When I saw a teaser for Dolly Alderton’s latest agony aunt column on the Sunday Times Style Instagram account the other day, I’m fairly certain I cackled with glee. As you can see from the below, the problem is a juicy one, almost precisely because it’s not all that juicy. The writer doesn’t want to… Continue reading Chemistry lessons
Category: love
Boring in bed: on sex, desire & vulnerability
I know someone who does not kiss on a first date. It’s a shameless and transparent ploy, because he tells the woman at the start of the evening that he doesn’t kiss on a first date, effectively setting up a challenge. I assume he has to play this game to concoct the frisson that other people… Continue reading Boring in bed: on sex, desire & vulnerability
On love and panic
I woke early this morning – who’s on a healthy sleep schedule these days, anyway? – and looking for something quick and digestible to read, stumbled across this New York Times opinion piece. And it needled me more than it should have done, possibly because I had a conversation with a friend a few days… Continue reading On love and panic
Bookcase detective
Judging people on a specific behaviour or habit of theirs is obviously fairly limiting; I for one would not come off well if judged on the speed with which I reply to WhatsApp messages. I would be found wanting. But we all have our methods, our metrics for ascertaining whether a new acquaintance will become… Continue reading Bookcase detective
A change of decade
A big birthday makes self-important fools of us all, so I wrote 20-year-old Kirsten a rough guide to the decade she was about to embark upon, from the wise and lofty heights of 30. Hello, 20-year-old Kirsten – student, flibbertigibbet, mere child – it’s Kirsten at 30. Fuck off, 30’s not old. Have a read of… Continue reading A change of decade
In search of the lightning strike
Most first-person pieces on dating end neatly (‘and I quit all the apps one Sunday and met my husband on the Tuesday’, or ‘I have decided to stay single, I now devote my life to rescuing orphaned goats*, and I’ve never been happier’) and frankly, so they should. The general rule of writing is: take… Continue reading In search of the lightning strike
Risotto: a love letter
I love the significance we ascribe to food, the memories certain dishes evoke. Most of mine take me back to Granny’s kitchen: the smell of frying bacon will always put me by her Aga on a crisp blue winter’s morning; whenever I eat shortbread, I can see her taking a pale gold slab out of… Continue reading Risotto: a love letter
Lines on lust
The thing about being both insecure and perhaps a touch self-involved is that when someone sends you a 4,000-word email explaining what they think of you, you find it more compelling than creepy. I received one such missive fairly recently, and it contained – among a host of other wildly incorrect things – a line… Continue reading Lines on lust
One of the guys
I don’t watch Love Island, but round at a friend’s last week, I caught a bit of it and frankly, it just caused me considerable distress. I’m perfectly capable of mustering up enough heartbreak in my own life; I have no desire to watch other people being hurt in the name of entertainment. But while… Continue reading One of the guys
Low-maintenance
I have a friend who teaches boys how to kiss. Not as a job, you understand – but if she’s dating a guy and doesn’t like the way he kisses, she will tactfully put him right. I’m not sure of her exact methods (it would be weird if I’d witnessed this, let’s be honest) but… Continue reading Low-maintenance
Inbetween Girl 