This is a tough post to write and tougher to find some good punchlines, but an important one nonetheless. 

When I was in my 20s sexting didn’t even seem like a thing, I don’t recall anyone ever asking me for photos, or sending me x-rated text message asking me to be their personal human golf course. 

Part of me wonders if this is some post-COVID phenomenon, all the remote working has meant people would rather stay in the comfort of their home than deal with public transport. It could also be linked to the cost-of-living – train tickets, coffees and condoms have all gone up in price so people want to ‘try before they buy’. 

Whatever the reason one issue remains the same: sexting is dangerous for women. The law may have changed but society hasn’t. 

Having had my own personal brush with revenge porn as a teenager, I have always had a hard line against anything that could compromise my safety. So when I found myself inundated with requests for photos, dirty talk and video chats I was overwhelmed. Unprepared, I unmatched account after account, but with the volume of requests I assumed this was normal and it never occurred to me to actually report any of these profiles to the platform. That’s lesson 1 – you can always report!

After a while the frequency made me start to doubt myself. Was I the problem? Was this what flirting is now? And that’s lesson 2 – ask your friends for advice.

Slowly I convinced myself this was normal, that this was modern dating and I needed to adapt. So one night whilst unable to sleep someone matched me (who was actually a 10! That doesn’t happen to me, here is the proof) and I just kind of went for it. At first I felt pretty good about it, the chats varied from friendly and validating to more sexy. 

Then one day things turned. Call it over excitement or thrill seeking, but it culminated me in a quiet corner of M&S sending some recently taken photos. Frankly I am lucky I am not on some sort of list! 

The next day, all the fear from my teenage years came rushing back and I was in a state of perma-panic. So I did what any sensible person would do – I waited for him to message me. He didn’t. 

Day two I tested the water and sent a friendly text saying things had gotten a bit intense. Got a laughing emoji. The panic grew. 

Day three I sent a politely worded text asking him to clear his chat. And he did reply saying he would. Imagine if I had just left it there? This story wouldn’t have such an embarrassing ending. 

Day four I asked when he wanted to meet up as we’d discussed. No response. 

Day five self-doubt kicks in again – I was being dramatic right? This sexting thing is normal right? So what do I do? Send him another sexy message. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond (and kind of don’t blame him, at that point I knew I’d gone crazy). 

It’s hard to blame him for running faster than Roadrunner from an woman who’d gone full Whiley Coyote. And an honest chat with my friend confirmed this (remember lesson 2, talk to your friends). At the same time, however, I can’t help there should be unwritten sextiquette rule that you don’t completely ghost someone. 

So finally lesson 3 – stay true to yourself, say no and stay safe.