‘I don’t know the question, but sex is definitely the answer.’
– Woody Allen

OK. So today really is happening and I am desperately trying not to become overwhelmed with disappointment and disillusionment. What a mess. What a ridiculous mess.

This referendum could be described as the pinnacle of a pretty crappy year. I can’t help but feel like I’ve been fighting a losing battle on too many fronts. This fucking EU referendum, revealing that ignorance and division do win the day; the junior doctors contract debacle, where I have actively fought to determine quite how worthless I am willing to feel; so much hatred and anger and prejudice and fear, played out in gun battles in familiar settings and murder in broad daylight; continued economic depression and political bullshit and…I could go on, but I won’t. It’s too much.

Except that this hasn’t been a pretty crappy year. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite! It’s been pretty fucking fantastic, and that is largely because I have been lucky. So incredibly, heart-singingly, it-makes-me-want-to-dance-on-the-moon lucky that I’ve not been alone in this shitstorm. I have people to hold my hand and laugh with and distract me, and I have someone who won’t ever let me feel alone and who makes me unspeakably happy even when I’m otherwise drowning and who can fuck me into such a sticky mess of oblivion that I can’t remember where I am, let alone how horrible real life outside this bubble can be.

And that’s really something. It’s something important.

Yes, there is a lot that could accurately be described as seriously fucked up right now and yes, it’s not sensible to completely turn our backs on the horrors of reality as they will always catch up with us eventually, but it is possible to escape, even just for a moment. Not everything is ruined, not everything is broken. It’s not all terrible and not always miserable. This may seem annoyingly flippant and naively optimistic but really if there was ever a time to channel your Maria Von Trapp and focus on what is still good, it’s now.

So, with a few of my favourite things in mind, thank fuck for sex!

Thank fuck for first dates and one hundredth dates and booty calls and long anticipated plans. For people who can make our stomachs flip and our hearts race. For overwhelming desire or crippling need that is impossible to ignore.

Thank fuck for lips and mouths and kisses. Thank fuck for glances that promise so much and anticipatory butterflies that flutter inside. For waiting, for teasing, and for the overwhelming delight of giving in. Thank fuck for making out like a horny teenager as if snogging is all you need to get off. For public displays of affection so graphic that you really ought to get a room or stop or at least move around a corner, but you just can’t not touch them. And thank fuck for those touches that cause goosebumps all over our skin or full body shivers that carry on tingling long after the contact has passed.

Thank fuck for arms and hands and fingers. Thank fuck for being held so close you might suffocate or hugged so hard you might be crushed. For being fully engulfed in someone, breathing them deep into your lungs and losing yourself in them. Thank fuck for strong and patient hands, gripping hips or grasping handfuls of hair to hold you still. For the sparks that carefully placed touches can ignite as fingers slip through wet folds or curl around thick cocks. Oh, thank fuck for the sensory overload of sex; for the delicious sounds and moans and gasps, for the softness against tongues and mouths and fingers, for mouthwatering tastes and eye-wateringly beautiful sights. Thank fuck for the inexpressible sensation of being filled; whether that’s opening wide until his cock grazes your throat or squeezing around him as he thrusts harder and deeper, or anything and everything else.

You know, just thank fuck for cock! I mean, it’s kind of, it’s just…hang on, I need a minute…

Thank fuck for filthy texts and sexy selfies. For distracting dick pics and dazzlingly hot fantasies. For instructions and demands, for shared wishes and dirty stories. For the endless possibilities and infinite curiosities. For the full fucking range and variety of orgasms, from the quick release of a functional wank to blinding, violent waves of pleasure that flow from the inside out until I am a panting, sweaty husk of my former self, and all the colours in between.

Thank fuck that some of the messes that we make are kind of wonderful, that somethings can still feel fucking fantastic. That sometimes other people can be extraordinary, that some people are worth keeping around as they are just worth their weight in gold. That maybe sex or love or pleasure or happiness can conquer all. For a while anyway.

And today certainly feels like a day that I needed to be reminded of that…