WHERE'S THE SISTERHOOD GONE?
Let’s be real: when you’re a single woman, people treat you differently.
The invites slow down. The catch-ups get fewer. Group events morph into couples' things. You used to be part of the crew. Now, you're on the outskirts, almost like your singleness is a social inconvenience and you're often looked upon with pity.
Here’s the thing: I’m not lonely. I’m not sad I’m not pining after someone’s lifestyle. I have a great life, I’m just observing as a writer. And what I’m noticing is that sisterhood, you know the real, honest, show-up-for-each-other sisterhood, often disappears when your life doesn’t follow the expected script.
When my book got published recently and started conversations in literary circles, the group chat got quiet. They knew this was my dream. But there were no congratulations. No likes, No check-ins. Just crickets. The same women I rooted for through every milestone suddenly had nothing to say.
And since we’re speaking honestly, I don’t want your husband or your boyfriend.
If I’m chatting and he’s sitting next to you, please relax. I’m not trying to poach anyone. I’m allowed to exist in the same space without it being a perceived threat. If the idea of an attractive woman being single and confident makes you nervous, that’s something for you to unpack, not me. If I’m talking and he’s sitting next to you, please don’t act like I’m making moves. I’m not. The assumption is tired and frankly, insulting.
I can hold a conversation without it being about scheming. That says more about the dynamic in your relationship than anything about me.
Sisterhood isn’t supposed to be conditional. It’s not something that only applies when our lives look the same. Real sisterhood is flexible. It grows with us. It includes the ones who are thriving, the ones who are rebuilding, and the ones who are just doing their own thing.
So where is it?
Because I still believe in it but I also believe we need to start being more honest about how often we abandon each other when life paths diverge. Let’s rebuild it without the ego, the insecurity, the silent competition. Let’s choose connection over comparison. Let’s actually show up for each other and not just when it’s convenient or familiar.
To the women who still do that? Thank you. You’re rare. You’re real.
And to everyone else, we’re not here to threaten you. We just want our seat back at the table.
Read my award winning book, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE SO DO IT ANYWAY
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FFMJGQQK​

THE SITUATIONSHIP
After I left my marriage, I didn’t fall in love. I fell into fire. It was fast, intoxicating, magnetic,  the kind of connection that lights you up and blinds you at the same time. A passionate situationship that felt like escape, like rebirth, like proof that I was still desirable, still alive. It had been 25 years since I had slept with another man and I never thought I would. It was exhilarating, exciting and all consuming.
But what I didn’t see at the time was how thin the line is between chemistry and chaos. He was charming, yes  but cruel. Belittling in a way that’s hard to put your finger on. Sarcastic compliments, Putting down my business, saying I didn’t do any real work. All subtle digs disguised as humour or concern, chipping away at my confidence while pretending to be supportive. It was manipulation wrapped in charm, designed to make me doubt my worth and question my success. Silent punishments, little jabs that made me question myself. And bit by bit, without realising it, I began to shrink again. I softened my voice. I tolerated things I screamed about in my marriage. I let boundaries blur, not because I didn’t have any, but because I wanted to be loved and desired so badly, I started to forget my own worth.I thought I was in control. But really, I was just lost again. This time in someone else’s storm. I accepted breadcrumb affection. I tolerated low-level cruelty and piss taking masked as banter. I allowed yet another man to dim my light to keep his shining. I will never lose myself like that again. Again, my boundaries were skewered. But I’ve learned passion isn’t the same as respect. Intensity isn’t the same as intimacy. And being wanted doesn’t mean being valued.
Now, my standards are sky high.
Not for how someone looks  but for how they speak to me.
How they show up.
How they honour my boundaries.
How they make me feel when I’m not naked and smiling.
That situationship taught me what I will never tolerate again. Funnily enough it was a word he used to describe me. I was “intolerable” to him. But really I was just a woman with a voice who wasn’t prepared to be quiet. I understand that intolerable often just means "a woman who won’t tolerate nonsense." It means I have boundaries, standards, and a voice I’m no longer afraid to use. If that makes me too much for him, then he was never enough for me. The situationship was a hard, necessary lesson and I don’t regret it. Because from that place of chaos, I found a fiercer kind of self-love. One with teeth. One with a spine.I am certain he has found less with someone else.
It didn’t end with a dramatic goodbye. It ended quietly by text with a message “I don’t find you sexually attractive”. And then I was blocked like I never existed. Erased in a second. That was heartbreak in its most cowardly form. Cruel, cutting, and deliberately designed to wound  and it says everything about him, not me. That text was completely unnecessary. And for a while, it did exactly what he wanted it to: it made me question my worth. My body. My desirability. Everything I had been slowly rebuilding since my marriage ended. I cried for a year. But here’s what I know now: When someone tries to destroy you with words, it’s because they already feel powerless.
That text wasn’t the truth. I know I’m gorgeous. It was a last attempt to humiliate me. He tried to break me but here’s the thing, I am unbreakable.The woman I am now doesn’t stay on the floor. She reads that text, wipes her tears, and writes a book. That man doesn’t get the final word. He most certainly doesn’t get to define my beauty, my physical strength, my worth, or my sexuality.
Excerpt from my book, You're Going to Die so Do It Anway,

 SEX SWINGS AND DICKHEADS.
I have a love-hate relationship with social media. It’s like that friend who’s hilarious and always down for a good time but also wildly inappropriate at the worst moments. On the good days, I love it. I get to see what my friends are up to, discover new music, share memes, and pretend I’m going to do all those workouts to tone my abs. On the bad days? I seriously question why I’m still here.
Social media is essential for my business. It’s how I network, promote and stay visible. It’s also the easiest way to stay connected with my kids and keep up with their lives where ever they are. So quitting isn’t exactly an option but some days I wish it were.
Take this weekend, for example.
I don’t usually entertain men in my DMs. I’ve learned my lesson with too many weird encounters and far too many unsolicited comments. But I was a week into having my apartment all to myself, which rarely happens at this time of year. No plans, no distractions, just me and a lot of silence which I was enjoying. But when a really attractive guy slid into my DMs one evening, I figured, ok. Let’s chat.
He led with the classic “Hey, beautiful” line, which honestly should have been my first red flag. Let’s be clear. “Hey, beautiful” isn’t a compliment. It’s generic, impersonal, and tells me nothing about why you’re actually messaging me other than you saw a photo and thought you’d try your luck. Thanks, but I own a mirror. I don’t need that kind of surface-level validation . Still, I was bored so I responded.
At first, it was surface level stuff. Basic chitchat. He was Russian, allegedly working for the EU in Cyprus, divorced with a teenage son. So far so good. Money and good looks. But it escalated very quickly. And by escalated, I mean within minutes, this man sent me a picture of his sex swing and asking me if I liked it.
I hadn't hint or drop any cues that I wanted that kind of conversation. And yet, there it was, swinging into my DMs like we were in the middle of some steamy saga I never signed up for. No context. No respect. Just straight-up digital creep behavior.
Why do they do this?
What is it about social media that makes some men feel so entitled to other people’s time, attention, and bodies? There was no warmth, no effort, just a blatant display of objectification. It’s like being catcalled, but worse because it happens in the space that’s supposed to feel like yours.
I didn’t reply. Didn’t educate. Didn’t scold. I just blocked him. Because at this point, I’m not in the business of fixing grown men who think sending sex furniture is a flirty opener.
Anyone who knows me knows I am definitely not a prude and I wasn't shocked and there are things I would happily do with a partner I am sharing intimacy with. It takes more than a few leather straps to rattle me
But this is the double-edged sword of social media. I need it. I rely on it. But it also makes me feel exhausted, exposed, and, sometimes, completely done with the idea of putting myself out there.
Men don’t make any effort to see the real person anymore.
It’s like they’re skipping the connection, the curiosity, the actual getting to know someone and going straight to the fantasy. Straight to the objectification. Like we’re just profiles to conquer.
This kind of behaviour isn’t isolated, every one of my friends will share a similar story It’s part of something bigger and more disturbing.
There’s a whole undercurrent of misogyny online, and it’s growing louder. Incel culture, red pill ideology, and male-driven echo chambers are feeding this belief that women exist to be dominated, used, or put in their place. It’s not just ignorance, it’s hostility. And social media gives it a megaphone with no accountability for their behaviour.
And so, here I am. This is why I’m single and this why I don’t do dating apps.
And this is why I’ll probably live out the rest of my years choosing celibacy and cats.
And honestly? I'm fine with that.