Sex and the Steel City March by Kate Hobson

It's complicated by Kate Hobson

Man, I Feel Like A Woman

Sometimes I feel as though I react like a typical man.

Which is no mean feat, you understand, as I am, in fact, a woman. But whereas many men find themselves being hounded by desperate women begging for commitment, in my case I find the tables turn, leaving myself running away from relationship-hungry males.

On countless occasions I’ve been the one dodging texts and calls, tactfully changing the subject whenever the suggestion of embarking on a more permanent relationship comes up. As far as I’m concerned, why fix something when it ain’t broke? There we were, happily sailing along in a commitment-free, harmless bit of fun when – boom. ‘Shall we make this official?’ Those words are, in essence, the death certificate for any budding romance in my eyes. Call me a commitment phobe, but I much prefer to be simply ‘seeing’ someone.

Unfortunately, this need for an escape route leads to many broken hearts along the way; the cliché of ‘playing hard to get’ does truly work, it seems; whilst I remain enjoying yet separate to any relationship the other half seems to be helpless in falling for my unintentional charms. Cue tears and tantrums aplenty when I get bored. Sorry boys, but I need a real man and, as they say, if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.

One Night Stands by Kate Hobson

The whim of a singleton and the result of a booze-fuelled night on the tiles.

Faced with the never-ending ocean of unfamiliar (and more often than not satisfyingly attractive) faces, as a new student in the age of free love you're put under the impression that one night stands are the norm; the more fellow students you ensare in your trap the better.

However the impression you make in Freshers Week is, more often that not, the impression that sticks throughout your entire University stay. Forever finding a different bedraggled girl wandering the corridor at 8am having been kicked out from your flatmate's bed? Discover various bashful guys shuffling into the bathroom every morning? Yep, they're the results of your friskiest flatmates' most recent nights out.

The positive of one night stands? (Almost) guaranteed action with no annoying relationship headache. The negatives? The attached stigma (see above), the knowledge you've been used and abused (or the user and abusers), the chance that your no-strings-attached fumble may have been interpreted as true love and near enough marriage proposal, the threat of a nasty STI lurking under the covers. And who could forget the legendary walk of shame?

Then there's the awkward morning situation. Beer goggles are a wicked vice and waking up to something not even vaguely resembling what you went to sleep with is a scary prospect. Should you stay for/ offer breakfast? Are you obliged to send a follow-up text or see them again? Should you offer to pay their bus fare home? Ah – the everlasting conundrums of student life.

Freshers by Kate Hobson

Ah – Freshers Week. The youths are released from the constraints of Mum and Dad for seven days of unashamed debauchery resulting in future-forming friendships.

A world away from the limited, outgrown environment of home, University presents a unique and spectacular sea of talent. Why people even bother to stay in a relationship when they come here is thus beyond me.

Who wants to have that niggling reminder at the back of their brain that they shouldn't really be flirting with the pleasantly attractive boy from Flat F213? Who wants an annoyingly pathetic boyfriend on the phone at 2am moaning that they haven't called him?
Who wants to have to travel home every weekend to satisfy the insecurities of their other half? The answer is, of course, no one in their right mind.

It never fails – you stumble into your new kitchen, struggling with an overflowing box of pots and pans, clatter over to the cupboard, brush the sweaty locks of hair out of your eyes and - come face to face with a shatteringly appealing new flatmate. Or, at least, someone vaguely attractive who immediately eradicates any lingering devotion to anyone left back home. And thus begins the inescapable dilemma of 'should I, shouldn't I?'

Drunken fumbles are all well and good when you'll never see the person in question again but when you'll be sharing a fridge with them for the rest of the year it's a different story. If from fear of unavoidable awkwardness further down the tenancy agreement- long line you choose to resist the urge to burst in the bathroom to 'accidentally' catch said hottie in the nude, then wave goodbye to sloppy pyjama days and makeup-free slumps and hello to hours spent in the kitchen waiting to 'bump' into your prey.

On the other hand, who said showers were made for one…?

Holidays by Kate Hobson

The normal world of sex and relationships is left far behind back on the plane once summer comes along. Different country = different rules.

I for one near enough agree with this holiday mantra – why not use your break in the sun to completely escape normal life? No one need ever know – just as long as there's no photographic Facebook evidence and you can trust your mates not to tell, of course. And there's always that six degrees of separation thing: your holiday romance's mate went to school with someone's cousin who used to work for a guy whose dad went out with your girlfriend's dog groomer's stepdaughter… Busted. I'm not completely condoning cheating, you understand, obviously if you're in a fully committed relationship with marriage on the horizon then be good girls and boys, but otherwise…?

Whereas you might keep embarrassingly drunken sexual encounters to a minimum back home, decorum becomes an afterthought on holiday. I myself am not a follower of this trend; never will you find me in a sweaty mess slumped by the pool after a boozy night on the strip. It always pays to be a classy bird as far as I'm concerned.

My thoughts on holiday romances? Dreams of sweaty romps with a native Latino lover are, in reality, a regular hook up with a lanky lad from Brighton but, if you're lucky, you could catch a sunkissed hottie. One must bear in mind, however, that a week-long romance will most probably not blossom into a full blown relationship once back home. A few texts filled with promises of meeting up and a new Facebook friend will be the extent of your liaison. Once that realisation is established, a holiday fling can be an exciting prospect.

So tie up your bikini, pack yourself into a pair of Speedos, whip out the shades and get yourself on a plane to fun in the sun.

Facebook by Kate Hobson

Imagine a world without Facebook. What a desperate, lonely existence that would be – no half-hourly status updates from the chav queen back home, no means of discovering the satisfying fact that your first kiss is now going bald and engaged to a 34 year old (true story), no embarrassing photos from that wish-you-could-forget messy night.

But from a dating point of view, Facebook has become an indispensable and unavoidable factor to all relationships. The 'relationship status' is the gospel truth as to one's current romantic position; relationships only become official once Facebook has been updated. The shock of seeing, "… is now listed as single", causes us to frantically text our friend to relay this disturbing piece of gossip; engagements are announced; the availability of a prospective love interest is met with disappointment or intrigue.

The 'stalkability' of Facebook certainly has its downfalls, however. Insecure, jealous girlfriends keep an eagle eye on their boyfriend's profile 24 hours a day – I myself have fallen victim to an irate message demanding why I have added their boyfriend (for the record, he added me and I've never even spoken to him. Chill.) The realisation that one's password has been uncovered fills many naughty boys with panic – those private messages can be undeniably incriminating. Ouch.

My inbox is filled with retarded randoms trying their luck – like I'm going to reply to a message consisting of, "Hi sexy, how are you?", as well as messages from exes wanting to meet up – I broke up with you FIVE YEARS ago – GET OVER IT. Facebook chat is an annoying means of communication; as a rule, I'm permanently offline, for the simple reason that if I do happen to log on I become inundated with cheesy blokes trying their luck. And no, I'm not going to give you my number just because you type sweet nothings about how fit I look in my pictures and how much I've changed since school. (Compliment or not…?) Piss off back to the sad little cave you crawled out of.

Single Student by Kate Hobson

You may be under the impression that life as a (sexy) single student is one of drunken shenanigans and more bedtime visitors than taxis on a Saturday night West Street; nights out focused entirely on the aim to pull whichever male specimen is foolish enough to step in the way. The reality (for this girl, anyway) is, in fact, a very different affair.

Never will you find me hanging off the arm of a grinning gorm as we stumble back to his. The words 'one night stand' aren't even in my vocabulary. I would be the first to admit that I have rather high standards when it comes to men – why settle for the lower branches when you can have the leaves at the top of the tree?

On a night out in town, the parameters of normal social respect seem to vanish the moment you step out of the taxi; those desperate, high on alcohol-induced bravery guys. When in normal, daylight life would it be acceptable to slap a girl's arse as you pass in the street? Where, exactly, would it be accepted social conduct to ask a girl to "get her rat out"? But it's not just the boys - my attitude towards the male gender (most probably due to the pervy abuse I constantly receive) changes to total bitch as soon as I hit the bars.

A harmless (yet pervy), "Alright love?", receives a dirty glare as I push past to get to the toilets; a tap on the bum produces a rough grab of the hand, thrusted back to its owner, a "Hey sexy…", at the bar is completely ignored. But it's the, "I'm God's gift to women and don't I know it?", cocky guys who try and fail spectacularly that really get me angry. I either find myself being shockingly rude to them, or even sometimes leading them on then shooting them down… thinking about it now I feel slightly sorry for them but – if you're after yet another immature girl to worship the ground you walk on then you're definitely not going to find it here. Grow some balls, boys; it's a ruthless, cut-throat world out there. Deal with it.

Introduction by Kate Hobson

At the risk of disappointing those readers who thought this column would be all about the wild bed hoppings of a sex-crazed slutbag, I must first clarify that this is not the Student Karma Sutra. Life as a (sexy) single student in Sheffield gives me plenty to fill this column with, giving you nosey readers an insight into the life of a student girl about town.

My tastes of relationships in the past have not given me much to savour; in a word, mind numbingly boring. The drone and monotony of seeing the same person every single day does nothing for the loving feeling in my opinion. I see my friends still in the same relationship they were in at school and think; "are they honestly happy with that same guy? Or do they just think they are as they've not tried anyone else?" A shiver actually runs down my spine when I think of being stuck in a relationship. Urgh.

And for some reason, the kind of guys one finds oneself edging towards the relationship border with are, upsettingly, always those wet sort of guys who almost stumble over themselves to get to that bridge you've just politely asked them to jump off. I've tried to be satisfied with this, I really have (as it's no doubt more sensible) but come ON. Give a girl some excitement. Yawn.

Thus my thirst for stimulation drives me to seek out those members of the male species with a bit of life within them… always providing some light-hearted entertainment for you, Reader, and undoubtedly resulting in a few casualties
along the way. Oops, sorry boys…