Page 34 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
And there he is. I notice he has a blue tick. He is verified. Because there are imposters? I happen upon a version of a sketched picture with a man sat on an armchair, schlong on full view. He looks very comfortable in such a position. It has 52,014 likes. I show it to Emma.
‘Holy granola, girl, it’s not even past the watershed.’ She looks away like I’ve shone a laser in her eyes.
‘That’s what Danny was doing with the sex toys.’
Emma looks confused. ‘Like masturbating with them and looking at porn?’
‘No, that’s Danny…’
‘He’s life modelling? No offence but your Danny’s a bit more…rounded?’ She gestures as she says it, almost as if he’s pregnant.
‘He drew it. He draws about sex and stuff. Like a pastime. I think?’
She takes my phone and scrolls through the content. Everything I need to know is communicated via her eyebrows and one picture that makes her quickly draw breath and turn the phone a full one hundred and eighty degrees.
‘I see.’
Strangely, she doesn’t recoil in horror at the images displayed before her. She may not be the prude that I thought she might be.
‘Anatomically, these are all very accurate. I’m impressed by the detail and the fact he’s been quite honest.’
‘Huh?’
She shows me a full-on vulva. ‘Like take this, I’d expect when most men fantasise about the perfect lady parts, they’re wanting tight, shaved – that sort of early twenties porn look. This is a proper labia with full on bush.’
‘Proper?’
‘Overgrown, flappy.’ Her eyes widen as she realises it might be mine. I feel a twinge of shame. ‘But then you look on here and it’s another one, not quite perfect like in a textbook. These are natural images, the labial lips are more pronounced.’ It’s suddenly all gone a bitGray’s Anatomy. ‘Lady parts are strange-looking entities, most men don’t know their vulvas from their vaginas but this is someone who knows them, who understands them. Look at the shading on that clitoral hood, he knows exactly where the underlying glans are too. I mean he knows where it is…that’s a start…’
I forget that Emma’s looking at this with a detached medical mind. As long as Danny’s remembered to dot in a urethra then she’ll be happy. She studies the page intently.
‘Look at this one where the lightning is shooting out of this woman’s vagina.’
I have a look. It owes a lot to Thor and I hope that anyone else involved is wearing something with rubber soles.
‘Saucy,’ she says.
‘Absurd. The last time I felt a sensation like electricity down there was when Polly’s head was emerging.’ I reply.
She laughs scrolling through more images.
‘Having fun?’ I ask.
‘This is almost as fun as Tinder,’ she replies.
‘Say what now?’ I say, surprised.
‘Tinder, it’s a dating app,’ she explains.
‘Yes, I know what Tinder is. What the hell are you doing on it?’ This was Emma, newly divorced but also a woman who’s only ever worn white knickers since she was a teenager.
‘It was our darling Lucy, wasn’t it? Signed me up to get me back on the horse.’ I can’t quite decide if this is an act of pure genius or idiocy which defines the littlest sister perfectly.
‘And have you ridden any horses?’ I ask her.
‘No, I have not,’ she replies, shocked at the comment. I look at her and she knows what I want. She reluctantly gets out her phone and shows me her profile.
‘And this is for finding a new bloke? How you found Jag?’
