As children, Catholic children anyway, we’re taught what behaviour is acceptable and what is not, primarily through religion which was the world’s first institute showing a differing from right and wrong. We see Eve eat the apple in the Garden of Eden, and we’re taught that giving into temptation is wrong. Why then, does it always feel so good?

Growing up in a society where we’re subliminally (and often outwardly) taught that straight is right and gay is wrong, we know on a subconscious level that, that is who we are. So is it simply that, when the opportunity to rebel arises, we can’t help but give in because we know that adults aren’t always right? Or are we just a whore for a cheap thrill?

And when it comes to men, there’s no denying that we’re totally addicted to what’s forbidden. Whether it’s having a crush on your deputy editor after he takes you to a showcase, or craving your friend’s ex-boyfriend, (despite saying you’ll keep quiet), or simply just wanting a guy you know is bad for you. We’re all guilty at some stage or another.
And at some stages more than others…

When I was 17/18-years old I LOVED weekend get-aways, they were the perfect excuse for underwear as outerwear, knee high socks, glitter, one night stands, and drinking before double figures (that’s pre-10am). And the first Brighton pride I went to was no exception. Taking ‘skimpy’ to a whole new level, the girl boxers were out, despite the sun being in. I’d been on a liquid diet for eight days (how important Pride seems, when you’re young eh?) and looked more like a xylophone than a cutesie size zero.

After waking up next to one of my friends (“meh, we weren’t that close anyway” – Monica, Friends), and taking multiple ecstasy pills before trashing our hotel room and having meaningful conversations with a rolled up duvet, it was safe to say – I should’ve stopped there. But, at 18, and with no money left, I decided to stay one more night… (Obviously).

I’d been chatting to a guy on the internet for a while, and met up with him for a drink. He said he’d pay for me to stay another night. Great – I thought…
LATER. Who knew I was agreeing to one drink every hour and half?! If you’re gonna offer to cater to me to get me into bed, be prepared for me to drink a lot. Just saying. I personally, would rather stay in, than go out and hold back. So after the night out with Bore-Off Tight-Fist, he went downstairs for breakfast…

I’d thought his mate he was sharing the room with was quite hot since I’d met him. I’d already said thank you enough times to Cheap-Ass Dusty-Wallet for having me, but thought I’d say it once more to his roommate while he was grabbing a fry-up. Please, pull your minds from the gutter – I’m not that nasty to fuck his friend because he was tight with money. Although we did shake hands – among other things. Yes, it was totes wrong – but that’s my point…

Saying ‘no’ has always been hard for me, especially if it’s a question of going home. I’m perfectly capable of saying ‘no’ to sex, it’s just ten times harder if you’re not supposed to be having sex with that person, i.e. bosses, friend’s ex’s and as given, your date’s roommate. You soon learn that if you give in to every little temptation you have, chances are you’ll have very little friends left. Or morals. Or control over renal function. If you can say no to a spliff while you’re supposed to be working, (nope, me neither), you’ll be just fine…