the stuff that I consumed growing up made me feel like I would be in my mid to late twenties with a group of friends, like a solid group of friends that I’d known forever. But actually it was never really like that for me,” says Joseph.

Does that mean I don’t feel a pang of sadness when I see my four former icons of adulthood staring out at me on an Instagram post as if to ask, ‘Wouldn’t you want to be us?’ sadly, no. But I’m trying not to let it eat me up anymore. As much as I’d love to live opposite my best friends and spend every.single.evening together like Monica and Rachel, or never have to stomach going to an event alone, I think my experience is far more common than Carrie’s. And don’t even get me started on those apartments and how anyone can fund such a lavish lifestyle from a weekly column.

The women of SATC seemed to have unlimited time and funds to spend with one another. Their plans were sacrosanct, and nothing—not a demanding job or an ailing relative—interrupted those SoHo dates. The lack of external stressors makes their lives desirable but ultimately unrealistic. Even Samantha’s brief brush with cancer is conveniently wrapped up in a few episodes.

For better or worse, real life revolves around jobs, bills, responsibility, family obligations and, increasingly, kids of our own pawing for our attention. All of which make life rich but also tiring! And this is what I think of when I start pulling myself out of my self-pity party on Friday. My friend is hosting her club night—the aptly named Silly Bitch Disco—and I could call up my own Stanny, chuck on a pair of gold lamé boots (very Samantha) and ‘toot toot beep beep’ on over, but that would require a level of energy I cannot muster after a week of work.

So, as it turns out, the answer to life’s inevitable bouts of loneliness and low moods isn’t always to “attend a fabulous party”. Sometimes, the answer lies in takeout for two (ordered for one) and binge-watching codependent friendships on screen; it’s much more satisfying and much less effort.

Lately, I’ve been lamenting the lack of weddings in my life. Sure, I don’t want to get married, but would it hurt one of my friends to put on a frothy white dress and throw a big party for all our best friends? Of course, I’m kidding (kind of, I do have a dress I’ve been dying to wear), but friends, colleagues, and kindly strangers have been quick to point out the flaw in my thinking.

Weddings are expensive, and according to new research from Experian, over one in ten of us have gone into debt by attending one. The same report reveals that attending a wedding costs guests nearly 20% of their monthly salary. The Maid of Honour and Best Man bear the brunt of this cost, spending approximately £211 more than other attendees.

“I think it’s insane that I’m expected to pay 1k for a wedding,” replied one embittered bridesmaid to my open call about soaring wedding costs. She’s not alone. When I asked for stories about the financial burden bridesmaids face, my inbox was flooded with tales of wedding woe.

“I wish brides would realise it’s their “biggest day”, not mine.” messaged *Amy, 26. She remembers the lurching feeling in her stomach as her phone blurted with news of another hen do. “The bride’s sister set it up, and as soon as I’d shown any interest, it was “Great! That’ll be £1,500 for a week in Marbella, here are my deets x””. Amy says she felt she couldn’t back out even though the trip was more than a month’s salary, and she didn’t feel she’d ever fully committed.

It’s become a right of passage for brides to expect their friends to fork out triple figures for their hen do, and it’s a vicious cycle. As Hattie, 37, says, “I’ve paid so much for my friend’s weddings over the years, I have a rough estimate in my mind for how much I expect them to pay for mine when the time comes.” Is this really how we should be viewing marriage? To quote the Black Eyed Peas, where is the love? And what’s the emotional cost of seeing friends as indebted to you?

Despite three in four bridesmaids saying pre-wedding celebrations are too extravagant and expensive, the trend shows no sign of slowing. “It’s no secret that the cost of living is also impacting both weddings and hen parties, but this isn’t stopping people from organising and celebrating the new chapters in their life”, confirms Dayna Isom Johnson, Etsy’s Trend Expert.

In a maddening twist, Etsy reports another burgeoning trend—the divorce party, which is being popularised by influencers like Sabrina Philipp who spent $30k (£24k) marking her newfound freedom. Look, I’m not entirely against the idea of celebrating a breakup (despite refusing to attend one myself), but if swaggering down the road, arms outstretched like Christ the Redeemer, was enough for Nicole Kidman, why isn’t it enough for us? I mean, she was married to Tom Cruise, so if anyone deserved to slingshot her wedding band into the ocean, it was her.

From marriage to divorce (don’t even get me started on baby showers), being a friend in 2025 is an expensive business. No wonder these bridesmaids needed an opportunity to offload. Read on for the honest accounts of 15 anonymous (and aggrieved) bridesmaids.

How much is too much to pay for a friend’s wedding?

“Why can’t they see its cripplingly expensive for us singletons?”

“A few years ago I was privately struggling with money and was heading to the airport for my fifth wedding of the year with less than £20 in my bank account, anxiously waiting for my wages to drop in.”

- *Emma, 30

“It’s changed my perspective on certain friends”

“The amount of uncomfortable positions we’ve been put in this year with hen dos, stag dos, and weddings where the hosts assume we have £1-2k to spend on a weekend has honestly blown my mind. It’s changed my perspective on certain friends and, in some cases, threatened friendships.

The worst one we’ve had is a wedding in the middle of the week in November (meaning we have to take 3+ days annual leave) where we’ve been told we must stay in accommodation on site that’s £300 pp per night, must buy certain outfits to be approved by the bride and groom, and are expected to be at and cover the cost of the rehearsal dinner and breakfast the morning after, too. As it’s one of my partner’s oldest childhood friends, we can’t say no, but I’ve found it difficult to swallow. So many couples have unashamedly put us in situations like this, leaving us stressing about money and dreading the day. I think it’s just the assumption that we have this money to spend that I find the hardest to digest - sadly, unlike them, we don’t.”

- *Louisa, 34

“A selfish part of me also wants to recoup everything I’ve put in”

“I’ve put in time, money and effort for so many weddings over the past decade and often worry that I won’t get the same level of enthusiasm when I get married. It makes me want something super toned down to keep other people happy - but a selfish part of me also wants to recoup everything I’ve put in.”

- *Caty, 29

“Take me back to the 1920s”

“We now live in a society where having a London hen that requires you to drop +£300, a hen abroad (we’re talking £500-1000k) PLUS the actual wedding (££priceless££)…And, then the happy couple’s gift suggestion of ‘a kind donation’ (£££!!) towards their honeymoon, is acceptable and the norm. Take me back to the 1920s. However, when it comes to mine, I’ll probably be doing the same.”

- *Andie, 36

“The only way to mobilise your friends once you enter your 30s is by getting pregnant or getting a man to give you a ring”

“A friend announced she was getting married abroad, and of course, the initial reaction was pure excitement. For me, honestly, it’s not so much about the wedding, but finally cashing in on that elusive friends’ holiday that has never quite happened. Although, it’s incredibly infuriating that the only way to mobilise your friends once you enter your 30s is by getting pregnant or getting a man to give you a ring. But then, reality kicks in. The chosen destination was not exactly my dream pick, and the cost was not exactly the cheap and cheery price tag promised. I will reluctantly pay and silently mourn the friend’s holiday that will now not happen for another five years at least”.

- *Kirsty, 27

“I’ve started Googling ‘how to say no’”

“Being a bridesmaid can be both a lovely honour and a financial curse - I’ve stepped into the role so many times now that I’ve started Googling ‘how to say no’ in case anyone else asks me…”

- *Jazmine, 40

“The bride suggested we all get matching tattoos”

“I once went on a hen party where the bride (who I wasn’t even that good of a friend with) suggested we all get matching tattoos of Calla lilies, which were her wedding flower.”

- *Kia, 37

“The gift registry is £200+”

“I’m stuck between buying a wedding present or buying a plane ticket to attend my friend’s wedding as the wedding is on the other side of the world, and the gift registry is £200+.”

- *Olivia, 28

“Attending weddings as a single woman has been a financial stab to the heart”

“I love celebrating the people who mean the most to me, but whenever I’ve attended weddings as a single woman, it has been a financial stab to the heart. Pricey hotels, flights, hens, celebration dinners, pre-wedding parties, post-wedding parties, expensive gifts…it can feel endless, especially when there’s no one to split costs with, and altogether would cost me almost £1k per happy couple.”

- *Hannah, 38

“She hired a make-up artist”

“When my best friend got married, she hired a second make-up artist (she had her own) for her mum, sister, and me (I was her Maid of Honour), I assumed that as she hadn’t mentioned it, and I certainly hadn’t asked for it, that she was fronting the cost, but I get a £300 bill about two weeks after the wedding.”

- *Nai, 27

“You shouldn’t complain about how much it costs - what did you expect!”

“No one will agree with me, but I really believe that if you helped to decide where the hen is and chose the Airbnb, then you shouldn’t complain about how much it costs, because what did you expect!? And please do not ask me to transfer £1.50 for some straws.”

- *Lucy, 25

“Life is too short to fork out hundreds of pounds for the sake of someone else’s happiness alone”

“I think how ‘worth it’ a hen is depends on the context surrounding it: am I very close to the bride? Is the getaway somewhere I’d genuinely like to go myself? Will I enjoy the company of the other ‘hens’ in attendance? If the answer to any of these questions is ‘no’, I won’t be going. No offence, but life is too short and money too precious to fork out hundreds of pounds for the sake of someone else’s happiness alone.”

- *Ellie, 32

“The admin is endless”

“This is obviously a privileged position because I’m quite a high-earner, but I don’t mind a lavish wedding, especially when it’s abroad and I get to basically have a holiday with my friends. What I *do* mind is the admin. The bridesmaids’ meetings, group chats, outfit approvals, Pinterest boards...it’s endless.”

- *Cara, 35

“I’ve essentially paid for a small wedding of my own”

“I’m happy for her, but I didn’t realise I’d be so financially involved in their union. Between the £200 dress, the £500 flight, and the £150 hen party deposit, I’ve essentially paid for a small wedding of my own.”

- *Jody, 28

“The bride demanded each bridesmaid have three looks”

“A few years ago, I was at a hen do in the Cotswolds and the bride demanded each bridesmaid have three looks: ‘bridal shower white’, Fresher’s neon (she met her husband at uni), and ‘something blue’. I basically live in black, so it would’ve meant buying three new outfits. I did buy some accessories, but honestly, it was beyond extra.”

- *Robyn, 40

Going to a wedding without a +1? Here’s how to make the most of it (and have fun)

Going to events (usually alone) is part of my job, but does that make the prospect of turning up and not knowing another living soul any less daunting? Absolutely not. I am forever haunted by the memory of going to a very chic fashion event at a prominent industry person’s home where everyone knew each other except for, yep, you guessed it, me. In a desperate attempt to shake me off, the host loudly proclaimed, “Look at that!” and when I turned back, she’d vanished—some party trick.

I have the dual curse of hating my own company and also being—at times—painfully shy, which means I move through life in fear of looking like an Edward Hopper painting—hopefully, that redhead in Nighthawks because at least she’s hot—(I never said I wasn’t vapid).

I recently attended one such event, which began with me skulking in the literal shadows of the sun-drenched terrace at Coal Drops Yard, voice noting my friend and colleague, Natalie, wailing, “I feel like I’m at a wedding, and everyone knows each other except me!” I looked out at the beautifully laid table set for 100 guests as part of Self Space’s Supper for the Soul (ironically in aid of combating loneliness) and debated fleeing. No one would even notice I’ve gone, I reasoned/sulked. All around me was the lively chatter of old friends. Or so I thought.

Later, when I’d muscled into the conversation of my two nearest table mates, a fellow journalist (hello, Alice!) and comedian Laura Smyth (more from her later), I discovered they’d also just met each other and—here comes the clanger—they’d also felt nervous about not knowing anyone else. Buoyed by this knowledge, I decided to find out how other people tackle the panicky business of going to events alone. Are we all just faking it? Is bounding up to strangers like they’re a long-lost friend the answer? I figured it’s high time I got to the bottom of it. Here’s everything you need to know about how to go to a wedding alone.

How to go to a wedding alone - five experts share their best advice

What's your best advice for attending a wedding or social event alone?

Fake confidence. Shoulders back, chin up, and have an easy interest in it all, looking on like an old relative who’s happy to be out of the house.

What things should people avoid?

Avoid desperately scanning the room for people you might know; it will make you look furtive - like you’re there to pickpocket or buy cocaine.

What’s your best line for striking up a conversation with someone?

“How do you know the bride and groom? Or organiser? What is your connection with the event?” It’s solid and gives people a chance to talk about themselves (which they love). And when they ask you, you can lie - you don’t owe these people anything.

Do you have any positive experiences of attending an event alone that you could share?

Lots - I was once at a rooftop supper with a Marie Claire journalist - now she asks my opinion on all sorts! I’ve made it, baby!

Weddings can stir up feelings of loneliness; what advice can you share about how to tackle this?

Treat yourself kindly in this space, and take care of yourself in ways that you can. It’s ok to feel lonely. It highlights something we need, want, or are trying to create space for in our lives. Use it as information for your future self and honour that. Don’t stay too long if it’s too much; seek out people at the event that create a more positive air for you. Manage how much you drink (remember it’s just a way of hiding mostly from what’s hard, and it’ll make you feel more rubbish in the long run), and plan something nurturing for yourself for the next day, so you have that to look forward to. Try to have at least one meaningful conversation while you’re there, perhaps sharing how you feel with someone. Only give out what you have in the tank; you don’t need to deplete yourself further.

How can readers overcome their anxiety about going to events alone?

I suggest not overcoming it but instead allowing yourself to feel it. Accept what you are nervous about and ask yourself what you need to make it easier for yourself. Be with it, honour that it is hard for you, and then meet yourself with compassion for it all. The harder we try to overcome or remove these feelings—which are very natural—the more consuming they can feel.

What’s your best memory of going to an event alone?

As a single woman in my early thirties, I attended many, many events solo. Weddings, birthday parties, engagement drinks – you name it, I’ve done it. I did it so many times I completely fell in love with socialising solo. The more I went, the more I was able to enjoy it. I always saw it as an opportunity to try something new or meet new people. There is so much to be gained by becoming a naturally confident person, and this is just one of the many ways you can strive towards that. I liked to tell myself, “Even if I have a terrible time, it will make a great story!”.

What’s your best line for striking up a conversation with someone?

For me, honesty is the best policy, and often, once people realise you are at an event alone, they open up and are more likely to include you in conversations or interactions. Women, in particular, can be great allies. There’s no shame in saying, “I actually don’t know a single person here!” it’s a great conversation starter and showing a glimpse of vulnerability can go a long way. Don’t forget, you’re unlikely the only person there alone. So when in doubt, seek the others out and form your own crew. Remember that people love to talk about themselves. Try giving someone a compliment or asking something interesting about them.

What things should people avoid?

A great visual exercise is to think about what sort of person you might be drawn to at a party and then do your best to embody that. Fake-it-till-you-make-it style. If you saw someone standing in the corner on their phone all night, would you be compelled to chat with them? Probably not. Confidence is sexy, and people are naturally drawn to it. Hold your head up high, shoulders back and smile! Don’t just sit back and expect people to approach you. I would encourage you to make an effort, step out of your comfort zone and strike up conversations. If you’re feeling shy, remember to ask yourself – “what’s the worst thing that can happen?”.

I always remind myself that I’m not the only one who might be feeling a bit uncomfortable or alone at an event. Before heading out, I pop in my earbuds and listen to some feel-good music to pump myself up. Once I arrive, I take a deep breath, stand tall, and walk in with a confident smile. Small changes like improving your posture and smiling can instantly boost your demeanour. We’ve all had those moments where we rush into an event, still fumbling with our bags, and end up feeling insecure. Taking a moment to compose yourself before you enter helps you avoid those awkward feelings and lets you step in with confidence.

What’s your best advice for attending a wedding or social event alone?

If you are unsure about your outfit or the environment, check out the venue ahead of time on Instagram or social media to get a feel of the vibe. That always helps me when I feel anxious entering somewhere new alone.

What’s your best line for striking up a conversation with someone?

Complementing someone’s outfit is ALWAYS a great way to start a conversation. Even if it’s just in passing or in the restroom - when you run into them again, you might feel more comfortable continuing another conversation.

Do you have any positive experiences of attending an event alone that you could share?

I recently went to LA and was honestly wanting to back out of an event due to anxiety moments before. However, I had got all ready and travelled all the way there for it, so I couldn’t let my anxiety win again like it does back home. I forced myself to go, and I met so many new friends. I honestly had a blast. At first, I felt like a loner, but then I just kept having little conversations with girls in passing and ended up making friends. I also just forced myself to go to a Nashville event alone, and from the second I walked in, I just went straight up to a group of girls and started talking. It can be scary at first, but I promise it’s all in your head!

This Morning’s Michelle Elman, 30, had been engaged for less than a day before finding out via Instagram that her fiance had been cheating on her. Here, she explains why the experience has made her question whether you can ever tell if someone is lying and the impact it has had on her career as a Life Coach.

I understand it makes a great headline: A Life Coach Got Dumped; Someone Who Gives Relationship Advice Had A Relationship Go Wrong! But, at the end of the day, I am not qualified as a life coach because of my life experiences; I am qualified because of my qualifications. You wouldn’t ask a doctor if they had your illness in order to trust their diagnosis.

Of course, a part of me worried this would make me less of a life coach. I wondered if anyone would take my advice anymore. After all, I’m trained to detect red flags, and I was unable to see them in my own relationship! But then I had to stop myself. This man had made me doubt enough. From our relationship to my memories to our love, I would not let him doubt my ability to do my job too.

When it comes to infidelity, there’s often an undertone of ‘there must have been signs’. We get told, “With every lie, there’s a tell”, and if you can pick up on the ‘tells’, you will know, unless you’re willingly burying your head in the sand or wearing rose-tinted glasses. This narrative is categorically false. I didn’t realise how false it was until I was in the position myself. The fact is, if someone wants to lie to you, they will. It is not your job to continually assess whether your partner is lying to you; it is their job to tell you the truth.

The only way a healthy relationship can work is if there’s trust - if the worst thing I did was trust someone I shouldn’t have, then so be it. I think we like to believe there must have been signs because we don’t like the idea that there’s a chance it could happen to us, too. It creates too much fear and uncertainty. It’s easier to blame the cheated party.

We have become a culture of red-flag detectors. ‘Red flags’ is a term that is deeply misunderstood and misused. Red flags are warning signs; they are different from deal breakers. Every human in the world has red flags, and if you run at the first sign of a red flag, you’ll never have a relationship, let alone a healthy one. At its core, the idea of ‘red flags’ puts the onus on the individual to detect them, and sometimes, they’re simply not detectable.

When it comes to cheating, there’s often a cliche that the cheater is the person who all your friends and family hate and warn you about, and when they tell you to steer clear, it falls on deaf ears. This was not the case in my relationship. All my friends and family loved him. If there is a person in my life more emotionally intelligent than me, it’s my life coach, and she met him, too. She thought we were a good match and created a lot of balance for each other. I often joked that my friends and family loved him more than me, and when we went on holiday with my university friends last summer, they made the same joke, saying that they were only using me to spend more time with him! Only one person said anything bad about him because she was concerned early on in our relationship that I had just gone for the ‘safe guy’. She said she wasn’t sure we were a match, but “at least he would never cheat on you”.

I reminded her of that statement last week, and she said she’d actually changed her mind about him on my birthday last year. We had gone away for the weekend with all of our friends, and she said the way he looked at me and the way he treated me, it was clear he adored me, and she had regretted being so harsh on him. If there is any solace, I find it in the idea I was ‘tricked’. I didn’t see something because I couldn’t have, and I wasn’t the only one.

We had been together for three years. Our lives were intertwined. His family became my own and my friends became his, and no one knew. Not a single person picked up on anything other than that we were a happy couple. And so my message to anyone in the same boat is to stop the self-blame. It’s not your job to detect lies; it’s their job to tell the truth!

Michelle Elman is a five-board accredited life coach, boundaries expert, and an ITV This Morning broadcaster. She is the author of several award-winning and best-selling books, her latest release being a children’s book named, How To Say No.

It’s 1 am, and I’m mindlessly scrolling the internet—my go-to pastime when insomnia hits. Then, a particular comment on TikTok stops my thumb in its tracks. “Fatherless behaviour,” reads a video of a woman dancing. That’s it. Just dancing. Just existing.

The comment hits me in a way that I wouldn’t have expected it to - personally. I have been slutshamed my entire life and I also happen to be estranged from her father, so it’s terrifying to know how little I’d have to do to be dehumanised by men on the internet.

It’s easy to brush this off as the behaviour of a few trolls, but this wouldn’t be true. The “fatherless behaviour” tagline that appears all over social media is just a small part of a wider problem. It’s hard to scroll anywhere, any time, without seeing a brazen attack on a woman for her sexual behaviour or perceived sexual behaviour. What made this woman appear “fatherless” was “dancing for attention” in a top that showed her cleavage. How little do women have to do to be accused of being promiscuous and then vilified for it?

What shocks me most about the way the internet has materialised slutshaming into a trend is the way it encapsulates my secondary school experience from 16 years ago. Born in 1997, I’m on the cusp of being a Millennial and Gen Z. That means I wear mum jeans and cringe when I hear people say “doggo”, but I also love Friends and remember what the world was like pre-internet.

With a foot on each side, I’ve watched, participated and been a victim of two different generations of slutshaming - they’re not that different at all, and that’s what makes it so horrifying.

When I was researching my book, Sluts: The Truth About Slutshaming & What We Can Do To Fight It, I realised many people wrongly assumed slutshaming was unique to the early noughties. I grew up in the early to mid-2000s against a backdrop of lad mags, Britney Spears being routinely questioned about whether she was still a “virgin”, and Paris Hilton being slutshamed for a leaked sex tape she didn’t consent to. By the time I got to secondary school, The Jonas Brothers were proudly flashing their purity rings. At the same time, Jordin Sparks implied women who don’t wear promise rings were ‘sluts’ during an awards show, and The Inbetweeners was airing, where slutshaming was a plot device. This—by no coincidence—was also when I was slutshamed by family members, boys at school, and even by a teacher.

Slutshaming was an undeniable part of 2000s culture, but it never truly went away. It just became less acceptable to be so obvious about it, particularly after the arrival of mainstream sex-positive feminism. So, it became more subtle.

Slutshaming headlines may appear less, but that hasn’t stopped people from my generation asking me what my husband or my dad thinks about the career I’ve built from talking about sex. It hasn’t stopped men I’m not even interested in from telling me my sexual history is too colourful for them to be comfortable with. It hasn’t stopped friends from trying to control how much cleavage I display on nights out.

It might be that subtlety that led people to believe the myth Gen Zers are the most sex-positive generation. There’s this idea that those of us born after 1997 are politically progressive, left-leaning and empathetic. Political engagement doesn’t automatically account for a positive sexual outlook. Looking around at my peers and the slutshaming we’ve faced, we may be the worst generation for sex positivity yet.

A study found that both men and women are put off dating people who have had a “promiscuous” sex life, which they define by a lot of sexual partners. My generation obsesses over “soul ties” - a concept that has 437.4 million views on TikTok and is essentially a rehashing of evangelical purity culture discouraging women from having too much sex, lest their soul split like a Horcrux. We’re also the generation dubbed “puriteens” who’ve brought a fascination with abstinence back into the mainstream and complain about there being “too much sex” on TV. Not sounding so sex positive, is it?

Now, my generation is even ditching the subtlety. Watching women and girls be called sluts, whores, and fatherless and told they are “for the streets” over behaviour as benign as dancing, wearing certain clothing or enjoying certain types of sex makes me feel like we’ve slipped through a portal and allowed slutshaming to be loud again, rather than something that happens behind closed doors. History is repeating itself. Low-rise jeans are back in fashion, David Cameron is back in politics, and blatant slutshaming is once again normalised.

Sluts: The Truth About Slutshaming & What We Can Do To Fight It by Beth Ashley (Penguin Random House) is published 9 May

Did I or did I not tell you that this was the era of the Loud Breakup?

We’ve had divorce parties, we’ve had cobwebbing—which, for the uninitiated, is clearing out the debris from past relationships—and now, people, we have a new tech tool solely designed to remove old flames from photos.

Borne from research showing that 62% of single women have at least one cherished photo ruined by a pesky ex, the photo editing software Photoroom and OkCupid have launched the aptly named “Ex-terminator,” which they say is “the world’s first AI-driven ex-eraser tool.” If only it extended beyond the digital world, am I right, girls?

Free, easy, and a little bit savage, depending on whether you’re the terminator or the terminated, the “Ex-terminator” allows you to use a magic brush to “paint” over your ex. Photoroom’s AI technology will then remove the unwanted ex and fill in the background. Essentially, it’s an easier version of Photoshop and an upgrade on the Snipping Tool.

The aim is to help singles start anew, but I can’t help finding it a bit dystopian. Sure, people have been clipping old lovers out of pictures for decades, but digitally removing people feels oddly more permanent. While physically cutting someone out of a photo (cathartic!) leaves a void that serves as a reminder that the space was once occupied by another person, with editing software, we’re all susceptible to being erased with not so much as a flyaway hair left to show we once stood in the spot next to our former amore.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the appeal. My boyfriend of eight years still finds it baffling that during his sister’s wedding photos, I purposefully (and kindly, IMHO) positioned myself at the end of the family line-up in case we broke up (in my defence, we’d only been together a year at the time), so they could fold me out of the frame. I am nothing if not a romantic. It’s a canny tactic that my friend Ellen said her grandma uses to hide her husband’s ex-wife. Alice, 27, says her mum paid a colleague to “professionally remove my ex from our graduation photos”.

Chartered Psychologist Dr Mark Rackley says that there can be psychological benefits to digitally removing exes from old photos. “If the ex was abusive, cheated or controlling, then editing them out allows you not to have to be triggered or traumatised by old photos of them,” he says. But there are downsides. Dr Mark says that cutting people out can also be used as a way of not dealing with your past and avoiding the reality of negative experiences.

Harriet Inglis, Head of Professional Practice at Relationships Scotland, recommends exploring your reasons for wanting to remove someone. She points out that the experience can’t be deleted, so she asks, what are you hoping to achieve? For Helen, 32, the motivation would only ever be vanity; “I would only ever do that if I just liked the photo of me—nothing else behind it but vanity.”

As is increasingly the case when a new technology launches, Black Mirror got there first. The 2014 Christmas special, White Christmas, introduced a human-blocking technology. In Charlie Brooker’s not-so-dystopian series, blocked characters would appear as blurry blobs with muffled voices. Once blocked, they’d have no means of communicating with the person who blocked them. Ten years since the episode aired, it’s not hard to imagine people employing this technology if it became available. We already block ex’s phone numbers, archive them from our feeds and mute their stories.

Relationship and dating Coach Kate Mansfield says there is always a balance in these situations. A healthy approach is a mix of facing things and allowing yourself time to process why a relationship ended. “Taking personal ownership is the best and fastest way to put a breakup and an ex to rest on your mind and heart,” says Mansfield.

“We know that the majority of people want to erase an ex from an old photo so they can use it on a dating app, and now they can thanks to the Ex-Terminator tool from OkCupid and Photoroom,” Michael Kaye, OkCupid’s Director of Communications tells me. If it wasn’t abundantly clear from the wedding photo fiasco, I am not a hopeless romantic, but this made me feel, well, a bit sad. OkCupid’s study found that 16% of you mercenaries want to use an existing photo on a dating app profile.

Kaye says the tool can help people overcome a breakup, but Inglis is dubious. “I wouldn’t advise it as a tool to achieve closure, as I think to fully process the ending of some relationships is a complex and nuanced exercise.” However, she adds that this all depends on the length and seriousness of the relationship. “A short light-hearted relationship may not need such reflection and therefore digitally removing an ex from an otherwise great picture might be all the catharsis necessary.”

As someone who takes an inordinate amount of photos (to the ire of everyone around me), I appreciate the frustration of tarnished photos, but if we start wiping out everything that no longer aligns with the most current version of ourselves, do we risk eradicating our histories? Mansfield worries that altering old photos might impact the accuracy of our memories. “Over time, memories naturally change, but editing photos may further contribute to a distorted perception of the past.” She says it’s essential to recognise that relationships—including their ups and downs— are part of personal growth. Social media is enough of a highlight reel as it is; my own Instagram archive has more photos than my main feed, but I draw the line at outright erasing my life. There’s Good, bad, and plenty of ugly, but I’ll never erase an ex.

If I were to get two lines on a test tomorrow, I would feel like I was about to become a teen mum. Tell me I’m not the only thirty-something whose mind hasn’t caught up with her body? I’m not stuck in some Peter Pan dream of never growing up, and my life certainly isn’t without responsibility and caregiving.

I don’t see myself as younger than I am, but the idea of motherhood feels like such an abstract concept that my thoughts haven’t changed much since my first pregnancy scare as a teenager. It’s a cruel irony that now, aged 33, I’m nearing becoming a ‘geriatric mother’, a horribly archaic description that reeks of Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest.

I’m far from the only woman who feels this way. Research from Bumble—which they’ve catchily dubbed the ‘co-mum-drum’—shows that more than 1 in 5 (21%) people in the UK see children as a traditional expectation that they don’t necessarily connect with or would choose for themselves.

“I very much want to have children and feel the clock ticking, but I also feel very passionate about my career and don’t want to lose the momentum of building a business,” says Ellen, 33. As a recent company owner, she feels she has to pick between having a career and being a mother. Almost half (45%) of British women believe that mothers feel more guilty about furthering their careers compared to just (18%) of men.

Can we blame them? Growing up, the media was splashed with stories about ‘selfish stars’ who put their careers before becoming a mother. Just four weeks ago, Hilary Swank, 49, announced the names of her twins on Instagram. The second comment on her post reads, “You waited 48 years to have kids, and you name them that?!”

Much to the chagrin of people who feel compelled to comment about other people’s lives on social media, I’m a DINK (double income, no kids), but unlike many of the DINKs on TikTok (DinkTok?) I have no strong feelings about not having kids. I don’t recoil at the word “childless”, and I don’t feel a desire to reclaim it in favour of the trending “child-free”, which has 1.5 billion views on the platform.

I’m not about to compile a list of all the reasons to never have kids, but that doesn’t mean the question doesn’t swim around my mind. As *Kelly, 36, says, “I think about if I will have children most days. It’s on my mind a lot, not to the point I lose sleep over it, but you know, it’s always there.”

My mum used to joke that I’ve never liked children, even when I was one myself. But here’s the catch: I now have two young nieces I adore, but that’s only added to the confusion. I can’t tell if my stance on not having children has wavered because I’ve seen firsthand how much joy and fulfilment kids can bring or if I’ve just started to feel the squeeze from society to settle down and sprog up. Corinne Linnecar, 32, says; “I feel like the whole societal pressure makes me question if that’s why I want kids or if I actually do.”

While I’ve softened to the idea of children, *Alice, 34, has experienced the reverse. “In my twenties, I 100% wanted children. Since I’ve been in my thirties, I’ve had doubts,” she says, adding that the life she’s built for herself has made her question if kids can be factored into it. “I’ve seen how much children change your life, yes of course for the better, but also making life more difficult, putting stress on relationships, changing routine and focus. They become your world. And that is a huge decision to make.” She describes her feelings today as “ambivalent.”

There are as many reasons to have children as there are not to have children; the Child Poverty Action Group estimates it costs £160,692 per child, and I do wonder whether this has any bearing on my own ambivalence about becoming a parent. Buying a home in the city where I work and have built a life for myself is out of my reach, as are many other traditional milestones - don’t even get me started on the exorbitant cost of getting married.

All this means that I have no blueprint for what family life in the city could look like. I find myself secretly wishing one of my friends in London would have a baby so I could see what the future might hold. I think we’re all quietly hoping for the same thing.

“I’m pretty sure I do want a family; I’m just not sure what that looks like yet,” says Lianne Mason, 33. She predicts that more people will start co-parenting with friends. Given the soaring cost of childcare and an increase in people raising families further away from relatives, she could be onto something.

While I love the idea of co-parenting with my friends, it does raise another niggling question - the longer I leave it, the less time my hypothetical child/children will have with their grandparents. While that’s true on a personal level, a new study shows that countries with older mothers have longer-living grandparents and vice versa. Alastair Hazell of The Calculator Site, who conducted the survey, says, “There are so many myths around whether it is good or bad that women delay having children.”

Hazell acknowledges the narrative around countries being in a “generational crisis,” which fans the fearmongering flames and puts the fate of entire nations on women over thirty—or at least that’s what it feels like. “I’m turning 34 next month, and I’ve had several meltdowns about this subject recently because I’m being made to feel like my time is almost up by society—it’s genuinely everywhere!” says Katie, 33.

Reassuringly, Hazell reports: “It is unsubstantiated to claim that grandparents might spend less time with their grandchildren purely because women tend to start a family later in life. This is more related to life expectancy, not the age of new mothers.”

“I think we’re made to feel like age is the only factor, and that’s just biologically not true,” says Corinne. It taps into something else I’ve been mulling over. I don’t want to spend time agonising over something that might not be an option. I can’t afford private fertility tests, and at my age, the NHS won’t investigate until you’ve been trying for a baby for a year, but what if you’re unsure about the baby in the first place?

Mixed messages around motherhood abound, from the rise in eerily wholesome ‘tradwife’ and mum-fluencer content, to #dinks. Just this week, Lily Allen’s statement that having children ruined her music career set the internet alight. Societally, we love a strong standpoint, but perhaps if we had more honest conversations about being on the fence, we might all be better informed and better equipped to make these important decisions. Body clocks are real, but seeing them as ticking time bombs isn’t the answer.

*Names have been changed at the request of those interviewed

Yesterday, Tuesday, 19th March, Nicholas Hawkes was convicted of sending an explicit photo via WhatsApp to a 15-year-old girl and a woman. He has received a 66-month prison sentence for this incident of sexual harassment.

Despite an increase in cyber-flashing—a study by Communia found that just over a third of respondents had been affected—this is the first time that an incident has been prosecuted. The case is part of a crackdown on cyber-flashing as part of The Online Safety Act, which made it a criminal offence punishable by up to two years in prison.

It comes after years of campaigning for cyber-flashing to be taken seriously. YouGov found that four in 10 young women have been sent an unsolicited sexual image. We know that flashing is a gateway crime that can lead to more violent offences, but up until now, cyber-flashing has all too often been regarded as a joke, skewering our collective understanding of the crime. Women have been left wondering if they’re allowed to feel offended or afraid, even, or if this is just 'a bit of banter'.

I probably would’ve said no if you asked me if I’d been cyber-flashed. If you asked me if I’d been sent an unsolicited dick pic, I likely would’ve shrugged it off; it happens to everyone, right? But I remember the exact moment I was last cyber-flashed. I was on a late overground home after going to the cinema with friends. The photos rushed through so quickly that I couldn’t turn my Bluetooth off to stop them. It felt like a bombardment. Though the incident (I’m loathe to use the word attack, although I feared it would turn into that) wasn’t physical, I felt my body hurtling into fight or flight mode. My head went fuzzy, my hands got clammy, and I felt my breath rising and falling unsteadily in my chest.

I fought the desire to let out any signs of unease/anger/fear (you name it, I felt it), aware that the perpetrator was nearby and craving a reaction. As the carriage emptied, I became increasingly anxious, knowing I was near someone who felt emboldened to send me unsolicited photos. I was already travelling alone and late(ish), so I was reluctant to get off the overground and wait 20 minutes for the next train. I also didn’t want to wait on a quiet platform with the potential perpetrator. As a woman, I’m used to feeling exposed, but this felt different, starker. I was the only woman in my carriage, so it was safe to assume the cyber-flasher knew it was me who was receiving the images, but I had no way of knowing which of the several men sitting near me was sending me photos of his penis. This power dynamic felt pronounced even as I tried to reason with myself that ‘dick pics’ are fairly normal. Later, I joked about it with friends when I sent the obligatory “Got home safe” message. Making light of a situation has always been my go-to coping mechanism.

Hannah von Dadelszen, the Deputy Chief Crown Prosecutor for the CPS in the East of England, where Hawkes was prosecuted, said: “Cyber-flashing is a degrading and demeaning crime which we know can leave a lasting impact on victims. We won’t hesitate to use this new legislation to prosecute offenders with the full force of the law.” I have to admit that this case—the first of its kind—validates my own experience. The incident isn’t one I think of too often, and I don’t see it as something that had a lasting impact, so even writing this, I feel the need to caveat it with some disclaimer to show people I’m not some uptight prissy, that I know how to take a joke.

The fact that my experience, though shocking and scary at the time, didn’t leave lasting scars means that under the new guidelines, an incident like mine would likely never face prosecution. Not only was Hawkes already a known sex offender on a suspended prison sentence for two incidents of stripping naked in public last year, but his 15-year-old victim was left “overwhelmed and crying”, according to a report in The Standard. The paper explains that prosecutors can judge whether to bring cases based on the impact it has had on the victim. Yet regardless of the victim’s reaction, the perpetrator’s action remains the same, and should that not be what is considered? After all, it isn’t the victim who is on trial. 

And herein lies the problem: women are often made to feel that we 'got off lightly'. I have a friend who, when reporting an incident of sexual violence, was told that it could have been much worse. Is that really how we're measuring crimes? The fact that our society's normalisation of misogyny and sexual harassment might now go against women who experience it but don't show any outward damage feels like a particularly cruel twist of the knife.

von Dadelszen is confident that the conviction should send a strong message to would-be perpetrators that "indecent exposure is still a criminal offence even when you're hiding behind a screen." She encourages victims to come forward and report it, but Scott Primmer, a criminal lawyer at Reeds Solicitors, is "sceptical that deterrent sentences will have the desired effect." As he explains it, perpetrators are usually not thinking beyond their own sexual gratification, so it's unlikely they'll consider the consequences.

While von Dadelszen adds that victims will be given lifelong anonymity, Julian Hayes, senior partner at Berris Law, notes that in reporting incidents to the police, victims' phones may also need to be examined by the police. As is painfully true for many sexual offences, proving guilt can be difficult. When it comes to prosecuting cyber-flashing—and many other sexual assaults, physical or otherwise—it too often comes down to 'he said, she said'.

Hayes suggests that in cases of cyber-flashing, a defence may be raised that the pictures were not unsolicited and/or that there was no intention to cause distress or harassment. This could mean that the police may examine the victim's phones to ensure that these defences do not apply.

"The new law of 'cyber flashing' is certainly a positive step forward in signalling that such behaviour is entirely unacceptable," says Primmer, but many women may find that the 'he said, she said' defence leaves a bitter lasting legacy.

Content warning: this article contains themes of sexual violence

In 1982, artist Jenny Holzer lit up a billboard in New York’s Times Square with the words, “Abuse of power comes as no surprise”. The work was unmissable and has since been beamed in countries across the world. Yet 42 years later, abuses of power continue to ignite surprise. 

The Angiolini Inquiry reveals a gruesome trail of offences, which include alleged kidnapping and the alleged sexual assault of a child, leading up to the murder of Sarah Everard in 2021. Wayne Couzens’ previous offences make for harrowing reading, but for many women, the missed red flags come as no surprise.

Lady Elish Angiolini concludes that Couzens should never have been a police officer, but we already knew that. What we didn’t know was the depth and depravity of the alleged offences that first started almost thirty years ago and include attempting to kidnap someone at knifepoint, raping a woman under a bridge and indecent exposure. The report is only part one of the Home Office-commissioned inquiry into his career.

Couzens was also reported to police eight times for exposing himself in the years before he murdered Sarah Everard in March 2021. The last reported incident was just three days prior. Flashing is known to be a gateway crime that can lead to more violent sexual offences, but it has historically been overlooked and under-investigated; in Couzens’ case, three separate forces (Kent Police, Civil Nuclear Constabulary and the Metropolitan) failed to investigate. Data from the Office for National Statistics shows a 40% rise in offences of indecent exposure and voyeurism between 2016 and 2021. The most recent report — almost four years ago — revealed that women and girls were being exposed to more than 200 times a week. That number has likely increased as abusers feel emboldened by a lack of retribution.

Despite police and politicians aggressively peddling the ‘few bad apples’ narrative, public trust in the police is understandably low. Metropolitan Police Officer David Carrick was revealed to be one of the worst sexual offenders in modern history. He, too, “had come to the attention of the Met and other forces on nine occasions prior to October 2021”. 

Following The Angiolini Inquiry, a police leader described being “aghast” at the “catalogue of missed opportunities and red flags”, but that shock is itself a privilege. 2016’s #MeToo movement revealed how far-reaching and widely tolerated misogyny and violence against women and girls has been in almost every corner of society. We are still grappling with the scope and severity of crimes committed by predators who were allowed to operate for years. They were uninvestigated but certainly not unknown.

The inquiry makes it plain that what the police have deemed low-level violence against women and girls has not been taken seriously, that’s if it’s been investigated at all. Harriet Wistrich, Solicitor and Director of Centre for Women’s Justice, argues that there not only needs to be better accountability of abusers but also for those “who fail to report wrongdoing and of managers who fail to stamp out misogynistic culture within policing units.” This sentiment should not be reserved for the police force.

A culture of silence and toxic tolerance has permeated every industry. We’ve seen it in high-profile cases like Harvey Weinstein, Donald Trump, and, more recently, Russell Brand, but what about the offences not committed by celebrities that may never come to light and certainly won’t make front-page headlines?

The widespread acceptance of sexism has not only protected the already powerful; it has granted men at every level a position of power. Abuse is not limited to titans of industry, as every woman who has had a manager brush up against her “accidentally” or squeeze her knee already knows.

The long-awaited report calls for police vetting systems to be overhauled, but it’s light relief for those who have been subject to violence, abuse and harassment. Of course, not every policeman is an offender, but an organisation that fails to identify abusers in its ranks cannot be surprised when a culture of disregard towards women seeps in. We see this in the low prosecution rates for crimes against women, which has led to one in two women feeling unsafe walking alone after dark in a quiet street near their home, according to data from ONS.

“Virtually all rape victims are denied justice”, reads a report into criminal justice outcomes for sex offences by Saunders Law. The same study found a 68% increase in rapes since 2016-2017, yet of the harrowing 67,938 cases that the police recorded between October 2022 and September 2023, only 1,631 were charged - just 2.4% of all cases.

Rape Crisis England and Wales notes that 5 in 6 women who are raped don’t report it, and 38% cite not thinking the police could help as their reason for not coming forward. Can we be surprised? The Metropolitan is currently investigating over 1,000 cases of alleged sexual and domestic abuses by its officers, and that’s just one force. 

“Violence against women and girls (VAWG) needs to be a genuine priority, and the public needs to see real change”, argues Harriet Wistrich. Until that happens, can we really be surprised when men act as if they’re invincible, buoyed by a society that allows them to act without fear of impunity? 

On the hunt for a sex app that's safe, secure, and simple to use? You're in the right place. Here at Marie Claire UK, we're all about promoting sexual wellness and know that, for some, dating apps aren't what you're after (we're all prone to the occasional right swipe, but might not be looking for a relationship). 

Tinder is notorious for being one of the best sex apps out there, but it certainly isn’t the only one. So, why use a sex app? As relationship expert Alex Griffiths explains, sex has been proven to be good for both your physical and mental health. "It has a huge impact on your mental health," he shares. 

How? Well, data suggests that if you masturbate or have sex once a week, the influx of oxytocin and dopamine seriously boosts your mood. "Taking a moment for release and to escape from worldly pressures is important for all of us, and frankly, what better way to improve our wellness," Griffiths goes on. Who needs a fitness tracker when you can enhance your quality of life with, well, sex?  

We've asked some of the best experts in the business to share their go-to sex apps - you'll find the perfect Netflix and chill buddy in no time. Trust us - there's an app for everyone.

Don't miss our guides to the best fitness apps, best yoga apps, and best sleep tracking apps, while you're here.

Testing process for the best sex app

Things like price, user experience, and quality of in-app navigation were considered - plus, how easy the app was to use.

Sharing their go-to- sex apps are our trusted board of pros, including: 

• Alex Griffiths, co-founder of Roam
• Julia Kotziamani, love, sex, and relationship coach
• Barbara Santini, psychologist, sex therapist and relationship adviser at Dime Piecela
• Jessica Leoni, sex and relationship expert with IllicitEncounters

15 best sex apps to try for casual hookups

1. Feeld

How does Feeld work?

Always wanted a threesome but never known where to find that special (extra) someone? Well, just like 3Fun, Feeld is a dating app to help you out. Feeld works much like Tinder; log on through Facebook (there’s an option to change your name), choose the composition of your group (2+1, or 1+1+1) and swipe through hundreds of potential matches in your area.

Why is Feeld one of the best sex apps?

This app has the ease of tinder, and much like that, most of the fun lies in the swiping. Once you’ve matched, how things proceed is up to you. Just remember to keep your friends informed of your whereabouts - taking extra precautions when meeting strangers is always advised.

What the experts think: 

Alex Griffiths, Co-Founder of Roam, says: "I definitely suggest giving the Feeld app a go if you're keen to connect with a community of sex-positive members looking to explore. I think it's one of the best sex apps because it brings interesting, open-minded people together at scale. It's worth a go, even if you’re just dipping your toe in.”

Kotziamani agrees, adding: "I’m currently in a non-monogamous relationship and we use Feeld to explore our kinkier side and for group sex. I like how upfront and respectful it is and the platform is pretty user-friendly."

Check out the Feeld website or download it for Apple or Android now.

2. Bumble

How does Bumble work? 

Bumble calls itself a feminist app; for any matches that happen, the woman must start the chat within 24 hours, or it disappears. It's become one of the best-known dating and sex apps on the market for helping people to build valuable relationships. Not the best option for casual flings, but definitely worth joining the millions who use the app if you're after something a bit more invested.

Bumble is a location-based dating app that follows the “swipe right or left” format that Tinder made so famous. When two people “like” each other's profile by swiping right, a “connection” (match) is formed and messages can then be exchanged.

Why is Bumble one of the best sex apps?

Pressure is high with that time limit, but it helps you quickly figure out whether that guy is worth the initial message. Plus, the control is totally in your hands, and you know that rules and safety regulations should be strict, as it's such a well-known and developed app.

What the experts think: 

Jessica Leoni, sex and relationship expert at IllicitEncounters.com says: "Bumble is best for choosy women. With the app, only the female in heterosexual matches can make the first move with matched male users. So initially at first, everything is done on the woman's terms. You can pick and choose exactly who you think is appropriate according to your needs."

Love, sex and relationship coach Julia Kotziamani agrees, adding: "Bumble is a great dating app for meeting people and has a less smash and dash vibe than Tinder." 

Check out the Bumble website or download it for Apple or Android now.

MC UK approved sex toys to shop now:

3. Kama

How does Kama work? 

Kama calls itself a sex coaching app and focuses on the idea of pleasure as a key component of your health. As per their website, their mission "is to transform how we experience pleasure and its role in our wellbeing. We want to help people of all ages, genders, and sexualities make sexual satisfaction a part of their everyday lives by connecting their mind, body, and heart."

Why is Kama one of the best sex apps?

Keen to learn new sex positions, learn the (literal) ins and outs of tantric sex and improve your sexual confidence? Then Kama is the app for you, as it offers all of this and more, with a focus on sexual wellbeing. 

What the experts think:

Alex Griffiths, Co-Founder of Roam, says: "For those looking for some direction on exploration, I'd highly recommend the Kama app as a starting point. Kama is great for anyone looking to better engage with their sexual wellbeing, and has much to learn for couples and solos alike. It's basically Headspace for sex."

Check out the Kama website or download it for Apple or Android now.

4. WeAreX

How does WeAreX work?

WeAreX is a shame-free, sexually liberated social network which encourages emotional and sexual exploration. According to the team, the dating app is groundbreaking in that it promises to revolutionise the way people connect.

Providing a safe platform, their aim is to enable members to "step into their true sexual selves" through connections with others who share their passions and curiosities.

It offers individual and couple accounts and options for shared or individual login details, too. Watch out for the icebreaker questions, designed to help you connect in an authentic way, and the "meet tonight" option designed for instant connections.

Why is WeAreX one of the best sex apps? 

Because it's sexually liberating and safe, too.

What the experts think: 

Julia Kotziamani, love, sex, and relationship coach, says: "For sex positive content, dating, parties, and socialising, I use this app and love it. It’s the only one permanently on my phone." 

Check out the WeAreX website or download it for Apple or Android now. 

5. Tinder

How does Tinder work? 

You'll probably know - nearly everyone has tried the app. Tinder has over 55 billion matches to date and is one of the front runners for a sex app that offers a bit of everything, from casual hookups to more serious dates. As their website says, "it doesn’t matter if you want to find love, a date, or just have a casual chat, you want an app that’s the right match for you. And it’s not always black and white – when you want to meet new people, your friends at Tinder can help you out with features designed to make the impossible possible. Dating online just got easier."

Why is Tinder one of the best sex apps? 

The proof is in the stats, really. Plus it's really simple to use - download the app and swipe left or right to skip or like other members' profiles. If they've swiped right too, you'll have a match and you can get chatting.

What the experts think: 

Jessica Leoni, sex and relationship expert at IllicitEncounters.com says: "While it is predominantly a younger person's app - a third of Tinder users are aged 18 to 24 - there are lots of people aged 35 plus giving it a go. Stats show a quarter of users are 25 to 34, and around 20% are aged 35 to 44."

"Given its popularity, you would be a fool not to give it a go if you are 40-plus and looking for some fun. Yes, you might well find some younger guys turned on by the whole Mrs. Robinson thing - and what is wrong with that? They could be a lot of fun and the sex could be great. You are only as old as you feel - get out there and see how it goes.”

Check out the Tinder website or download it for Apple or Android now.

6. Thursday

How does Thursday work? 

Perhaps surprisingly, Thursday only works on... yep, you guessed it, Thursdays. The new app is based around the premise that you should actually be having IRL dates, so only gives you a short but sweet 24 hours to chase those matches and arrange those dates.

It's invite-only, and according to the app, 110,000 lucky users are already signed up. Plus, catfishing is banned, and all users must be verified and prove their identity (with a passport or driver's license scan) pre-joining.

Don't worry if you don't live in London or New York - the app is available in Manchester, Birmingham, Cardiff, Liverpool, Glasgow, and Dublin, too.

Why is Thursday one of the best sex apps? 

Well, it's very talked about at the moment, semi-exclusive, and encourages you to get off your screen and spend more time actually out there dating... what's not to like? Plus, they're hosting members-only events from the summer. Enjoy.

What the users think:

Smudge897 says: "My kind of dating app! I’ve been using Thursday since it launched and I’m a big fan. The concept of the app really works for me and I’ve been on a few dates with matches from Thursday already. It’s great to cut the small talk and make plans off the bat, especially knowing that matches are expecting that."

"Having been on it since the start, I can already see its growth and how the team are taking feedback on board and making improvements to the user experience. I’m excited to keep using Thursday and to see what comes from it!"

Check out the Thursday website or download it for Apple or Android now.

7. Be Naughty

How does Be Naughty work? 

Designed for adults on the lookout for a new partner or love interest, Be Naughty lets you get straight to the point, actively encouraging no-strings-attached encounters. Sound up your street? Get downloading.

Why is Be Naughty one of the best sex apps? 

It's safe, easy to use, and brings together a community of like-minded individuals looking to hook up.

What the experts think: 

Barbara Santini, psychologist, sex therapist, and relationship adviser at dimepiecela.com, says: "I highly recommend this app to anyone looking to better their sex life, dating, and no-strings-attached relationships. With over 13 million users globally, Be Naughty is the app you need to satisfy your sexual needs. It’s easy to operate, fun to look for matches, safe, and fast. The like features allow you to connect with potential matches with a simple swipe in the gallery. Get to learn new naughty ways to spice things in your sex life from this amazing app."

Check out the Be Naughty website now.

More MC UK approved sex toys:

8. Lover

How does Lover work? 

Fun fact: 87% of people said they felt 'greater sex life satisfaction' having used Lover for just a week. Not bad. Lover promises to offer a science-based approach to sexual hiccups and issues and essentially acts as a personal sex therapist. Think research-based content and guides covering exactly what you're keen to explore sexually.

Why is Lover one of the best sex apps? 

As above, it comes complete with guides, videos, and educational games, so you can watch, listen, play and learn. Not only will it spice things up in the bedroom, but it'll help you educate yourself on how to improve your sexual wellbeing, too. Think feeling more relaxed during sex, getting connected with your partner, and expressing your sexual desires. Because having a healthy sex life = better health generally. Hear, hear.

It's free to download but to unlock all content, you have to pay a £9.99 weekly subscription fee.

What the users think: 

Kevin_Mackey says: "Amazing at the insight and connection to me. It feels as if the author is or has been on the path I am walking. How quickly and accurately I was able to identify areas and reflections about me and my experiences."

"I truly feel the positive possibilities about making amazing improvements and changes in my our sexual journey."

Check out the Lover website or download it for Apple or Android now.

9. HER

How does HER work? 

Forget Grindr, Her is a hook-up app for LGBTQ+ women, by LGBTQ+ women. While it sells itself as more of a lesbian/bi/trans community rather than a dating platform, it’s one of the most popular apps for the audience in the entire world. Beyond meeting other like-minded individuals, you’ll also be able to find out about gay-friendly news and events going on in your area so you can take things offline.

Why is HER one of the best sex apps? 

There aren’t enough apps out there for our LGBTQ sisters and as far as they go, this is one of the best. We love the news and events updates, too.

What the users think:

JustMeAshe says: "I downloaded this app by recommendation of a friend to branch out and explore my pansexuality more than I have been able to in the past. I really liked the app and I made some friends on there but the biggest thing that came out of this app is my now girlfriend of 4 months."

"I didn’t expect anything from this app, was going to just keep things casual but this girl is literally my world, my literal better half and soulmate and it’s been probably the best 4 months of my life. I don’t think I would have ever met her if it weren’t for her app. It allowed me to meet someone outside of my small town and it’s been the best thing to have happened to me truthfully. She is truly my best friend and my world."

Check out the HER website or download it for Apple or Android now.

10. IllicitEncounters

How does it work? 

The UK’s largest dating site for married people, Illicit Encounters is designed to be “discreet, safe, and fun” for those who are already in committed relationships. 

Many modern couples are turning their backs on monogamy in order to embrace open relationships, but already being married or attached can be a major deal breaker for people on traditional dating sites - making it tricky to find potential partners. Illicit Encounters make this easier by matching you with people who are in a similar situation who are also looking to date outside of their committed relationships.

Why is Illicit Encounters one of the best sex apps? 

The site creates a non-judgemental, no-pressure environment for members. Unlike other sites, members can remain anonymous with password protection on photographs, to protect their identities.

Do note, though - it's a sex site. They don't currently have an app.

What the experts think: 

Jessica Leoni, sex and relationship expert at IllicitEncounters.com says: “You are never going to stop people from having affairs but if you are feeling the itch to stray far better to do it with someone who is in the same boat and is looking for a bit of discreet fun. Lots of people having affairs have no intention of leaving their main partner and just need the excitement of a fresh relationship. That is what IllicitEncounters.com provides - lots of fun, minimal complications.”

Check out the Illicit Encounters website now.

More MC UK approved sex toys:

11. HUD

How does HUD work? 

With a tag line like "why be limited to one option at a time," you know what you're getting with HUD. Join nine million users on the casual dating app by linking your Facebook profile or mobile number and you're off. No strings attached.

Why is HUD one of the best sex apps? 

It'll definitely help you on your no-strings sex quest, but be warned - people can join anonymously, which does compromise the quality of people you're meeting a little. Although their video chat does have an auto blur safety feature.

What the users think: 

Ender5200 says: "So I’ve been using the app for about 2 months now on and off and it does what it is intended to do. so much better than all the other so-called hookup apps... in fact, I would go as far to say this is better than the pure app (if you know what that is). But it does have some drawbacks. It has some great safety features to keep only the right people on the app, but that also means some people get permabanned for no reason and not told what they did wrong."

Check out the HUD website or download it for Apple or Android now.

12. Pure

How does Pure work? 

Great if you want to find no strings sex right now. Once you’re a member, you submit a request and state whether you're looking for a man or a woman and where you’d prefer to meet. You’ll then be given some potential matches.

Why is Pure one of the best sex apps? 

Great for privacy. Your photo and tagline are only displayed for an hour at a time, which also means you'd better move fast.

What the users think: 

Keeley Bennett says: "Definitely the most female-empowering dating apps currently on the market."

"I’m genuinely into one-night-stands - they're just such an exciting thing to do - but I obviously want to have the highest level of security possible when looking for one. Neglected by many girls is data security and anonymity as well. There is no reason to share your social media profile, to share a lot of pictures and give out details on your life. Pure offers the ability to create chats which automatically delete themselves - you can video chat with virtual masks and you can activate the automatic destruction of pictures you send to someone after a fixed time frame."

"It’s not pseudo-anonymity like Tinder or Lovoo, it goes much much deeper than that. This is why I recommend Pure for women looking to have a casual dating experience, as it’s the safest option out there right now. While there are certainly always “creeping” men on every app, Pure has a very responsive support team. Once when I used it, a guy brought up zoophilia. I connected with a support team member and received an answer within minutes. Five stars, I hope this start-up is going to bloom and stick to its core values."

Check out the Pure website or download it for Apple or Android now.

13. Diskreet

How does Diskreet work? 

An app that keeps your naked photos, selfies, and sex videos safe and secure. You can only access the files if you and the other person(s) involved enter passwords. The idea behind this is that only you and your partner can watch your previous bedroom antics together.

Why is Diskreet one of the best sex apps? 

Good for couples or friends with benefits who want to spice things up in a safe way. 

What the users think: 

JassonOnin says: "Great idea but needs a few tweaks. I finally found an app that does private messaging through an app that seems to be secure and that only allows one on one conversations to avoid the dreaded “I accidentally messaged my mom scenario”."

"I understand the concept is it is geared for people in relationships that could go south but narrowing its use too tightly will turn a lot of people off (This apps advertised functions are essentially telling you to download this app if you don’t belong in your current relationship and nobody will use it as it is explicitly telling the other person you don’t trust them), especially if they are in long term relationships or want to use the programs function for business."

"I feel that if they were to focus more on trusting relationships by allowing an option to access to photos even without permission at all times. It feels too much like babysitting in the conversation."

Check out the Diskreet website or download it for Apple or Android now.

More MC UK approved sex toys:

14. 3Fun

How does 3Fun work? 

3Fun recommends profiles based on the GPS and users' preferences. If you want to like someone’s profile, you can tap the heart button. If you don’t like a profile, you can tap the “X” button. Whenever you like a profile and that person likes your profile, then you both become matched. It is Free to chat with your matches.

3Fun is mainly aimed at individuals looking for threesomes, and allows couples to chat synchronously from one account - If new users choose the 'couple' option when they initially create their 3Fun account, they will both be able to log in to that account from two different mobile devices and chat with others at the same time.

Why is 3Fun one of the best sex apps? 

3Fun is the fastest-growing dating app in its field. Most of the important features are free. There are a lot of members using the app who are interested in these kinds of “three people” arrangements. The unique photo verification feature helps its users avoid meeting the fake and scammers. It previously had some data privacy issues, but a rep said to MC: "Since the app’s vulnerabilities were discovered in 2019, we've done a comprehensive overhaul of its security and safety features that fully protect user data from leaks, breaches, and vulnerabilities. It now has a Certificate of Penetration Testing, too."

What the users think: 

Nolank270 says: "Good looking people but missing a lot of features. The concept of 3Fun is great as a location-based swipe app, and a good portion of the people are fairly attractive. However, there are some big holes in a few of the features."

"One of the biggest needs is to be able to sort and search messages and matches. For example, we traveled to Portland recently, then Dallas, and now back to Florida, but our matches and messages are all jumbled up and it’s cumbersome to sift through them to find who is currently local. What happens when we are back in Portland? How do we then sift back through the hundreds of matches? Suggestion - make the match/message list searchable for terms and other info AND sortable to location, status, etc. It would instantly make this app more usable to actually meet others."

Check out the 3Fun website or download it for Apple or Android now.

15. iPlaysafe

How does iPlaysafe work? 

Ok, ok, so not an actual sex app per se... but an important sex app of another kind to have on your radar. iPlaySafe App is a new informative and educational sexual health and wellness app that encourages you to take sexual health testing into your own hands.

Encouraging users to make better informed, more open decisions by means of sexual education, it allows users to order STI tests easily and discreetly, creating a safer physical and digital environment for all ages and communities.

Why is iPlaysafe one of the best sex apps? 

The team works with reputable partners, such as Preventx, plus it's normalising sexual health one step at a time.

What the experts think:

Co-Founder Bianca Dunne says: “The rate of STD infections today continues to rise - and unfortunately there’s still a shame and stigma associated with testing. This will help make getting tested easier, and also - asking someone’s status, which can be so awkward!"

Check out the iPlaysafe website or download it for Apple or Android now.

Shop more MC UK approved sex toys now:

Can you die from a broken heart? It’s a question almost a quarter of us have likely asked ourselves—or typed into Google, as my friend Ophelia once did. Studies show that 43% of Brits have experienced the physical effects of heartbreak (begging the question, what’s wrong with the other 57% of the nation?), yet often, this side of a breakup is kept in the shadows, shared only with the algorithm.

A breakup can be a maddening experience at the best of times (an oxymoron if ever there was one). The lack of sleep, racing thoughts and inability to stomach more than half a grape (true story) create an unsavoury cocktail of confusion, hurt and—of course—the seven stages of grief.

We all know the signs of falling in love—butterflies in our tummies, flushed cheeks, clammy hands, maybe even a little low-level nausea (exciting!)—but when it comes to love loss, how much do we understand about what’s happening to our bodies?

The most common and well-known side effect of heartbreak is a loss of appetite: Helen, 33, remembers, “We were on a break and I remember being unable to eat even a piece of falafel from a wrap I’d bought for lunch.” As Anna, 35, put it: “They break our hearts and then take away the one last good thing—food”.

According to reports, the second most common side-effect after not being able to eat is not being able to sleep, just like the Angie Stone song. As an insomnia sufferer, it doesn’t take much to derail my bedtime routine, and nothing does that quicker or more efficiently than a heartbreak.

Despite physical symptoms ranging from trouble breathing and chest pains to heart palpitations and physical aches, only 18% of us have taken a sick day to deal with the aftermath of a breakup. This is an even grimmer statistic when compared to the 61% who reported that their physical health took a toll when dealing with the emotional turmoil of a breakup.

Heartbreak has been an enduring muse throughout culture, inspiring countless works of art, music, literature, and film. From classic novels like Romeo and Juliet to pop ballads like Adele’s Someone Like You. Lovesickness has a stronghold on culture, yet when it comes to the most concerning side effects, we’re all a little clueless.

So, with Valentine’s around the corner and, with it, a trail of broken hearts, here’s some advice for how to heal a broken heart, along with some real-life tips from the Marie Claire UK team.

Advice on how to heal a broken heart

1. Be kind to yourself

“It’s completely natural to experience the grief and trauma that can come with a heartbreak. Let yourself feel all those feelings, but try to focus on accepting and rebuilding yourself after your period of grieving. Your mood and mental well-being are as important as your physical health” says Dr Katie Tryon.

2. Try a new look

“Never underestimate the power of a fresh haircut. I’ve always found something wonderfully symbolic about sloughing off dead ends (and dead-end exes, etc.) A commemorative, post-break-up chop (be it a blunt bob or new fringe) has always made me feel a little bit more confident in hard times.” — Natalie Hughes, Freelance Fashion Editor

3. Maintain healthy mental habits

Tryon suggests that we “Incorporate healthy mental habits, such as journaling, using affirmations or practising gratitude to shift your focus. I’m a big advocate of talking therapy, whether it’s counselling or cognitive behavioural therapy.”

4. Keep a balanced diet

“Unlike the movies, pints of ice cream, endless supplies of chocolate and binge drinking will likely make you feel worse. Instead, stick to a healthy and balanced diet to help care for your gut during a stressful time. Eat plenty of rich probiotic and prebiotic foods to keep it in tip-top shape,” says Tryon.

5. Try a new hobby

No, really. Fashion writer Sofia Piza took on embroidery after her break-up. I hope it looked like this.

6. Listen to empowering music

Chaka Khan was made for this moment. As the writer of this piece and serial heartbreak sufferer, I feel passionately about the power of music. My friend once shared a Spotify of empowering female songs—think Destiny’s Child Survivor and Sunshine Anderson's Heard It All Before—with the vaguely ominous message, “Only you will know when the time is right to listen to this”. Since then, the playlist has done the rounds in my girl group, with each new lovesick recruit adding a few hits of their own.

7. Keep moving

Tryon says: “Staying active is always a good place to start to clear your mind and distract you from the distressing feelings of heartbreak. It doesn’t have to be for long periods or of high intensity, it could be taking a 5-minute walk around the block or stretching while waiting for the kettle to boil.”

8. Get a change of scenery

“Book a trip away,” advises Senior Beauty Editor Katie Thomas, who went on a last-minute weekend away and then a random festival following heartache.

9. Understand the link between mental and physical health

“Whether you’re experiencing heartbreak or not, it’s always important to acknowledge that your mental health can, in turn, impact you physically. Findings from the Vitality Health Claims Insights Report 2023 found that focussing on mental health reduced the likelihood of hospitalisation for physical conditions,” recommends Tryon.

Bumble's predictions for 2024 dating trends make for some uplifting reading. The likes of breadcrumbing, ghosting, cushioning, and zombieing have plagued the dating app world over the last few years, but Bumble's list of dating trends for 2024 suggests we could be headed towards a much healthier landscape. 

Last year we saw themes like having a 'love-life balance' and looking beyond your usual 'type'. Next year, some of the key ideas are around sharing the same ethics and values, as well as emotional vulnerability being one of the most important parts of a relationship.

Naomi Walkland, Bumble’s Vice-President for Europe, said: "In 2023, we identified trends on love abroad, new boundaries, and a more open approach to typecasting. Intertwined with our dating lives, we saw societal conversations on misogyny, women’s rights, and social issues that left many exhausted.

"In our research, we’ve seen that these cultural conversations have impacted the way that people on Bumble are dating – empowering their sense of self and seeking people who value what’s also important to them, whether it’s social causes, lifestyles or just their favourite sports team."

Naomi also explained how single people are becoming more open to going against rigid criteria when it comes to dating. "We’ve also seen that singles are increasingly looking inwards, unpacking expectations around age, perfection, and timelines, and seeking people who are more vulnerable and accepting of who they are," Naomi explained. 

She coined 2024 the 'year of self' with daters their values and beliefs first and seeking out those who do the same. "2024 will bring a year of self," she continued. "With people more empowered than ever to prioritise what they value and what they will not stand for, leading to a new clarity about what they want in their romantic lives.”

Value-led dating

Bumble found that 25% of people think that it is key that their partner actively engages with politics and social causes - and that being passionate about political views makes them more attractive.

The survey also found that women in particular are less open to dating someone whose political views differ from theirs, with one in three women seeing it as a big turn-off if someone they are dating has different political views. A partner who isn't aware of current issues in society was also seen as a disadvantage. 

Cross-generational romance

While values and political leanings are up there as some of the most important factors when finding a partner, other more shallow factors such as age, have become less of a priority. One in three women said they've become less judgemental towards age gaps in the past year, with 59% of women surveyed saying that they're open to dating someone younger than them. 

Slow dating 

In 2024, it's all about quality over quantity, with 31% of those surveyed opting for 'slow dating'. Bumble describes this trend as 'having deeper or longer conversations to get to know a potential partner, and it means not being offended if a match doesn't want to meet up right away'. This relates to the stat that 58% of singles are actively trying to be more open about their mental health and are making an effort to slow down

Emotional intimacy 

Emotional intimacy is a key player when it comes to dating in 2024. One-third (32%) of those surveyed believe emotional intimacy is more important than sex. While 78% of women said their partner needs to understand the importance of both emotional and physical intimacy.

"It is exciting to see people continue to lean into self-acceptance and vulnerability as the foundation of healthy and equitable relationships," said Bumble's sex and relationships expert Shan Boodram. "When we are kinder to ourselves, we are able to make more meaningful, purposeful, and intentional connections both online and in real life."

Male vulnerability 

With the rise of influencers encouraging a toxic view of masculinity relating to male dominance, it's no surprise that women are looking for men who are unafraid to show their emotions and take a softer view on what masculinity means. 

One in four men also stated in the survey that they have actively tried to become more vulnerable and open with people they are dating - with some positive results. One in four found that this new-found openness improved their mental health, with 32% of men citing being open and vulnerable the most important part of being in a relationship. 

"These trends highlight a positive shift toward celebrating who you are, as you are, moving away from traditional timelines, redefining outdated expectations, and seeking shared values," relationships expert Boodram continued. 

"I look forward to seeing what 2024 holds for the Bumble community as they continue to bring their most authentic selves to the table and make kind connections."

Happy dating!

Viola Davis is a true trailblazer - using her platform as a Hollywood icon to push boundaries, inspire change and pave the way for new generations of women.

An EGOT winner, best-selling author and soon to be director, she is empowerment personified - determined to instil self worth and love in all those around her.

It's no surprise therefore that Viola is one of the faces of L'Oréal Paris, encouraging confidence and the beauty in ageing to women everywhere.

This Cannes Film Festival season, L'Oréal Paris has been celebrating women in cinema, from the red carpet to the big screen.

As part of the celebrations, MC's Jenny Proudfoot and Sofia Piza sat down with Viola to talk about the beauty of ageing, changes in Hollywood and the greatest life advice she has received. 

We are here for Cannes' 76th year. What would you like to change about the film industry?

Oh my goodness, opportunity - an opportunity to shine. A lot of people want change, but they don't want to change. There is a sense of status out there that every one wants to be on top. If I had opportunity, Viola Davis would have been Viola Davis when I was 28. But there was just a line here and two lines there - that was all that was out there for a black woman that looks like me. That's one thing that needs to change, and the other thing is that we have to be committed to that change. We have to understand that it's going to cost us something and what it's going to cost is discomfort.

What makes you feel your most empowered?

Showing up and advocating for myself. And I don't mean with spa treatments, healing treatments or losing weight. I mean showing up for myself when people overstep my boundaries, and fighting for myself as much as I fight for other people when I'm hurting or feeling isolated. As women, we have to understand that we are wired for connection and there is a need for allyship. Every single year when we talk about female empowerment, we talk about the need for more of a spotlight to be put on women. And then what happens is there's such a separation between the young and the older, between the white and the black, the women of colour and our Caucasian counterparts. And we don't understand that there is strength in the collective allyship of helping someone who doesn't look like you. And I have to believe that there is synergy in all of us finding a way back to each other. It certainly would help me - I wish I had it earlier. But I would say on a day to day basis for me, I have to show up for myself. And when I show up for myself, I can then connect with others. When I don't, there is a great wall right there that is impenetrable.

L'Oréal's messaging is all about confidence and the beauty in ageing. What does that mean to you?

What that means to me is that it's a privilege to age. And that's why I love that so many of their products say "age perfect", not "anti ageing" - because ageing is perfect and it really does feed our beauty. If you're privileged enough to be in this life for long periods of time, the whole feeling of worth and value is a foundation of life. And it's nothing that you barter with, there is no prerequisite to worth. You know, in the generations before, we hid behind masks, we hid behind A-line skirts, behind perfectly applied makeup, wax floors and dinner on the table every day at five. We hid behind that, and what you saw was a whole generation of women just crumbling internally. And I believe that this generation and the generations that came after the 50s now reject that. They understand their truth and their vulnerability. They understand owning their story, owning their power, and understanding mental health. And I think that has made us even more beautiful - I think that's what connects us to the world. 

What would you say are your L'Oréal Paris Cannes essentials?

I'm going to say the Revitalift serum - probably because I used it this morning. I like the acid peel pads. And I love their new matte lipsticks. British Airways lost my baggage on my way to Cannes - but I'm cool because L'Oréal were so nice. They gave me a huge bag of products, and after I put on that lipstick and the serum, I felt cute.

As a record breaker and history maker, what advice would you give to anyone coming up in your footsteps?

My advice is always the same - you have to honour yourself. There's a quote that I actually put on my Instagram page which says: "How silly of me that I forgot that I'm the love of my life". And I want women to know that. I want women to know that we're the loves of our own lives. I want them to know that when it comes down to disappointing other people, and disappointing yourself, you've got to choose other people every time. That's your path in life - to disappoint as many people as you can to avoid disappointing yourself. And in that way, you keep your flame alive. Your flame is your joy, your story, your purpose, your gift. And when you do that, you will leave something on this earth that means something to someone else. But more importantly, you're leaving something behind that meant a whole lot to you. It's not about making history. I know some people set out to make these records - like how much gum can I chew in one day - but I think the purpose is leading an authentic life. That's the only way that we can get back to loving each other because that's what it's all about, love. You can only be as connected to other people as you are to yourself, and it is the birthplace of everything - your self love, your creativity, your connection, your confidence, everything.

What is the greatest advice that you've ever received?

Oh, that was from Miss Cicely Tyson. She said, "What is for you is for you, Viola. And what is not is not." She told me that before she passed away, and I love that. It's about staying in your own path. She told me about a job that she turned down, which was a big one. And the day she turned it down, she got The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, which put her on the map. And it not only changed her life, but it changed the lives of so many little girls, me being one of them. So, what is for you is for you, and what is not is not.

What for you is the greatest thing you've done in your career?

Writing a book is the greatest thing I've done in my career. That book was very liberating and healing for me because it challenged everything. First of all, I didn't know that I could do it, so it challenged my courage. And then what I wrote also challenged my courage. And because I had to have a clear message, it made me find another voice and purpose for myself, even with just that first chapter that I wrote. And it's not easy, because you're talking about your family, and you want to honour them. But then you also want to honour yourself, and you want to honour your truth. And the two have to mutually coexist, so that was hard. It helped with my memory too - how I remember things and what I choose to remember. But I have to tell you, the memory thing was the most difficult. I always tell people that my book is still 30% of who I am. And it really is, because there are certain things you don't remember, or that you do remember but you haven't processed yet. And then there are certain things that you simply don't want to share. And so what you get is 30%. But the experience is the greatest thing I've done in my career. It has been unbridled joy for me.

You have achieved EGOT status and are now a best-selling author - is directing your next venture?

Absolutely, but I need some space to learn how to do it - you need to breathe. And I don't have to be perfect - there is no such thing as perfection. But I do have to be a little bit more confident. Someone I knew long ago - a great director called Lloyd Richards said that's where he made the bridge between being an actor and becoming a director - that he wanted to see other actors fly. He was OK with just watching them fly - and that's what I want. I want them to fly. I don't always have to be the one in the story - I could be the orchestrator of it.

What would you say gives you the most bravery and confidence within yourself?

The most bravery I have is when I dare to share what is within me. When I dare to be vulnerable is when I feel the most brave. And when I hide and suppress it, that's when I disappoint myself. Because what I am saying is that I'm not worth it. And my pain and who I am inside is worth it - it's a part of who I am. And I don't want to leave Viola behind. I think that's probably my purpose - not to leave her behind.

Visit the L'Oreal website for more information on L'Oreal Beauty.

From ghosting to fleabagging - dating is a complicated game, with more terms than we know what to do with. 

Last year, singletons had to add terms such as eclipsing and orbiting to their dating dictionary in a bid to figure out how their dates were treating them. So, if they baffled you, then welcome to a host of new terms.

In fact, the biggest trend Match.com have seen emerging this year is 'thawing'.

 As confused as us? 

According to the dating site, thawing is when we get back together with someone that we had previously frozen - aka dating someone we previously didn't think was right for us - due to timing or other issues.

The dating website has also predicted that this Sunday (8th January) will be the most popular date this month for singletons on dating apps - so brush up on those terms sharpish - while, if you want to stand out, here are some tips.

Of course, if you buy into the thawing trend then be mindful. 

A Match.com spokesperson says: "Rekindling may take time, but with a dose of patience and leaving space for the other to rebuild dialogue, singles are hopeful it will lead to a date well worth the wait."

Other terms to look out for, according to the dating site this year are, consciously couponing - a take on Gwyneth's term, it's a way for you to find 'cheaper dates', especially with the cost of living bearing down on us. Cannonballing may also be a big term this year, referring to jumping into a relationship quickly. 

So we could be thawing out our exes, cannonballing into a relationship with them within months and then saving some dosh by consciously couponing with them. 

At the end of 2022, Tinder revealed daters' favourite emoji of the year and what singletons cared about last year. According to the dating app, the fastest-growing emoji globally is the parking symbol, with other popular emojis found on daters' bios including the heart and plaster, representing you're mending your broken heart.

Oh, and the red flag was making appearances too. 

Conversations around domestic abuse peaked in 2020 and 2021 as the pandemic and subsequent lockdowns saw a spike in intimate partner violence. Now in 2022 as we face a cost of living crisis, it's time to talk about financial abuse. 

Often misunderstood and unrecognised, financial abuse is underreported and underdiscussed as a form of abusive behaviour. But as Marisa Bate reports, it forces many women into poverty and despair. Now, at last, banks and the government are taking it seriously.

"We met when I was only 19. I was very insecure about how I looked, so when somebody came along and was willing to call me their girlfriend, I couldn't believe my luck." What Rosie*, 31, didn’t know then was that she was about to enter a five-year abusive relationship that would leave her with PTSD, needing reconstructive surgery - and financially devastated.

 Throughout her violent and emotional abusive relationship, Rosie’s ex-partner also demanded her pin codes and cleaned out her bank account by taking out loans and store cards in her name, and leaving her responsible for finding work to support them, even when she was pregnant and then looking after their child.

"You’re made to feel bad whenever you dare to ask for money; you’re constantly kept in this poor financial state. And what people don't understand is if you're being abused, you do not feel confident to say in an interview ‘employ me, I’m employable’. You feel like you have nothing to offer because you’ve been worn down," says Rosie. "There are so many factors to economic abuse that are just so damaging. You are kept in a state of confusion, fear, low self-esteem, you are isolated."

When they finally separated, and he was put in prison for his violence, Rosie was left with mountains of debt. "The letters started coming in. And it was thousands and thousands and thousands of pounds. I would ring the debt companies and plead with them but they didn’t listen. I moved into a house that had no flooring, no furniture, no cooking equipment. I had no money whatsoever."

It is common that economic abuse accompanies domestic violence and coercive control - even if victims don’t realise it is happening at the time. According to research from the Co-operative bank and Refuge, 86% of women who have experienced economic abuse have done so along with other types of intimate partner abuse. Yet despite its prevalence, it has, until very recently, been misunderstood and unrecognised. Dr Nicola Sharp Jeffs, the founder of Surviving Economic Abuse, a UK charity dedicated to the issue said, "It’s a little bit like how physical abuse was responded to 40 years ago where victims were not getting a response and feeling really helpless."

Making a difference

The pandemic and the current cost of living crisis have prompted lawmakers to recognise economic abuse and make change. The government has now included economic abuse as part of the statutory definition of domestic abuse in the Domestic Abuse Bill. Also, UK Finance, an industry trade body has now published a voluntary Code of Conduct which most banks and building societies have signed up to. Stories of how perpetrators were using financial products to control their partners have also started to be reported in newspapers and on TV and radio.

 And in light of this, a few things have become startlingly clear: economic abuse is a form of coercive control that forces women into poverty. Perpetrators control spending, force loans to be taken out, rack up debt in their partner's names, spend their partner’s savings and destroy their credit history.

The current cost of living crisis is feared to have a catastrophic impact on victims of domestic abuse.

"The cost of living crisis is not going to make people more abusive," explained Ellie Butt, head of policy and public affairs at Refuge. "Financial stress does not cause domestic abuse. It’s about giving perpetrators the opportunity to exert control.

"Scarcity and price rises will give perpetrators the excuse for abuse and will reduce survivors’ options and perceptions of their options if they were to leave."

If abuse is about control, then economic abuse is a particularly effective strain because we exist in a society that functions entirely around money. The abuse, therefore, not only controls the victim, but in every way possible, the victim’s interaction with the rest of the world, and how the rest of the world interacts with them. In particular, financial institutions.

With an awareness of economic abuse has come an understanding of how financial institutions, such as banks and building societies, have unwittingly been aiding perpetrators through their procedures and protocols. For instance, letters have been sent to perpetrators with their victims’ new address on; women have had to pay off loans that they were coerced to take out; women have had their homes threatened with repossession by mortgage lenders when partners have stolen money from joint mortgage accounts or refused to pay their share of the mortgage. Additionally, many victims speak of the agony of having to repeatedly tell their predicament to several different members of staff, many of whom shrugged and pointed at the small print.

 Yet banks are beginning to listen. Take NatWest, that now has a Customer Protection Manager, a dedicated role supporting victims of economic abuse in its existing customer protection unit. "It goes without saying that this is something that has needed to be done for a long time," explained Customer Protection Manager, Kim Chambers, a NatWest employee who says tackling the issue was long overdue. "We've always had channels of support but maybe not with that true understanding of what support is needed. There is more that needs to be done and it's going to be a constant learning."

In a partnership with SafeLives, a charity dedicated to ending domestic abuse, Chambers and her team underwent months of training in how to respond to customers who are victims of economic abuse. Staff are taught how to respond sensitively and appropriately to customers who are explaining situations of abuse or to recognize the signs vulnerable customers might display. All customers are then referred to Chambers. Chambers speaks to these customers on the phone weekly, or monthly - sometimes even daily - and over the course of many months, acknowledging how potentially dangerous each situation can be and that every case is different and needs tailored support.

"Your bank account is the footprint of your life, it tells everybody what you do every single day," says Chambers. "If I make a change [to a victim’s account], for instance, if there's funds that need safeguarding, and I make that decision to do that, then I'm prompting the abuser to know that there's something going on and that can make the situation worse. The training has helped me understand the consequences of making these decisions."

Raising awareness

In other words, banks are beginning to understand how high the stakes are for women who are trying to ask for help. With the introduction of video banking Chambers is hoping to increase the trust between her and the survivors. Chambers also works with relatives or refuges to help women who have to flee without being able to access bank account details or have had all their belongings including bank statements and passports, taken from them and destroyed. "The person going through this knows what they want and what they need to do. It’s my job to make sure I do that as safely as possible for them."

For Rosie, it’s not just banks and building societies that can enable the abuser. "He's still financially abusing me through the child maintenance service," she says. Rosie claims he pays her the absolute minimum he can get away with before being dragged back to court. As he gets close, he ups the payment and avoids the fine but leaves her in financial precarity. "It’s the last invisible chain pulling me in," she says.

But despite this Rosie is moving forward. Paying back the debt "is a bitter pill to swallow. You are a victim. You're dealing with so many different things. But I have to say to myself, this debt isn't going to go away." She has now set up her own business and is trying to raise awareness to help other survivors. "When you suffer abuse, any kind of abuse, it doesn't always go away, it gets easier to deal with. You find positive ways of managing it, and moving on from it in your own way, but it doesn't ever go away."

* Name has been changed

Is someone you know a victim of economic abuse?

SafeLives and NatWest pinpoint five ways to spot if a loved one may be experiencing economic abuse.

1. Restricted spending and access to finances: for example, if a friend unexpectedly and frequently uses money as a reason for cancelling plans. Or a loved one borrows money when it is out of character and they’re being elusive about why.

2. Problems with joint finances: you might become aware of "conflicts" between a friend and their partner concerning money, earnings or savings. Or a partner taking complete charge of their joint finances.

3. Unusual shopping behaviours: this might be a friend obsessively asking for receipts for every purchase and becoming anxious when this isn’t possible. Or someone hiding purchases from their partner or asking permission before buying anything.

4. A change in working habits or attitudes: has a close friend unexpectedly quit a job they love with no real explanation. Or someone is expressing a desire to work but their partner’s not supporting them to do so?

5. Becoming increasingly isolated: unusual and frequent excuses to avoid socialising or a sudden decision to move away from close family can be signs of being controlled by a partner, especially if that person doesn’t have access to their own finances.

If you want to know more about the signs and impact of economic abuse visit Survivingeconomicabuse.org

If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse, contact Women's Aid and connect to a support worker with its new instant messaging service.

Intimate partner violence can happen to anyone. This is one woman's shocking account of what happened to her aged 19...

Domestic violence is a global human rights issue, with abuse rates spiking over the past two years due to Covid-19 and now the cost of living crisis.

1 in 3 women worldwide have now experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner, but despite its prevalence, intimate partner violence often goes unreported, with the abuse predominantly taking place behind closed doors.

"Abuse is Not Love" – a campaign launched by Women’s Aid highlights the warning signs and empowers victims to escape harmful relationships. Marie Claire is working with the partnership to spotlight the red flags of intimate partner abuse.

In a bid to increase awareness of this epidemic, we spoke to Sarah*, who at 19 found herself in an abusive relationship with an older man. As well as sharing her shocking story, she reveals how Women's Aid - a charity that aims to end domestic violence against women and children - supported and helped her to recognise abusive behaviour.

"You’re fat, ugly and no one will ever love you except me"

That’s what my ex-boyfriend told me during our relationship. And I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, saying this made me adore him even more, because I felt grateful for his love.

I met him through mutual friends. We were both at a house party, swapped numbers and weeks later we were dating.

In the beginning he was absolutely lovely. He took me out for meals and treated me to day trips to nearby cities. I felt so lucky. I’d recently come out of a two-year relationship and he came along at the right time.

It didn’t take long to notice he had a jealous streak, but it wasn’t until three months in, once we were official, that he physically hurt me. We’d gone out for a few drinks and then headed back to his flat. He accused me of messaging other boys and asked to see my phone. I gave it to him and he immediately threw it at me, splitting my head open.

As soon as it happened and he saw all the blood, he said he was so sorry and had meant to throw the phone at the wall. He convinced me it was an accident and he would never, ever deliberately hurt me. He also said his ex-girlfriend had cheated on him and he apologised for needing reassurance from me. It was a one-off mistake.

I had to go to A&E that night to get the cut stitched up, and he asked me not to tell the hospital staff what had happened because he didn’t want my friends and family to find out and not like him. He told me to say I’d had a few drinks, tripped over and cut my forehead on the edge of a table. That is the story I went with because I didn’t want him to get in trouble. I didn’t want to lose him.

Next came Pandora jewellery and dinners in fancy restaurants. Being 19 at that time, it really did impress me and made me feel appreciated and valued. He was 26, and I didn’t think I would get this royal treatment if I dated a guy my own age.

But the violence got worse. A few weeks on, we’d been out for drinks again and come back to his flat, where he lived alone. He accused me of cheating, saying I’d never find anyone who would love me like he did, especially when I was so fat and ugly. He snatched my phone off me and threw it in my face, this time cutting open my lip. After a round of apologies we went to sleep, and as I lay in the darkness I thought that it probably wasn’t an accident this time.

The next morning I got the bus home and my mum saw my bruised face. She simply asked, "did he do it?" I broke down crying and admitted everything. That moment was the first time I’d told anyone what he was really like. It wasn’t that I couldn’t trust my mum or my friends, but I didn’t want to admit to myself what was happening.

Of course, they wanted me to end it, but I loved him too much. Even after he pushed, strangled and physically punched me in the face, we stayed together. One time, his neighbours called the police and he was arrested and spent the night in prison. The next morning I got a phone call asking if I wanted to press charges and I said no.

A week before I was due to move to university in Liverpool I ended the year-long relationship. As my September start date got closer, he got more horrible. He didn’t want me to go and I knew this was my one chance to escape his control. He was devastated when I told him it wouldn’t work because of the distance, and was desperate to make it work. But I knew if I came home for a weekend I would probably never leave because I would be sucked back into our world.

At this point, I was also very aware I was in an abusive relationship, and I couldn’t let it put my degree in jeopardy. When I moved he rang me a couple of times and left abusive voice mails, so I blocked him and removed him from all social media. Then, he told my friends who were living at home that he had explicit photos of me, and he was going to post them on social media. I told them to tell him if he did anything I would tell the police. That was the last I heard of him.

For a long time I didn’t process what had happened with my ex. It was only when I moved back home after graduating four years later that it all came back to me.

My mum started sending me links to Women’s Aid forums where women spoke about their partners and abusive experiences. Reading survivor stories has made me realise it’s okay to grieve and still get upset by what happened six years ago.

Thankfully, I have never seen my ex since. I got a part-time communications role at a local domestic violence charity in Preston, so I can help girls who are in a similar situation to what I was.

My current boyfriend has been really understanding about my situation.

If I’d stayed with my ex I fear I would have ended up pregnant and stuck with him, or he would have killed me. I always thought domestic violence happened to women who are middle-aged and married. But it can happen to anyone. I urge any girls or women who are reading this and noticing warning signs to speak to someone about it. The more you do talk about it the more you understand what is happening in your life is wrong, and that there is help.

If you are worried that your partner, or that of a friend or family member, is controlling and abusive, you can contact the Freephone 24-hour National Domestic Violence Helpline on 0808 2000 247 or visit womensaid.org.uk

* Survivor's name has been changed to protect her identity 

Read more about "Abuse is Not Love", and YSL Beauty and Women's Aid's partnership @ MarieClaireUK.

Our "Abuse is Not Love" campaign with Women's Aid highlights the red flags of intimate partner violence. In this exclusive account, model Frankie Herbert breaks her silence on her own experience with domestic abuse.

Words by Frankie Herbert

Home for most of us is a place of sanctuary and safety, but for some, it can be a dangerous, abusive and life-threatening prison. Over the past two years, when we were locked away in isolation, safe spaces like work, school, community centres, friends' homes and even trips to the shops were no longer available. For people in IPV relationships, the abuse was inescapable.

I am a survivor of domestic abuse and what scares me is that had I not been able to leave the house, or had there not been anyone else around, the abuse would have escalated far higher and sadly this was the reality for hundreds of people in abusive relationships or families.

The world has now opened up but in 2022 we are still coming to terms with the spike in intimate partner violence that the pandemic caused. Now, 1 in 3 women have experienced some form of physical violence by an intimate partner.

There are thousands of vulnerable women and children living with domestic abuse across the country right now, and speaking about my experience feels like the only way to break the stigma and encourage more people to do the same. This is my story.

Every domestic abuse story is different, but I do know how it feels to live with intense fear. In November 2019 I was sexually and physically assaulted by my boyfriend. I was 23 and working full time as a model as well as studying to become a counsellor.

I’d met him in Hamburg when I was there for a casting for a couple of hours and we serendipitously began a FaceTime romance. He was tall, handsome and seemingly everything I’d ever wanted. I was nursing a broken heart from an ex and I rushed into it with this gorgeous new German man *Chris because I was desperate to distract my pain with a new man's attention. We dated for two months and spoke all day every day. He came over from Germany for a weekend which was beautiful albeit fleeting, and shortly after I spent a few days with him in Hamburg where I met his parents, grandparents and friends. It was all going wonderfully when he came over for my birthday in mid November. I was over the moon and excited to introduce my new sex bomb German boyfriend to my family and friends.

He woke up on the third day of his visit to London and was a completely different person. Aggressive and rude, he continuously put me down. That day I was accepted onto volunteer training for the charity, Crisis' text line and I was thrilled. Crisis text line provides online support via a volunteer basis for all those facing crises or needing guidance. *Chris immediately snapped back with, “don’t get big headed it’s unattractive on you." I couldn’t understand how getting excited over being accepted onto a volunteer charity scheme was big headed but when someone tells you something like that you instantly question yourself. I thought, "maybe I am being big headed, I’ll be quiet about that now."

The evening of the 2019 assault, Chris and I were out together at a friend's birthday dinner. Chris spent the entire evening muttering under his breath saying how disgusting I was. He’d say things like, “you are making me feel sick, you’re a nasty person, ugly, you’re spoilt and I really don’t like the person I’m seeing in you." I was walking on eggshells and was afraid to speak for fear of saying something that would aggravate him. I just smiled through it, wanting to cry but holding it together and I remained as silent as I could be, something that anyone who knows me knows, is very unlike me.

We went home and I was totally deflated, I’d been trying to smile through my friend's birthday dinner but my confidence had been chipped away, bit by bit. He drank a lot of whiskey and when we got into bed he turned to me and said, “I’m not fucking you tonight, you disgust me.” I got up to turn off the lights and said, “I just want to sleep."

He jumped up and ran to me. He threw me onto the bed and said that I didn’t get to choose. The next thing I knew I was being pinned down by a 6ft 7 man who laughed in my face and tried to kiss me so hard my lip split. He started trying to pull down my underwear and trying to touch me and remove his clothes simultaneously, whilst keeping me pinned to the bed.

“Get off me now, you’re scaring me, I will scream."

“You can’t do anything.”

I screamed and he slapped me. Hard. The side of my head started throbbing and I shouted out for my flatmate.

My flatmate and her boyfriend came running into the room and found me shaking on the bed in shock. Chris was smashing his head on my wall and punched himself in the face, realising perhaps what he had done.

He threw himself down the stairs and told me he was going to find knives in the house to kill himself with. I calmed myself down to try to deal with the situation, petrified he would hurt himself badly in front of me. He cried for his mother, so I called her and told her that he needed to go home.

One of the most heartbreaking conversations I’ve ever had was with that lovely woman, telling her that her son had abused me mentally, hit and had tried to sexually assault me. I did this with the hopes that she, his mother, would be able to help him on his return to Germany. I took him back upstairs to try to get the kind and gentle man I knew to win back control of his psyche. He immediately flipped on me again and threw me onto the bed. I smacked my leg on the base of my bed and it caused an immediate bruise. He pinned me down and spat on me and blew his nose onto my leg whilst I was trapped under his weight and I shouted again for my flatmates. Eventually he calmed down, fell asleep, and I lay in bed thinking about how helpless I was, I didn’t know what to do, but I was able to leave the house, so I left.

I am so grateful that my flatmates were home or it could have been another "story". I am grateful I was able to leave the house, but the mental entrapment of an abusive partner doesn’t leave you.

He flew back to Germany the next day and blocked me on everything. I never got an apology, and I saw that his bio on Instagram was changed to, “looking for a deaf-mute woman that can cook, where are you?” I had been falling in love with a monster. Despite never having an apology I forgave him in my head which freed me, but there’s still mental entrapment involved that many abuse victims experience. It’s safe to say I had a break down. I was miserable and life seemed to be falling apart around me. I practised a lot of mindfulness and with the techniques I had learned from training to become a counsellor as well as using my training skills from when I became an Emotional Freedom Technique practitioner, which uses a form of counselling intervention that draws on ancient alternative medicinal therapies such as acupuncture and energy medicine, I had the tools to make myself feel better. This experience ultimately empowered me, it strengthened me and made me who I am today – a survivor, not a victim.

I still get paranoid he will turn up at my house, I get flashbacks of the wicked smile on his face when he was pinning me down on the bed and I am still in disbelief it all happened. I was lucky in that I had the support of my flatmates and I was able to leave the house to escape him. I still contemplate whether or not to report it but I think there is little that can be done with him living in a different country.

I have been training as a counsellor and I’m now focusing my energy on training to work with women who have been through or are enduring similar experiences.

I am a survivor of domestic abuse and at this time I want to reach out to anyone who may be suffering at the hands of an abuser either physically, sexually or mentally and share my story with you. You are not alone, you can escape this, and if you need help right now there are domestic abuse charities that are there for you.

The National Abuse Helpline, 0808 2000 247, is a free 24 hour confidential service, run by an all-female expert team every hour of the day. Refuge also runs www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk where there is lots of useful information and Women's Aid runs an instant messaging service, where you can connect to a support worker.

You are not alone – please reach out for support.

*certain names have been changed to protect identities.

Read more about "Abuse is Not Love", and YSL Beauty and Women's Aid's partnership @ MarieClaireUK.

Get treated the way you deserve, or get out...

Love Island rightfully comes up against criticism every year. Whether it’s the show’s notable lack of body diversity, or the way the producers appear to manipulate events at the expense of contestants’ happiness (Teddy and Faye, we're looking at you), the popular series is far from perfect.

But if one thing can be said in praise of Love Island, it’s the inadvertent lessons it teaches viewers about relationships and self-worth.

We live in a country where the quality of sex education leaves a lot to be desired, and I’m not just talking about the anatomy stuff. Among the most valuable lessons people can learn at an early age are those around consent and what a healthy relationship looks like, but with Ofsted having previously estimated that up to 40% of schools’ PSHE education is "not yet good enough," it’s debatable how many of these vital teachings are actually filtering down via traditional means.

It’s no surprise, then, that young people tend to gain this kind of education from other sources - like TV programmes, for example. And Love Island is undoubtedly one of them.

My personal career as an avid Love Island viewer has spanned half a decade. In that time, I’ve witnessed countless dynamics unfold, each in turn leading to useful public discussions about the hows, whys and wherefores of a healthy - or an unhealthy - relationship. But perhaps the most important of all these lessons came last night, when contestant Millie Court dealt perfectly with the infidelity of her villa partner, Liam Reardon.

A quick recap for anyone who hasn’t been watching the show religiously for the past four weeks: Essex-born Millie and Welsh bricklayer Liam became coupled up almost immediately after meeting one another in the Majorcan villa, and had shown themselves to be fairly rock steady as a couple.

That was, until Casa Amor happened. The boys moved to a separate villa to enjoy a ‘lads holiday’ with the addition of six new female contestants, while the original girls remained in the main villa and were joined by six fresh men.

While Millie remained respectfully faithful to her other half, the same couldn’t be said for Liam over in Casa Amor. Viewers winced as he acted on an initial attraction to Lillie Haynes, sharing a bed with her for three nights and kissing her willingly outside of a challenge.

When it came to making the decision about whether he wanted to re-couple with Lillie and bring her back with him to the main villa, it was something of a surprise to learn that Liam had opted to stick with Millie. The news came as a great relief to Millie, however, who had been moping in her partner’s absence and was, at that point, none the wiser about his betrayal.

But it wasn’t long before Liam’s antics became public knowledge, when Lillie declared she was 'shocked' not to have been chosen by the 21-year-old.

The heartache was written all over Millie’s face as the details unfolded further during a one-to-one with Lillie; a mix of disappointment, humiliation, and total sadness. When she challenged Liam on his behaviour, she articulated exactly why he had broken her trust. “I wouldn’t do that to someone,” she said. “There were six girls in there and you happen to have found a connection with one of them. That just shows the connection we had wasn’t enough for you."

Later, through tears, Millie said in the Beach Hut: “I don’t deserve this. I wouldn’t let this happen in the outside world, why would I let it happen in here?” And that’s the vital lesson at the heart of it - one that will hopefully ring true for any viewers who might find themselves in a similar situation in future: Millie didn’t deserve to be treated that way by someone who was supposed to care for her, so she wasn’t going to stand for it.

It would probably have been easier for Millie to believe Liam’s played-down version of events; to accept his pleas of apology, and to welcome him back into her arms. Comfort soothes pain, after all. But instead, she took the harder route, choosing to deny the lingering feelings she had for him and put herself first. “I personally don’t think I can go forward with this,” she told Liam firmly, later that night. “You’ve hurt me and I don’t trust you. I think you need to respect that decision.”

It was a move that clearly resonated with so many people. “Can’t get over how strong Millie was in that episode,” wrote one viewer on Twitter. “She stayed true to herself and will inspire women everywhere to not put up with men’s SHIT.”

“Good on Millie for showing respect for herself, even though she does like Liam. I hope other women learn from this, [because] trust is important,” said another.

Author Juno Dawson also posted about Millie’s resolve, sharing her own personal regret that she hadn’t made the same choice in previous relationships. “In the past, I was Millie and I took him back and I wish I hadn’t [looked] at it that way. I wish I’d been Millie in that moment. Respect,” she posted.

“This is monumental strength from Millie. I am praying she can hold this line until they leave this godforsaken villa,” added journalist Sarah Manavis.

Sexual health and wellbeing charity Brook also sees a real power in Millie's display of self-preservation, with spokesperson Eliza Bell telling Marie Claire: "Love Island is a really popular show amongst young people so it's fantastic to see an example of Millie highlighting qualities that are important to her in a relationship and sticking to her personal boundaries.

Shows like this can provide a great opportunity to begin conversations with young people and encourage them to place what they have learned in relationships and sex education into the context of real life," Bell adds. "It's really important that young people receive education around relationships and how to recognise healthy and unhealthy behaviours. The media is a prominent source of examples of the types of relationships that young people are exposed to, and unfortunately not all of them are positive."

If last night’s scenes mean that even one young woman re-evaluates her mistreatment in a relationship and decides to empower herself to leave it behind, then that’s a win. Because learning to prioritise your own health and happiness over short-term gain is a lesson nobody will ever regret.

Sorry about this but we officially can't stop apologising. Robyn D’Arcy analyses why this has far-reaching consequences in all spheres of our lives. Sorry not sorry...

Over the years, male singers have released songs where they apologise almost twice as much as women singers. This is one area, however, where life doesn’t imitate art; sorry really does seem to be ‘the hardest word’ for men in comparison to women. Because it’s widely accepted that women say sorry far more than men. There’s certainly been a lot of talk over the past few years about how women should stop saying sorry so much whether IRL, online, or in the workplace, to take their power back.

Stop saying sorry 

I’m certainly guilty of it. I probably use ‘sorry’ more than any other word on email. Since the start of 2021, I have sent 43 emails to my boss apologising for being too busy to reply instantaneously. But is it really such a problem? At my work, Wunderman Thompson, we’ve been doing deep-dive research across social media, the press and TV in the UK to see if women still say sorry more than men, why this is and what should be done about it.

We’ve been looking at hundreds of thousands of conversations and comments across Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, forums and blogs from January 2019 to February 2021, as well as newspapers and popular 2020 TV shows - and found that yes, people who identify as women still say sorry more than men. It seems a lot of the pressure women feel to say sorry comes from the media.

Media shaming

The analysis found 69% of all social posts containing the words ‘I’m sorry’ were from women. When we looked at characters apologising on TV, we found similar - and worse - percentages weighted towards women - 61% in The Queen’s Gambit, 73% in the latest season of The Crown, and 85% in I Hate Suzie. On social media, we found posts calling on women to apologise were filled with three times more disgust and anger than posts demanding the same from men - and six times more hatred.

‘Disgraceful,’ ‘disgusting,’ ‘ashamed,’ ‘unacceptable’ and ‘stupid woman’ were amongst the top phrases used.

In the press, there’s been almost double the volume of content criticising women than criticising men since 2013. Men, particularly footballers and politicians, are criticised most frequently for career moves, tactics and their impact on business and the wider world. But female celebrities face the highest volume of criticism - Meghan Markle, Katie Price, Stacey Solomon and the Kardashians are ‘slammed,’ 'shamed’ and called on to apologise the most, mostly for choices in parenthood or appearance.

Saying sorry and imposter syndrome 

Yet the natural tendency for women to say ‘sorry’ - and the expectation for them to do so – goes beyond just wanting to apologise. Research has revealed how ‘sorry’ eases awkwardness, fills silences and can be a way to start a conversation, particularly for women at work.

There’s also a clear association between over-apologising and imposter syndrome. Our analysis found that 67% of those describing imposter syndrome symptoms were women - and 74% of those posting about feeling as if they are an ‘inconvenience’ or a ‘burden’ were women too.

‘Sorry’ can help women enter discussions and establish their presence and right to speak - and it helps words spoken afterwards from appearing too assertive. And in this context, ‘sorry’ is not for an act; rather for who women are, or how we could be perceived. Similarly, as with a lot of women, I think my overuse of ‘sorry’ in work emails derives from an innate sense of guilt and constant need to be seen as polite.

Calling women out to stop saying sorry can be problematic

But telling women to stop saying sorry has consequences. ‘Sorry’ is a form of social currency and there’s a potential cost for its underuse, as well as its overuse. Ditching the word and acting ‘more assertively’, can lead women to be perceived as less ‘warm’, feel more awkward, less empowered - and less themselves. Women apologising isn’t what’s keeping sexism alive; it’s the age-old sexist belief that women are less capable, and therefore that the male standard should be the goal.

The more we associate the word ‘sorry’ with women’s speech, the more use of the word is considered ‘wrong,’ and the more women who say it are disadvantaged. Telling women to stop saying sorry and adapt is basically expecting them to offset a sexist imbalance. It puts the onus on them.

#sorrynotsorry

However, women, particularly Black women and queer women, continue to lead a movement around agency, autonomy and living on one’s own terms – both on and offline. TikTok videos tagged #sorrynotsorry have attracted 3.4b views. Songs where women refuse to apologise for who they are or what they do have risen by 25% since the noughties. Online content about being unapologetic and authentic has increased by 5,000%.

But if ‘sorry’ fits naturally into some women’s speech patterns, calling them out for it is not the answer. Recognising how and why ‘sorry’ is used and actually listening to women is more likely to lessen the word’s use. Basically, us women shouldn’t feel bad about using the word ‘sorry’ and just do what works best for us. Thankfully in the 2020s, we’re becoming more unapologetically ourselves - and it’s time for wider culture to encourage that. Should we stop saying sorry? I think women shouldn’t feel sorry for saying sorry anymore.

* Robyn D'Arcy is a Senior Analyst at Wunderman Thompson specialising in data analytics and storytelling

Being single during coronavirus gives lovesick new meaning, says Features Writer Olivia Adams

The country is in a state of emergency, and so is my love life.

Two weeks ago I flew to Sri Lanka for my friend's wedding and enjoyed an epic holiday romance with an Aussie from Melbourne. Returning to reality in moody London was a serious struggle, and so I decided to get swiping on the one app I have – Hinge (more than one seems an overwhelming prospect) - and set up a date in the city.

At this time, coronavirus was spreading across the UK, but as the government hadn’t advised against socialising we kept to the date and time. On the tube to north London I felt judged: it was Friday night and I felt like the only female wearing make-up and heading back into central.

Instead of people spilling out onto the streets from various pubs and bars, there were a few somber looking men having pints and looking deep in thought. There was genuinely no laughter, drunk silliness or affection between people. London was subdued, and it was sad to see.

The date was average (lack of atmosphere definitely didn’t help), and we parted ways. But not to be disheartened, I decided to proactively set up another one. By this time, the online dating world was taking the pandemic slightly more seriously. By this I mean they’d updated their profiles.

A selection read:

‘Together we could: ‘self-isolate at mine’'

‘Will you be my quarantine?’

‘Will swap nudes for toilet roll’

‘I’m looking for: pasta, rice and soap’

I was surprised to see coronavirus being used as a conversation starter, but according to the website OKCupid, between January and March, COVID-19 has seen a boost in mentions on dating profiles by 262 per cent. Seriously.

What could I change mine to, I mused. Perhaps, I’m looking for: a coronavirus-free partner? Don’t @ me, I’m only joking.

The profile update would have been pointless anyway, as the date never happened. Instead, I spent the night disinfecting myself and settling into social isolation in my house in south London*.

If the situation weren’t so serious, I might be able to laugh this off as a universal plot to keep me single forever.

This meme puts it perfectly:

To be honest, I’m just grateful UK apps haven’t gone to the extreme of creating a COVID-19 update, like The One in Iceland. Users will now be asked to specify their coronavirus status, choosing from the options: I have it, I have had it, I’m in quarantine and I haven’t had it. The app will then match users based on this information, and while I understand the creators’ aim of reducing the risk of dating amid the pandemic, it does feel like the world has gone slightly mad.

With new men off-limits for the foreseeable, the temptation to reach out to an ex is particularly strong before lockdown well and truly begins. Let’s just say I won’t judge you if you do, because quite frankly, being single in a time of self-isolation can be lonely. Watching your favourite socialising spots close up and couple friends get cosy together is testing even to the most positive of mindsets. I strongly recommend downloading Houseparty, the best app for video chat with your friends.

Another distraction is self-pleasure. Sales of sex toys have rocketed as people self-isolate from coronavirus. Bosses at Womanizer have revealed demand in the UK was up 13 per cent in the last fortnight, although Italy was 60 per cent and France 40 per cent. Has hand san replaced lube, I wonder?

Maybe I’m destined to be with the Aussie after all. It’s not like I can kiss or spend quality time with anyone in London right now. We could write love letters. Or send care packages featuring hand sanitisier. Just an idea.

* It’s a house share of five.

Natalie Lee, founder of the Warrior Women project and co-host of The Everything Project podcast, was crippled with feelings of shame surrounding sex up until her thirties. Now she's advocating why we all need to take control of our clitoris

From a very young age I had associated sex with trauma after a particularly unpleasant event. Anyone who has experienced trauma will understand how it’s possible to become disassociated from your feelings generally, as you learn to shut them down as a way of coping.

Growing up in my household there was this veil of silence surrounding sex, it was hidden, it was painful and the unspoken nature of it only served to help develop it into something I took to be shameful. There are lots of other factors why I and many others associate sex with shame, especially as a female. Women who practise it freely and unapologetically are labelled dirty and used. I also think historically the role of religion and control has been a huge factor.

My early sexual encounters were about playing a role, a role that made me desirable to men, sex was a performance. Mostly re-enacted from the few bits of porn I’d seen. I screamed, I scratched, and I faked many orgasms. I had no idea that sex could or should be about my own gratification as well. I had no idea what a clitoris was.

So for most of life I’ve had mediocre sex. Sex wasn’t terrible, I enjoyed it, especially once I’d found my clitoris but it was very unexploratory. I was too self-conscious to do much other than missionary position.

Masturbation was definitely something shameful, too. I’d humped teddies as a kid, sometimes with my little friends, always, always in secret, away from adults and never, ever talked about. All I knew was it was something I shouldn’t be doing. Even as an adult I continued to think masturbation was disgusting, that if anyone knew what I was doing they’d have a negative opinion of me. It wasn’t until I reached my thirties that I began to understand masturbation was something fun, safe and normal. It allowed me to rediscover my body and increased my confidence in all areas of my life, including sexually.

Female pleasure is taking centre stage right now, and it’s about time. Women are demanding to be seen and heard and our sexual desires deserve to be taken seriously. There are porn sites made by and, overwhelming viewed by women, such as feminist erotic filmmaker Erika Lust. Even big brands are getting involved - Boots and Cult Beauty have a whole section devoted to sexual pleasure and wellbeing.

I want to talk to my daughters about sex as easy as it is to butter a slice of bread. I hope to make it an everyday topic of conversation and impress on them that sex is to be enjoyed by two mutually-consenting adults, it’s not dirty or shameful. That masturbation is extremely pleasurable, it’s completely natural. And I would wholeheartedly encourage them to explore their own bodies before anyone else gets the right to.

Masturbation has multiple proven benefits - increasing our confidence, self-esteem, helping us to sleep, reducing our stress levels and can be highly beneficial in relationships. Self pleasure has certainly increased my confidence with every soaring orgasm I've given myself and I will be forever grateful for finding out about the glorious delights of my clitoris.

* Follow Natalie on Instagram @stylemesunday

Contemplating what post-lockdown life will bring is draining, but what about the women facing it without emotional support from a partner? Writer Olivia Foster is living it and, quite frankly, she's exhausted...

Twelve hours into the worst sick bug I've ever encountered and I'm lying on my bathroom floor, totally naked, surrounded by discarded Dettol wipes and the last of my dignity when suddenly a wave of panic mixed with acute loneliness sweeps over me. I have absolutely nothing in the house and, being a single woman and living alone, I have no one to help me. My mum is away, my siblings and friends are at work, so I know I must look after myself, alone, which is no mean feat when you can't go more than ten minutes without being sick.

‘Emotional labour,’ is a term that gets bandied about a lot, especially when it comes to people in partnerships. We hear how women, so much more often than men, have juggled both their own jobs and the responsibility of keeping their houses and families in shape over lockdown.

In fact, a report from the Boston Consulting Group in May 2020 found that women are currently doing an average of 12 hours more household chores than men do. This could be anything from cooking, to cleaning, managing household expenses and bills to - if you have them - caring for children. It's a stat that becomes particularly ridiculous when you consider that a reported 71.6% of women are in the UK workforce, meaning they're effectively working twice.

Similarly we often hear about the issues for older people, whose partners or friends might have passed on, who struggle with being alone, not only when it comes to chores or tasks but with feeling isolated and unable to ask for help; be that someone to help with the shopping, or someone to have a conversation with. But we don't often talk about the reality of what it's like to look after yourself, by yourself, all the time as a younger person. It seems silly in some ways to point it out but it is just another way in which the real life experiences of single women outside of the usual stereotypes are silenced. Our emotional labour ignored.

I know there are other women who feel the same as me – who recognise the very real exhaustion that can come from always having to look out for themselves with no help and not wanting to put the burden on other people. Rose is 38 and lives by herself in a flat in North London, she tells me that it’s when work gets tough that she feels it the most, ‘I’ve been on my own a while,’ she says, ‘And in many ways I love it, but there are some days when not having anyone can help becomes really tough. If I’ve had a stressful week at work then finding the energy to cook or clean my flat can feel impossible and it’s hard to talk about it without feeling like I’m moaning so I just say nothing.’

No wonder really, that a report on millennial women found a third have felt lonely over the last few months. It’s an interesting stat when you consider the definition of emotional labour is the feeling that you need to suppress your feelings in order to make sure everyone around you feels comfortable. Indeed, it was originally described by American sociologist Arlie Hochschild in The Managed Heart as the need to, ‘induce or suppress feeling in order to sustain the outward countenance that produces the proper state of mind in others.’ She has since said that she feels people shouldn’t always relate this to housework for example, but that it is something that can affect both women and men, not only at home but at work and in our general personal lives.

For me limiting my personal emotional labour has been about being totally honest with people when I can’t take on additional tasks for them that might lead me to feeling frustrated and repressed. This could be not going to a birthday party when I’m already exhausted, or not offering to help someone if I know I’m already at capacity and won’t be able to give them the attention they need. But going forward from sick-gate I’ve also vowed to be more open when I’m not coping - and always keep a stash of restorative full-fat cokes in the fridge.

Brace yourself, says Olivia Foster, because not even a pandemic can stop the clichés coming your way

Valentine’s Day; a day of romance, flowers, M&S two-for-one meal deals and declarations of undying love. If you’re single, please tick box for a) texts from men you don’t fancy, b) mis-matched underwear and c) Netflix binge night.

Whether you’re a Valentine’s lover, hater or you’re totally indifferent to the Hallmark holiday, one thing’s for sure, at least one of the below will happen before the day is out. Sorry, we don’t make the rules.

You’ll Get A Mysterious Card From Your Mum

What’s that in your letterbox? A card in a red envelope? Signed from a mysterious admirer? Did it arrive just days after your mum's text asking for a reminder of your address? Seems legit.

Plus Four Texts From Guys You Went On A Single Date With

These will range from a three-scroll epilogue about how, despite only meeting once, John, 35, from Essex, has actually realised you were perfect for one another, to a cursory, ‘U up?,’ from a guy you snogged outside a Be At One. And who cna blame him for trying.

And One Text From Your Ex-Boyfriend

There’s nothing great about this. If you ended on good terms it will only set you back a few weeks of pretending you can be friends. If you ended on bad terms, you’ll have to spend the day resisting the temptation to tell him to…

You Might Even Send Some Yourself…

Look, this is a no-judgement zone, you can’t help it if you have four glasses of Pinot Grigio and decide that you don’t want to spend the evening alone. Just make sure you’re not texting someone you’re going to regret. Yes, you know who. And no, they are NOT in your support bubble.

You’ll Be Served Sponsored Ads To Singles Nights

If you’ve ever wondered if your phone is listening to you, it will 100% be confirmed as you’re served ad after ad for special discouts on Deliveroo and yoga mats.

But At Least They’ll Break Up Your Instagram Feed

You’re not saying you’re not happy for Sarah and her engagement, but was it really necessary for her to post a 25-slide long Instagram announcement?

We often talk about the positive effects friends can have on our mental health – but what about the friendships that negatively impact our emotional wellbeing? Bernice Jones, 28, from London, was mentally abused by her best friend - triggering severe depression and anxiety

There is so much literature surrounding breaking up with your romantic partner, but very little on abusive friendships. Bernice Jones shares her story of emotional abuse in a bid to redefine vulnerability, and prove that talking about mental health can save lives. ‘I want to use my experience of mental health issues and toxic relationships with friends to help others recognise the warning signs and escape sooner than I was able to,' she tells us. 'It’s important to know how to get a divorce from a friend if you need one.’

On Time To Talk Day we’re encouraged to have conversations about mental health, but new figures from Time to Change, the mental health anti-stigma campaign created by the charity Mind, reveal the impact of the nation’s aversion to talking about our mental wellbeing. In a survey of 4,000 UK adults, over half involved (51%) admitted they would prefer not to tell anyone if they were struggling with their mental health – even if it would help them to talk.

In 2015, British law changed to recognise to psychological abuse as domestic violence, but only between intimate partners. As Bernice’s story shows, the need for the government to acknowledge abusive friendships is critical, as her ‘friend’ changed her life and mental health – and not for the better.

‘The first time I realised I didn’t feel like ‘me’ was in sixth form at school. I was demotivated, lethargic and felt nervous - but I put it down to needing a change a scene. I definitely didn’t link the feelings to the people around me.

I started reading Web Technology at the University of Lincoln in 2010, and almost immediately experienced severe insomnia and started to feel isolated. The idea of going out on a Friday night was so frightening, I stayed in. Soon, I found it nearly impossible to leave my accommodation to attend lectures. Every day filled me with dread, and I had no idea why.

I now realise I was experiencing anxiety. This developed into panic attacks and I started noticing physical problems, like hair loss and weight gain.

I was hundreds of miles away from my home in London, but my ‘best friend’ from school was still very much in contact with me. I’d known Amy* since I was a child. 90 per cent of the time she was pleasant to be around, but 10 per cent of the time she put me down – telling me I was awkward and socially inept – and mocked me in-front of the other girls in our friendship group. It felt like she loved and hated me at exactly the same time.

Amy stayed in London, but repeatedly told me over the phone that my degree was worthless, my university was terrible and I that I was unemployable. She left me questioning my relevance to the world and I started believing all the negative things she said about me.

After I graduated university in 2013, I moved back in to my family home in London. For nearly seven months, I woke up every day thinking, ‘this life thing is unbearable.’ I genuinely didn’t mind if a panic attack had finished me off, because I didn’t want to do the 24 hours all over again.

A friend I made during university, Olivia, kept in touch, and said she believed I was suffering from severe depression. She admitted she suffered from anxiety, and as mental health just wasn’t talked about at this time, we both started penning our thoughts and feelings on Tumblr. She also advised me to buy a notebook and write in red the things I found draining, and in green what made life good. I call them ‘ramblings’ and I’ve been writing them for years now. The green list is always longer, which reminds me that life is worth living.

At the beginning of 2014, Olivia suggested I take my ‘ramblings’ to my GP, and it was the best decision. Instead of just being prescribed anti-depressants, I completed seven sessions of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) over 15 weeks, and saw a therapist for social anxiety.

I’d been volunteering at Oxfam but by April I felt ready to work. I got a job in admin. In August 2015, just over a year later, my relationship with Amy broke down. She insulted me, and instead of saying nothing, I told her she was out of order for putting me down. Yes, we talked all the time and hung out, but I knew deep down that real friends wouldn’t communicate like this, and I couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t speak to me for six months – including over my birthday – and I think she expected me to reach out to her, but I didn’t let myself.

Eventually a girl from our school friendship group messaged me, asking if I wanted to see her. I replied, ‘no,’ and it didn’t take long for Amy to message me abuse. I responded by telling her I wanted nothing to do with her, and that was the last time we spoke. She blocked me on all social media, and it was a relief.

I’m the youngest of four children (one brother and two sisters) and I didn’t want to be seen as a burden to my busy parents. It was the summer of 2018 when I actually sat them down and told them. By then I was working in market research and had been signed off by my manager, who recognised I was not mentally well. They were shocked (having had no history of mental illness in the family before) but understanding and supportive. I wish I’d told them sooner instead of trying to cope on my own.

I didn’t return to the job, and decided instead to become a freelance writer and live for myself, while having a further six sessions of CBT for low mood and depression . Today, I check in with my GP every two months and I’ve been seeing a psychotherapist once a week, who looks beneath the surface issues of anxiety to try and fix them.

I'm planning to do a masters in psychology this summer, with an aim to becoming a therapist and part of the BAME community of UK practitioners on mental health issues. I still feel averse to approaching a romantic relationship, because my vulnerability resulted in me being degraded, and I don’t feel ready to be vulnerable again.

It took me years to be able to say Amy’s name out loud. The relationship was incredibly toxic and at the time I couldn’t see it. She made me feel significant and also insignificant, and that’s so dangerous. Abuse is such a strong word, and yes I was never physically slapped, but the emotional beating affected me just as much. I urge anyone who relates to this to speak to a friend, family member or doctor – please don’t delay; the conversations surrounding mental health need to continue.

*Name has been changed 

If you have been affected by this story or would like more information on support for mental health, call Mind on 0300 123 3393 from 9am to 6pm, Monday to Friday. Or visit mind.org.uk

When people ask me about my Christmas plans, it usually goes something like this.

Them: 'So are you both travelling back to France, or are you staying here in the UK?'

Me: 'Oh yes I am, but Will is staying here, we just do it separately every year, it's easier'

Them: 'Oh, so you spend Christmas apart?' or 'But you'll travel back for boxing day right?' or 'Now that you're married, you'll take it in turns, no?'. You get the idea.

The fact it, I am selfish. I like the way my family does Christmas, and I'm not willing to compromise. We all dress up on Christmas Eve to eat seafood and drink champagne (and open presents, controversial I know, but if even the royals do it...). On Christmas Day, we also dress up, and eat far too much foie gras and cheese, before falling out over a game of Trivial Pursuit, and that's just the way I like it.

Don't get me wrong, my husband feels the same way. His family have their own traditions, involving homemade sausage rolls, building lego and Christmas jumpers, which he doesn't want to miss, and that's fine by me too.

Then there is the fact that his parents are separated, and his sister has a family of her own, so I don't really fancy adding on France as an extra stop after Essex and Suffolk.

We vaguely discussed alternating when we got engaged, and then we got married and well, things didn't really change, because truth be told we are happy with the arrangement, we simply always make sure we do our own faux-mas before we part ways.

Many of my friends do that whole 'compromise' thing, and from what I can tell, it's a bit of a headache and logistical nightmare, and more often than not ends in an argument - so much so that one couple I know (who shall not be named) decided to ditch both families altogether and spend Christmas as a couple on the slopes.

It's not like I don't see my husband's family (who I love, promise) for every other occasion, from birthdays to weddings, throughout the year, so I don't feel guilty about it either.

As for my husband, of course I'd love to be with him on THE day, but for now I'm happy seeing him every other day of the year, and you know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder.

We'll reassess if and when we have children. Definitely. Maybe.

It’s time to try out the sex tips you didn’t even know you needed. From role play to technique perfectors, we asked the best experts for some inspiring advice on a between-the-sheets reboot

Words by Rebecca Newman

1. Get on edge

One discovery from award-winning sexual education website OMGYes is the power of edging – or repeatedly nearing orgasm then pulling back just before it happens. For two thirds of women, edging builds longer, more intense orgasms. Explore it during solo or mutual masturbation, during love-making, whenever you like.

‘There are three variations of edging,’ says Emily Lindin of OMGYes. The first is ‘pausing’, in which you stop what you’re doing during sex, cool down and start again. The second is ‘distraction’, for instance you take time out to kiss, or to take up a different position before resuming. The third is ‘continuous’ edging, in which you shift your touch slightly as you approach climax until the feeling quietens a bit, then bring yourself closer, then back. Do this several times before finally letting go.’

2. Respin a favourite

While there are endless terms for sexual positions, many of them are just variations on the basic missionary, cowgirl, rear entry. So why not just explore the myriad twists you can add to your old favourites? ‘Notice when you get into patterns, and explore the opposite,’ says sexual therapist Mike Lousada. ‘If you like slow sex, then speed it up.’ So, whisper in your lover’s ear, or text them that tonight you want to try things super slow. Or that you’ve brought a toy to play with. ‘Try using lubrication – it changes the quality of touch,’ adds sex coach Sarah Rose Bright of Sensualhealingharmony.com. ‘Massage his testicles and perineum (the area between the anus and the penis), pulling and squeezing,’ even tickling his skin while you are in your favourite position. You might try a vibrator you can wear during love-making, such as the We-Vibe 4 (£106 at lovehoney.co.uk). Or use a butt plug while in doggy (check out the ceramic anal toy Livia, which should be nuzzled into place with a water-based lube such as Anal H20 – £140 and £12 at pureeros.com).

3. Go solo, then share

‘We all have go-to masturbation techniques,’ says Lindin. After interviewing more than 2,000 women, OMGYes discovered that ‘breaking away from the routine to explore other styles of touch can improve pleasure for the rest of your life.’ If, say, you like to work directly on your clitoris, try stimulating it indirectly by moving your fingers on your labia. Explore coming on your own in a way you haven’t before, then share this new technique with your partner. While it may feel weird at first, realise it’s not all about you – think of how happy your partner will be to find a new way to bring you to climax.

4. Talk out of bed

This can be daunting, but it can also be most rewarding: put a date in your diary just to talk. Pour a glass of wine, sit down and set aside an hour to discuss what you need more or less of; what things you love and what things he might be doing that don’t do it for you. Then, let him have his say. Be brave. Perhaps clarify the words you speak during love-making (‘When I say, “Stay there!” I mean, “Stay there!”’). It may be worth making an honest appraisal of your sex drive, and what affects it – from the time of day, work stress and tiredness to your time of the month. This might even stretch to how his failing to put his plates in the dishwasher kills your mood stone dead, but his fixing the brake on your bike is weirdly hot.

You may also consider talking about how the kind of stimulation you want changes. Lindin says, ‘A specific type of touch might feel awesome for you one day, and a different variation is better the next day.’ Discuss how best to communicate this next time you are in the heat of the moment.

5. Go multiple

Instead of finishing at your first (hard-won) orgasm, why not try working towards having more? ‘Many women think they have to stop after their first orgasm, because the kind of touch that led to it is uncomfortable after climax,’ says Lindin. ‘We found in our OMGYes research that many women realise, usually in later life, they should treat their body after the first orgasm like it’s new, with different likes and dislikes. And there are specific ways they like to touch after the first orgasm to rebuild to multiples, often going back to the stimulation they used in the initial warm-up.’

You might continue with a ‘palm hug’, cupping your genital area with a warm hand to exert gentle pressure. Other approaches include stroking in large circles over the labia, downward swipes from the top of your hood to the bottom or slow, clockwise ovals that glide over your hood skin.

6. Recreate the first time

It may sound obvious but try replaying a sex scenario from your first weeks of dating. Or re-enact one of your first sexual experiences from before you met. Was it with that hot guy from the year above, him kissing you up against a wall; a moment of passion in a bathroom while there were people waiting outside? Recreate the scene: tell your partner you have a fantasy about them being your first kiss, and plan it. (You might meet in a bar and dance together a while, then he pushes you to the edge of the room, raises your hands over your head, runs his fingertips down your body to pinch your nipples hard etc.)

Or play with the scenario in your head and immerse yourself in that heightened first-time excitement. Lousada adds, ‘If you act like you are experiencing the electric feelings you remember from the early days, you will feel them all over again.’

7. The adoration ritual

The essence of this ritual is that you take complete control of a love-making session, guiding your partner every step of the way. ‘Design an experience that will make you feel divine,’ says tantric coach Elena Angel. ‘Is there a sensation you’d like to explore? A setting you’d love to find yourself in?’ It may be that you want your partner to kiss every inch of your body before sex. Or you might ask them to dress up as a soldier and give you cunnilingus all afternoon. Whatever it may be, this is your time. Discuss your fantasies with your partner beforehand. It’s a good idea to plan a whole afternoon or evening, so there’s no time pressure. And of course choose a day when they are worshipped in return.

8. Climax creatively

This one is about rekindling the experimentation of the early days by bringing each other to orgasm in creative ways that don’t involve penetrative sex. ‘Make a list by yourself of everything you think might turn you on. Be specific, using words like licking or sucking a specific body part in a certain way,’ say MJ Barker and Justin Hancock, authors of Enjoy Sex (How, When And If You Want To) (£7.99, Icon Books). ‘Take the pressure off if you don’t fancy writing it out by instead sharing fiction excerpts, images or video clips that involve a technique you would like to try.’

During your session, take the focus away from penetration by using one or two of these techniques on each other. It will bring you both back to that inventive state you enjoy when you first take one another’s clothes off. It’s about trying to climax in a different way instead of falling back on what you know.

Like a lot of millennials, I was saddened to hear about Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth's shock split earlier this year. From their meeting on The Last Song to their break up then make up then secret wedding, I thought they were endgame. And judging by the public reaction, I wasn't alone.

Any feelings of sadness that I had however quickly turned into anger when I saw the disparity in support for Liam and Miley post-breakup.

Liam, 29, was painted as a wounded puppy, with fans and followers voicing their concern, commenting in their thousands to tell him he 'could do so much better', with some even apologising that he was having to deal with 'the Miley drama'.

The support for 26-year-old Miley couldn't be any more different, with the words 'crazy', 'slut' and 'disrespectful' appearing to be the most common terms thrown at her.

Let's just remember that we still don't know what happened, so that finger-pointing is based solely on the fact that Liam has kept a low profile post-split while Miley has started publicly dating again, associated with Kaitlynn Carter and now Cody Simpson.

So yes, to reiterate - Liam Hemsworth is being encouraged to move on while Miley Cyrus is getting shamed for moving on.

The gender double standard around rebound relationships has always been eye-watering, but few have called it out until now.

Taking to her Twitter, Miley condensed her thoughts into four succinct points - and they are extremely powerful.

'1. I know the public feels invested in my past relationship because they felt like they saw it thru from the beginning… I think that’s why people have always felt so entitled over my life and how I live it because they’ve watched me grow up… but I am grown now and make choices as an adult knowing the truth/ details/ reality. People only “know” what they see on the internet.

'2. Men (especially the successful ones) are RARELY slut shamed. They move on from one beautiful woman to the next MOST times without consequence. They are usually referred to as “legends”, “heart throbs”, “G”, “Ladies Man” etc… where women are called sluts/ whores! I am trying to just THRIVE/ survive in a “mans” world… if we can’t beat em, join em! If our president can “grab em by the pussy…” can’t I just have a kiss and acai bowl?!?!

'3. I refuse to recluse and “date” from home cause A. That’s not fun B. Extremely uncomfortable/ puts me in a vulnerable position… I would like to share an activity with someone I am dating and not be stuck at home with pretty much nothing to do but “Netflix and chill”

'4. This “dating” thing is new to me too. I’ve never been an “adult” / grown ass woman experiencing this … I was in a committed relationship for almost All my teens and early 20s ; with the exception of a few breaks, which usually in those times I was working my ass off with not much R&R… and “meeting/ trusting” people in my position is really tuff. I have a great life I wouldn’t trade for “privacy” but PLEASE don’t make this awkward for me! I am trying to make light and like always MAKE FUN of myself/ and the public’s perception of me! Get used to me dating - this is where I am at! #HotGirlFall'

Miley's words may be important, but my problem is the fact that they were necessary in the first place.

Would she have been labelled as 'crazy' if she were a man, moving on and having fun after a stressful break up? Would Liam have received the blame had he been a woman? And why does there need to be blame in the first place?

It's 2019 people and there is simply no excuse for gender double standards.

For many young charity workers and journalists posted to cover the war in Mosul there’s only one way to switch off from the horrors of their day jobs. Corinne Redfern spends a night on the town in Iraq

It’s a Thursday night in Erbil, and I’m being taken on a bar crawl. Or at least, I was supposed to be, but there’s a Kurdish soldier in the way. ‘Your name’s not on the list,’ he says, frowning at my provisional driving licence. I open my mouth to protest – talking my way into things is a CV-listed strength. I once made it into an NME Awards after-party by pretending to be Pixie Lott’s mum. Then I spot the guy’s gun. The bouncers at the after-party didn’t have guns.

A friend takes over. He’d put my name down three days ago, he says – well ahead of the 48-hour guest list cut-off. As they switch between languages; English, Arabic and Kurdish merging to form one convincing argument for why I don’t pose a danger, I spot the photographer I’m working with being frisked, intimately. ‘Any bombs on you?’ we’re asked, without irony. Twenty minutes of animated phone calls later, and we’re through to the next round of a rigorous four-step security check that will eventually see us arrive, retying our shoelaces and slightly dishevelled, at Erbil’s United Nations bar. The first thing I see walking through the door is someone passed out, head down on the pool table. It’s only 8pm.

Located in the north-west quadrant of Iraqi-Kurdistan, Erbil is three and a half hours’ drive from the Syrian border town of Faysh Khabur, and 50 miles from Mosul – at the time of writing, one of the last remaining ISIS strongholds in Iraq. But while the conflict has forced over 3 million Iraqi residents from their homes since 2014, and the Islamic caliphate continues to impose its regime of terror across the region, Erbil (or Irbil) has remained largely unscathed. Here, sustaining peace is the order of the day – and alcohol-fuelled escapism provides the scene of the night. Aid workers import suitcases full of Mexican tequila, ‘lagoon bars’ are positioned on top of swimming pools and guns can make it past security – albeit luminescent yellow plastic ones filled with vodka and fired into the mouths of thirsty expats. With a constant torrent of humanitarian aid workers, journalists, oil moguls and security services pouring in from all over the world, the city resembles a slightly dustier Dubai, filled with stressed-out adults determined to drink each other under the table to forget the day's traumatic events.

Dr Jacqui Wilmshurst, a psychologist who has worked extensively with aid workers and journalists who operate in war zones such as Afghanistan and Pakistan, says this behaviour is not unusual. ‘What I’ve seen in my clients is that when people live in a highly stressful or traumatic environment that requires them to be “on” at all times, then in the long term that adrenaline can become addictive, and lead them to seek it in other ways when they’re not working, too. That’s one reason why a lot of expats in war zones may have more sex – or perhaps cheat on their partners. The thrill sustains them,’ she says. ‘These behaviours can become exaggerated and accepted when you’re with like-minded individuals for sustained periods of time – such as coping with a day on the front line by passing around a bottle of whisky, or having sex as a means of getting some physical contact when, really, all you might need in that situation is a hug.’

It’s something I see on a regular basis in and around Erbil and, speaking to 20- to 30-year-olds I meet here, reflects how many people feel. ‘It sounds really ignorant in retrospect, but when I accepted my first internship out here, I just figured I’d have to stick to a curfew, cover up and be very careful all the time,’ says Sara*, 27, from the US. ‘To be honest, I was terrified.’ The only stories she’d ever seen about the Middle East had been bleak (‘and beige – just dust and khaki everywhere, you know?’), so to find herself in a city of gleaming new bar launches and apparently limitless alcohol left her feeling confused – and a little misled. ‘I’ve been here for five years, but when I post pictures on Instagram of state-of-the-art DJ booths, my friends are still like, “Hold on, where are you again?” They can’t reconcile the Iraq war zone they see on the news with the reality of my day-to-day.’

The truth is, she says, security might be tighter, but the nightlife here is wilder than anything she’d ever experienced back at home in the States; and it needs to be to help its inhabitants unwind from the extreme stress they face. ‘There’s a lot of drama, and I’d say there is always at least one person unconscious next to an empty vodka bottle at midnight,’ she says. ‘You’re not drinking to forget, exactly, but you are drinking to distance yourself from what you’ve been doing that day. If you spend 18 hours a day, six days a week working with rape victims or children who have been used as human shields by ISIS, then you really need to find a way to decompress and socialise for a few hours on your one night off. Otherwise you’d just be on your own in your room, far away from home, with all your thoughts.’

She’s not exaggerating: I catch up with Jess*, a 28-year-old producer from Canada, at Divan Erbil hotel’s no-expense-spared Cinco De Mayo-theme party. Think commissioned firework displays, discarded piles of Louboutins, breakdancers and DJ sets. ‘I spent all day today at a Yazidi women’s refugee camp less than 500 metres away from this place,’ she says, explaining that most of the women she’s been speaking to have experienced extreme trauma and kidnap at the hands of ISIS before escaping. ‘Then I come here, put my glow sticks on and everyone gets a little crazy. It’s about compartmentalising. Actually, you should meet my friend – he just got back from the front line in Mosul a couple of hours ago. His stories are some of the most harrowing that I’ve ever heard.’

Freelance journalist Jamie*, 27, from London, widens her eyes in agreement when I ask her about the city’s drinking culture. ‘The NGOs out here put their staff in shared houses – maybe six or seven employees living together at one time. So you might be in your twenties or thirties, but suddenly it’s like university all over again.’ The ensuing parties are legendary, she adds. Once, employees used their savings to hire Iraq’s famous cellist to sit on the rooftop and play for their barbecue while the guests drank vodka Martinis and beer, singing and swaying so hard they fell over.’

The best gatherings are held by French NGO employees,’ she recalls, although she is quick to note that party nights are funded by their own salaries, not the NGOs themselves. ‘As soon as you hear the French are having a house party, you cancel all your plans. They’re dealing with the worst atrocities of the war on a daily basis, so I think they party hard to cope with it. All day they are seeing babies who have had limbs blown off in air strikes; teenage girls who have bled out from sniper bullets… everyone has lost friends on the front line, but those guys see the absolute worst of everything.’ Jess nods at the mention of the French, but believes UK staffers could show them a thing or two. ‘I was at a British-run party last week and I can’t even tell you what went down,’ she says. ‘I hate to think what they were trying to forget.’

Colleagues are working in such a stressful environment, they need to trust each other and develop close relationships very quickly, explains Chiara Burzio, 36, Médecins Sans Frontières’ medical co-ordinator in Erbil. ‘Your colleagues are often the only people who understand what you’re going through, so you need to be able to offload with them in an environment outside of work. I’ve honestly never seen people drinking in an unhealthy way – there is so much psychological support provided to ensure everyone finds a healthy way to deal with life here. But I would definitely say that people smoke more.’

Even viewed through a haze of shisha and nicotine, the conflict’s proximity is inescapable – even if you’re simply seeking a caffeine hit. After arranging to meet friends at Barista – a Shoreditch-style coffee shop, complete with iced Americanos served in mason jars – I wander the length of the Christian district of Ankawa five times before eventually tracking my destination down for a meeting, only to discover that the building was recently relocated following an ISIS car bomb outside that killed four people and injured eight. Emergency preparedness officer Lottie*, 35, from the UK, says a lack of security is something you learn to live with in a war zone. ‘Every so often, you hear about a guy getting wasted and firing a round of bullets at the ceiling of a club somewhere. Stories like that stop being surprising after a while.’

Dating is also different when ISIS is just down the road. The constant comings-and-goings of an expat community built on month-long missions and 30-day visas lends sex a particularly casual air; Lottie tells me it’s an accepted fact that most of the guys she works with have ‘field girlfriends’ and ‘home girlfriends’. ‘The first question I ask on a date is “How are things?” The second one is “Are you actually single?”’ Her friend, Lucy*, 28, an English teacher from America, nods in agreement. But both women are keen to emphasise that it’s not just the men who sleep around. ‘People think we’d have bigger things to think about. And we do – I’ve been working in this industry for a long time, but the stories I hear coming out of Mosul are some of the worst I’ve ever come across. The things that ISIS is doing to women…’ Her voice trails off. ‘But when you’re miles away from your family and friends and hearing stories like that, you really want to forge new relationships as quickly as possible.’

I experience this first-hand. ‘I’m heading to the bazaar to buy a bulletproof vest,’ one guy told me after exchanging a total of four messages on Tinder. ‘Want to meet me there?’ Later, one NGO employee makes a bid to recreate a Hollywood romcom by persuading the Divan Erbil hotel’s bar manager to let us on to the balcony of the 21st floor. I see a flash across the horizon, illuminating the dark city below. ‘Lightening?’ I ask. ‘Air strikes,’ he replies casually, before burying his face in my neck.

‘Friends at home can’t understand how we’re using dating apps in a war zone,’ says Lottie. ‘But it’s only when I see everyone coupling up at house parties and disappearing into bedrooms like teenagers that I wonder if we should have grown out of this by now.’ Perhaps people who choose careers in war zones are actually very similar? Wilmshurst agrees. ‘It’s easy to assume that the environment is making them use alcohol or drugs or sex as a means of escapism. But research suggests that people who opt for these careers are predisposed to “running away”. They’re often impatient, seek constant stimulus or develop itchy feet if they stay in one place for too long.’

Still, Lucy questions if she’d be behaving like this at home: ‘It’s not that the rules are different here, it’s just that there are so many during the day, that after dark it’s like there aren’t any at all.’

*Names have been changed

Love Island is back and while we've all been loving the return of drama to our weekday evenings, it arguably went a bit far this week.

The past few episodes have seen the islanders shun 21-year-old Lucie Donlan for not putting her female friendships over her male friendships.

Fellow islander Amy Hart was the first to take issue with Lucie's preference to spend time with the boys, with Lucie's Love Island partner Joe Garratt following suit.

The girls labelled Lucie as 'unfriendly', while Joe - accused of being emotionally abusive - told her it was weird to spend more time with boys than girls and asked her to make more of an effort with the women in the villa.

Yes, Lucie has been attacked from all angles for simply being herself, something that has certainly taken its toll, with the Cornish surfer seeming to spend most nights crying alone on the terrace.

‘I can’t take it anymore’ she cried in one of the most recent episodes. 'Why should I have to change who I am? No one gets me.'

Watching the events unfold, I was furious - and after scouring my Twitter feed, I saw that I wasn't alone.

There were calls for Amy Hart’s exit after her ‘unfair’ and ‘bullying’ treatment of Lucie and Women's Aid were even using Joe as an example of mental abuse, but the most common complaint was the belief that men and women can't be friends, or that women should prioritise their friendships with the same sex over men.

I am a woman. My best friend is a man. And while I do have a close circle of female friends around me, my male friendships are incredibly important.

I'm not saying boys are better friends than girls or that I value my female friendships over my male friendships. My best friends' roles in my life have nothing to do with their gender - they have all earned their places for having my best interests at heart, supporting me and genuinely caring.

For someone to be bullied for naturally gravitating towards men rather than women is ridiculous, and even discussing this subject in my opinion, takes us back a long way.

One of the only people to check if Lucie was ok was her friend Tommy, with their friendship being the one that everyone took issue with in the first place. The irony.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still be tuning into Love Island, but I am very disappointed in the short-sighted views of the current contestants.

It's 2019 and no one's gender should pressure them into having certain friends.

We explore the ultimate ‘hands-on’ therapy...

Emma*, 26, lies back on a purple duvet, naked, legs spread wide apart. A man in his fifties stands at the foot of the bed, his erection poised. It’s the moment Emma has been waiting for. She feels secure; relaxed; a mixture of reassured calmness and electric excitement. She takes a deep breath, and says, ‘Come inside me.’ He gently eases into her, then pauses. ‘How do you feel?’ he asks. She laughs with relief, and answers, ‘Good.’

Though the room is cosy and the situation intimate, Emma isn’t about to have sex with her boyfriend or a casual date. The man with her is her sex surrogate.

A ‘sex surrogate’ is a professionally trained sex partner, who charges between £100-£200 an hour to practise intimate physical contact with clients – including penetration if necessary – to help them work through sexual problems that prevent them from engaging in healthy sexual relationships.

Clients’ issues can be the result of past sexual abuse; toxic relationships; affairs or even dealing with trauma following difficult births. Some clients are adult virgins; others can lack confidence due to hang-ups about their physical appearance.

‘The process is usually supported by a psychotherapist, who carefully discusses the client’s emotions after each session, addressing issues of the mind and body,’ explains London-based sexologist Mike Lousada, 48.

Of the 1,000 people Lousada has counselled throughout his career, he has acted as a surrogate to 25. ‘Many of these clients had undergone talk-based therapies for years, but they needed more than conversation,’ he asserts. ‘Directly exploring sexual touch with a surrogate in a safe, controlled environment enabled them to move forward.’ In some cases, he claims the process was ‘life-transforming’.

Sex surrogacy appears to have inimitable potential because it literally reaches parts other therapies cannot. And its scope is broad. Genevieve, 27, used a surrogate to help her accept the ‘unusual’ appearance of her labia. ‘I had always detested myself too much to enjoy sex, because I felt my labia were too large,’ she explains. ‘I desperately wanted labiaplasty, thinking that was the answer. But having regular sex with a surrogate in a safe and nurturing environment showed me I was normal, natural, gorgeous and could feel incredible as I am.’

Dylan and Jenny, both 29, have both just begun surrogacy following the birth of their daughter 14 months ago and while it’s early days, they are hopeful it will be successful. Dylan witnessed his wife tear terribly during labour and almost die; now ‘flashbacks of the scene and fear of hurting her during sex’ stop him getting hard. In turn, Jenny struggles with ‘poor body image’, and blames her severe scarring for his impotence. ‘Our bodies are haunted by that experience,’ she says. ‘We hope that over time, surrogate therapy will exorcise us.’

Mare Simone, 59, has acted as a sex surrogate for over three decades. Her career was inspired by her own experience of recovering from rape at 19. ‘Trauma and fear can cause the body to put up physical armour to protect itself: freezing, panic attacks, or dissociation from sexual situations that remind us of past ordeals,’ she says. ‘You can’t always talk those things away. It can require caring, careful touching of the private “armoured” places to remove those old defences.’

Nathan, 41, and Monique, 38, approached Simone for assistance after 16 years of marriage. ‘I was extremely inexperienced when I met my wife – I’d not even been on dates with other women,’ Nathan explains. ‘I didn’t know how to interact erotically. I was so deeply afraid of messing sex up with Monique that I’d avoid trying things at all.’ Monique interpreted her husband’s fear as rejection. ‘I grew up always feeling slightly unworthy – him turning me down made my insecurity worse,’ she says.

Stuck in a depressing rut, their otherwise strong, loving relationship broke down so they sought help – but traditional therapy was ineffective. ‘I saw multiple counsellors about the issues in my head, but still had no idea what to do physically,’ Nathan says.

Then they heard about surrogacy, which presented a possible solution. Could Nathan gain confidence by ‘practising’ sex with another woman, who’d teach him techniques and wouldn’t take his anxious hesitancy personally? Could being touched by someone accepting and supportive restore Monique’s self-esteem?

The pair visited Simone together.

‘I had to drag Nathan through the door first time, he was so scared, but after our first surrogacy session I could already see him change,’ Monique smiles. ‘We’ve been five times so far. Mare’s coaching us on how to play with sex – removing the pressure and weight of expectation.’

‘I imagined it’d be horrendously awkward being nude and having Mare touch me,’ says Nathan. ‘But she’s so relaxed and respectful, it’s a huge release.’ In turn, Monique worried she’d feel jealous watching her spouse with another woman, and fretted he’d start comparing her unfavourably to this ‘sex master’. In fact, she’s been surprised by her own feelings and admits to finding it ‘beautiful’ to see him opening up. ‘It’s a deep bonding experience, and back home we have fun sharing what we’ve learned,’ she reflects. ‘Mare’s brought hope into our relationship.’

But sexual intercourse isn’t always the ultimate goal of surrogacy, says Katie Sarra, a psychotherapist from Devon who collaborates with surrogates and is sometimes ‘the practice body’ herself. ‘If it does happen, it can take a year. Initial client-surrogate interactions often won’t go beyond touching each other’s hands. Slowly working through basic exercises helps people connect with their true feelings.’

Over time, clients progress through increasingly intense activities according to their needs. ‘Once a woman is ready to get naked, I play “the undressing game,”’ explains Lousada. ‘I remove a piece of clothing while expressing a belief that might stop me celebrating my body, like, "I’m ashamed of my tummy because it’s not flat," showing my vulnerability to put the client at ease. I’d encourage them to join in, sharing and shaking off their bodily hang-ups as they strip. Next, I might invite them to examine my genitals like a curious alien who has never encountered a dick before, handling it not to give pleasure, but just to see how it can feel rubbery, and how it bounces – it’s all about non-pressured play and discovery.’

Once the exploration phase is over, the surrogate may finally touch the patient’s own genitalia. ‘Sometimes I use “mapping”: simply placing a finger on different points – the clitoris; within the vagina; the outside of the anus; just inside the anal sphincter – so the client can create a mental ‘map’ of how each bit feels,’ explains Kian de la Cour, 46, a somatic (‘touch’) sex educator who provides surrogacy, and often works with blind people.

Provided a session is going well, the surrogate might perform oral sex or manual stimulation. Eventually, intercourse may take place – as it did with David*, who used a surrogate as a single, late-in-life virgin.

‘People ask why I didn’t hire a prostitute, or have a drunken one-night stand, but that would’ve left me empty,’ he explains. ‘Losing my virginity was about more than just sex; it was about intimacy, being nurtured every step of the way. Since childhood, I’d put up barriers that stopped me connecting with people; Surrogate Partner Therapy helped me work through that. I’m now in a loving, vibrant, sexual relationship with a woman – something I couldn’t have dreamt of before.’

But sex surrogacy is not without risks. There is the potential for some clients to become unhealthily attached to surrogates. Lousada emphasises that the crucial role of any good psychotherapist is to monitor clients’ emotions and keep them grounded in reality – but the surrogate must stay down-to-earth, too. ‘When you’re making breakthroughs and sharing wonderful moments with clients over many months, things feel deep, and endorphins are released that mimic the buzz of falling in love; you have to be very self-aware,’ cautions Simone.

So how do male surrogates get erect with patients they’re not attracted to? Surely a client’s fragile self-confidence could be crushed if faced with the limp, flaccid evidence they’ve failed to turn a man on. ‘Some therapists use Viagra,’ admits de la Cour. ‘But I’m against it as I believe everything that happens within sessions should be genuine, not fake or a performance. I view any touching that happens to me within a surrogacy context purely as my nervous system receiving input; it doesn’t matter who the input comes from – it’s a stimulus that I respond to viscerally.’

And in the rare case that he can’t get hard, it provides a good learning opportunity. ‘I talk about how a soft cock can still be fun and feel great to mess with,’ he says. Lousada admits that surrogacy is hugely demanding for a therapist though. ‘It requires so much psychologically that I’m currently having a break for a while because I’m burned out,’ he admits.

‘After spending years entirely focusing on clients’ sexual needs, I started dissociating from my own desires; I felt blocked from enjoying sex with my own partner, so I’ve changed my practice to work around this.’

Such occupational hazards are part of the job. Just finding a long-term partner who accepts what they do can also be tough. Consequently, many date fellow sexologists. Simone’s single, and struggling to find love. ‘I’m putting my energy into finding the right man this year, but my job makes it hard,’ she says. ‘It’s the price I pay to set others free.’

For better or worse, we love them all…

In partnership with Second Act

You and you mates might be like chalk and cheese, but that’s the beauty of it - from the one who’s always late, to the Crossfit obsessive, there’s room for everyone. Here are ten types of pal you’ll definitely be familiar with.

The TMI one

Five minutes after your first meeting you knew her favourite sex position, how heavy her periods are, plus her full relationship history. ‘Over-sharing’ is just not in her vocab.

The walking disaster

The only person you know to have missed a flight ‘cos she went to the wrong airport/fallen down an escalator/vomited in her date’s lap. She’s on first name terms with everyone at her local A&E.

The one who always knows what to say

Bad break-up? Didn’t get the job? Dream dress out of stock in your size? She’s the one you always turn to for comfort and advice.

The gossip

She’s the first to know who’s sleeping with who, and loves to share her intel. You pretend to be above it all but secretly love the juicy deets

The one who's always first on the dance floor

You need a few drinks to oil you up but she’s straight on the dance floor. Even when it’s empty. At 5pm.

The fitness freak

She drinks mocktails, never misses a gym sesh, and is always training for something or other. It’s baffling.

The one who looks good in everything

She’s got a figure to die for and could make a supermarket uniform look stylish, but you don’t resent her ‘cos you love her.

The one who never listens

You’ll have a super long conversation with her about something, but the next time you bring it up? She won’t remember a thing. Infuriating.

The one who ALWAYS needs to borrow money

We all know the one. She spends her wages as soon as she gets them and conveniently ‘forgets’ her purse when you go out to dinner. *eye roll*

The sassy one

Challenge her to anything and she’ll accept. She’s got guts and she doesn’t go down without a fight. We should all be more like her. Period.

Second Act sees Maya Vargas (Jennifer Lopez) get a second chance at her dream career when she lands a role as a consultant at a top Manhattan cosmetics firm. Her ambition? Real. Her CV? Not so much… Find out if she can pull it off when Second Act hits cinemas January 25th.

Romesh Ranganathan, comedian and TV star, pays tribute to the women who have shaped his life and transformed his career

Romesh Ranganathan owes a lot to his mother, probably wouldn't be here without his wife, and aspires to be more like Kathryn Ryan. Here, the stand-up comedian waxes on the women who matter most to him, and why

My mother Shanthi

‘Mum came to Crawley from Sri Lanka at 19 after marrying my dad. Later, Dad had financial problems and they split for a while. Our house was repossessed and we lived in a B&B until we got a council house. It was a struggle, but Mum just got her head down, found cleaning jobs and never complained. I owe her a lot, so I now do everything she says. She had friends over recently who wanted to meet me because they’d seen me on TV, so Mum made me drop what I was doing to go round. I was like, “Mum, I’m not coming over to do a PA.” But I went, much to my wife’s disbelief.’

'Being a comedian is a very vacuous thing to decide to do'

My wife Leesa

‘When I started doing stand-up, I resigned from my job as a maths teacher and, three days before I was due to leave, my dad passed away. I wasn’t able to focus on work, we couldn’t pay the bills and our car was taken away, but Leesa never showed a lack of faith. I felt I’d put us through a bad patch and not for a very noble reason – being a comedian is a very vacuous thing to decide to do – but she came to all my shows and gave me feedback. Without her support I wouldn’t have been a comedian.’

Comedian Katherine Ryan

‘She’s a good mate, but I’d include her even if she wasn’t, as she’s one of the best comics around, all while being a single mum. When I started, I did one gig where she was on before me and she smashed it so much I didn’t want to follow her. She’s funny in her own unique way and that’s what I aspire to in my comedy.’

Singer Sza

‘SZA’s album Ctrl is my favourite of the last year, because she’s honest to a fault. I strive for honesty because I think that’s where the funniest stuff comes from. In her music, she talks about her insecurities. We’re so used to artists who assert themselves in a “nothing can knock me” way, so I was taken by the vulnerability of this album. It directly impacted the way I write.’

Actress Emma Thompson

‘She’s a hero. I know I should probably refer to Sense And Sensibility, but that scene in Love Actually when she opens the present and it’s a CD instead of a necklace… Normally, when celebrities talk about causes, I think, oh shut up, but Emma knows what she’s talking about. I was fortunate enough to meet her recently, and she was as magical as I hoped she’d be.’

Straight Outta Crawley by Romesh Ranganathan (£20, Bantam) is out now

One 25-year-old woman's story of finding love after discovering she had a brain tumour

*Anna Louise Swabey passed away in the early hours of September 16th, 2016.

‘I knew halfway through my third date with Andy that I was going to break his heart. Not because I was going to cheat on him or dump him, but because I knew I was going to die.

‘I’d been diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour a month earlier, in January 2015, after suffering a huge seizure in my bathroom. I was rushed to hospital, and they found a rare, inoperable tumour. Sitting in the consultant’s office the following week, my parents wept as I was given three years to live, but I just felt stunned.

I was only in my twenties, yet I was already a manager at a designer outlet and I was incredibly ambitious. Plus, while I’d had a four-year relationship in the past, we weren’t right for each other. It might sound silly, but when I was told I was dying, I was panicking about never getting the chance to meet ‘the one’.

‘Back at home, I felt frightened and depressed. My sister was on Tinder and after a fortnight she suggested I set up an account as a distraction. Reluctantly trawling through matches, I swiped right on Andy’s face. When he messaged me just minutes later, I felt a flush of excitement, then remembered it couldn’t go anywhere. Dying people didn’t date, so part of me did feel guilty as I replied, but just being “normal” again was so lovely that I couldn’t help myself.

‘Soon we were talking constantly, but when he texted to suggest meeting up, I felt scared. “I’m terminally ill and I’ll probably be dead in three years,” I typed. “I’ll understand if you want to leave things here.” I figured this was it, he’d delete my number and go find a healthy girl. He replied a minute later, saying he still wanted to meet me.

‘Heading to meet him at a pub, I was still sceptical. I brought up my illness, in case he felt uncomfortable. However, I soon realised that, in the nicest possible way, Andy wasn’t interested in my condition, he just wanted to get to know me. After our third date, on Valentine’s Day, we admitted we were falling for each other.

In December, ten months after we’d met, he proposed. As he got down on one knee, I cried and asked if he was sure – if we went ahead, he’d be a widower before he was 30. I could die following a seizure, or he might have to take care of me until the bitter end. My personality could even change. But he said that he’d rather be married to me for a few years than not at all.

‘When we got together, I worried about what our families would think. My parents were concerned in case Andy didn’t fully understand how sick I was, and I was nervous about meeting his mum and dad – who’d want their son to fall in love with someone who was dying? But they said they’d never seen Andy so happy, and that was good enough for them.

 ‘I know I’m lucky. Anyone who thinks I’ve “settled” just to get married before I die is crazy. Why would I waste precious time pretending to be in love? We both know things have moved quickly, and it is pretty intense, but we still bicker over whose turn it is to wash the dishes. We just make up quickly; there’s no time to dwell on the little things.

 ‘I’ve come to terms with my death now, yet I struggle when I think about how it’s going to affect Andy. I worry about how he’ll cope when I start slipping away. I hate the idea of him becoming my carer, and it terrifies me that I might not be “myself” at the end. That’s why we’re getting married in September. It’s not about a dress or a big party, it’s about making memories for Andy and making a commitment to each other.

Terminal illness has taught me to seize opportunities, so I have to trust him when he says he wants to be with me forever. Even if we don’t know how long that is.

Divorcee Sarah Ivens on why tying the knot for a second time is a very different ballgame

A second marriage is a big deal for Meghan Markle. I know this, because I too am a second-time bride and, as an obviously jubilant Meghan Markle and Prince Harry made their first appearance in public together after the announcement of their engagement in the gardens of Kensington Palace back in November last year, there were a number of reasons to rejoice. Here was a very successful 36-year-old mixed-race feminist with her own kick-ass career who had won the heart of a prince over the parade of privileged aristo-clones he’d dated in the decades before.

But it wasn’t just these things, or her humanitarian work, or even her wicked sense of humour, that had me excitedly poring over every snippet of news about the wedding as well as commending her achievements with my colleagues. Meghan’s engagement represented a watershed moment for women or, more pertinently, for divorced women like me. I know first-hand the journey she must have gone through to get to the place she was that day. Her inclusion into our stuffy monarchy highlights just how much times have now changed for female divorcees, who even a decade ago would be regarded as soiled goods to be left on the shelf.

Although second marriage after a divorce is common in the UK, and despite some statistics telling us that a second marriage is more likely to be successful, a second-time bride has always carried a stigma.

I remember meeting my second set of future in-laws for the first time. On top of the usual nerves, I was petrified about the judgment I might receive. My partner’s parents knew only a handful of things about me, one of which was that I’d been divorced four years earlier, having married in my twenties. At 34 years old, I felt like an imposter as I walked red-cheeked into a Hertfordshire pub to meet my future mother and father-in-law (who, incidentally, had been childhood sweethearts and married for decades). Would they think I was second-hand goods, ensnaring their innocent son Russell (who hadn’t even lived with a girlfriend) into a trap? Or did they presume that I was just no good at commitment, or that I was hiding some dark secrets about my past?

'Like all divorcées, Meghan knows what she wants from a husband'

Desperate to address the elephant in the room, I decided to confront my insecurities head on with Russell’s mother and sister the second time we met. ‘Ask me anything you want,’ I pleaded with them, telling them no subject was off limits. They stared at me wide-eyed as I summed up five years of drama about my previous relationship, including how opening my decree nisi and seeing a thick rubber stamp invalidating the hopes I once held so dear, made me cry for three hours straight. Finally I told them why, having gone through the whole rigmarole of a big wedding before, like most second-time brides, I was now more focused on the marriage and the man than the trappings of the day. I remember his mother taking my hand in hers. ‘We’re just happy Russell is happy,’ she smiled. I was overwhelmed with emotion.

Only a divorced woman can truly appreciate the hours of self-reflection that will come with getting yourself ready for a second marriage. They know that delving into the psychology of relationships brings many positives to the next attempt, which far outweigh the social stigma and sniggers of observers. Like all divorcees, Meghan knows what she wants from a husband and, more importantly, what she doesn’t. Her experience makes her confident she’s making an informed decision this time. I can tell you that when you make a public mistake like marrying the wrong person in front of everyone you love, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure it never happens again.

'I entered my second marriage knowing I never want to leave it'

Like most second-timers, I entered my second marriage knowing I never want to leave it, that I will fight for it with therapy, honesty and realism, till death do us part. I’m not expecting a fairy tale, and neither will Meghan – despite her new marriage beginning at Windsor Castle. To marry again; to reveal your feelings to the world again, after the failure and heartbreak of a divorce – means you really do believe in love. Making a mess of it the first time only made me more determined to find the right partner and give marriage a second chance.

‘The biggest benefit of marrying for a second time is the self-awareness that it brings,’ says couples therapist Katherine Loyd. ‘It means we are making the decision to love and trust again, choosing to appreciate the reality of being in a relationship, rather than pushing for things to be exactly the way we want them to be, as we may have done naively the first time. In choosing to appreciate what is actually available to us, we release ourselves from dwelling on fantasies of what should be, and see life as it really is.’

'Make sure you're truly over your ex'

Hannah, 35, remarried six months ago, after careful contemplation about what to change in her own behaviour and expectations. ‘There was deep self-analysis after my first marriage broke down,’ she says. ‘I realised I’d chosen my ex based on who I thought I ought to marry, who could give me what I wanted at that time. Going into my second marriage, I considered in much more depth whether we worked well as a team, with shared interests and ambitions that we both want to achieve together over the long term.’

Gabrielle, 41, is currently planning her second wedding, and agrees that failing the first time around makes you think more about the lifetime commitment you are making. ‘Second-time marriages are less about Beyoncé’s Crazy In Love and more about The Beatles’ When I’m 64. You are more mature, and understand that partnerships are about hard work, time and energy if you want them to last. Relationships feel more considered and communication improves, too.’

'What can you change ahead of your second marriage?'

However, if you’ve been through a divorce and are considering marrying again, make sure you’re truly over your ex before committing, advises Trevor Silvester, author of Lovebirds: How To Live With The One You Love. ‘The key thing to watch out for is that you don’t bring your last relationship into the new one,’ he explains. ‘Resist your brain’s natural inclination to search for old, negative patterns in this new situation, and see your new partner for what they are – unique. And if you realise you’ve married – or are about to marry – the same person again (which is more common than you might think), then get some therapy to explore why that is. Change you first.’

As for going low-key with a second wedding, although many opt for it, it’s not obligatory. On my second wedding day, I wore white because I knew Russ wanted me to. I had to be mindful that this was his first nuptials and he wanted it to feel special, too. I also had eight bridesmaids – real women in their thirties, who’d stuck with me through the turbulence of my previous decade, rather than the pretty little cousins my mum had persuaded me to have for my first wedding. A few people made sarcastic remarks about my luxuriant choices, as if I didn’t deserve a second shot at a glorious day. But I had earned this celebration more than I had the first one. And so had my husband. I’m pretty sure Harry and Meghan have, too.

The divorcee’s guide to a happy second marriage

Taking the plunge for a second time? Here are a few things to consider before you say ‘I do’.

Have you given yourself enough time to really get to know the person you’re about to marry?

Could you be rushing into a decision based on craving security, a fear of getting old, or missing out on children? Make sure you know everything you need to know about your partner, and that you’ve met their friends and family.

If it’s the second time around for both of you, mull over what your relationship is like with their ex and/or children.

Consider how everyone feels about you, and how you feel about them. If kids are involved, it’s vital to maintain a good relationship for happy families on both sides.

Take time to decide who is going to play a big part in your wedding day.

Be wary of asking the same people to be bridesmaid or maid of honour, in case any remarks about your first wedding are made.

If you’re using a wedding planner, tell them this is your second time to avoid any awkwardness.

They’ll need to be aware for paperwork purposes, and they can give a heads-up to anyone else involved on the day.

Avoid comparing this wedding to your last, especially in front of your partner.

Comments like, ‘we can’t have that cake because I had it the last time’ are a big no-no.

This article originally appeared in the February issue of Marie Claire

Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan say 'yes'...

From the editors of InStyle US Words by Olivia Bahou

Between their busy work schedules and raising their 4-year-old daughter Everly, Jenna Dewan and Channing Tatum have quite the load on their plates. So when it comes to making time for just the two of them, Dewan Tatum says they work it into the calendar.

While they haven’t gone so far as scheduling sex, they definitely plan intimacy time in advance. ‘We have not yet scheduled sex, but we do schedule time together, so maybe that is sort of scheduling sex,’ she told Health.

‘We will go away for a weekend to get time, but we have no real regimented schedule. I have friends who do this [schedule sex]; It’s on the calendar. We’ve never done that—it might actually be a good idea.’

It doesn’t sound like they need the calendar reminder, though. ‘I’m a very sensual person, same with Chan. It is just how we’re made up, and it’s a big part of how we connect. There’s a real tangible physical connection,’ Dewan Tatum explains.

‘You know when Oprah asks, “What do you know for sure?” The body does not lie. You can convince your mind of things, think you’re in love, but your body doesn’t lie. If your stomach is clenching or you feel attracted, that’s all for a reason. You can’t convince your body to feel something it doesn’t.’

The couple’s daughter, Everly, is now 4 years old, but Dewan Tatum isn’t thinking about baby No. 2 just yet. ‘I haven’t yet made my decision, and I’m leaving it to the universe to show me the way. I love the idea of another child, and it might be in the cards, but I’ll know when I know,’ she said.

‘A lot of women I know plan it, and that’s their decision, they want it within three years, but that was not a possibility for us. It felt too overwhelming. I’m so thrilled with one child. If the desire [for another child] comes around, it will happen, that’s the way I look at it.’