Last month, my mum told me about a show she was loving, called Bridgerton (you've potentially heard of it). I looked it up and scoffed at the idea of watching a 'regency drama'.
"How BORING", I thought to myself, "as if I want to watch some poncy fools gallop around on a horse and use 'thus' in a sentence". But after I saw a few more people on social media share memes about it, I thought I better at least TRY the first episode.
I asked my husband Luke if he fancied watching it with me, and retrospectively, I am SO glad he declined and went to bed. It turned out this was a show I needed to watch solo.
After a mere few minutes, I was hooked. Indeed, there was a poncy chap on a horse using 'thus'; but he was also slamming his shlong into his secret lover behind a tree.
There were bare buttocks involved, and I was LIVING for it. I was a woman obsessed, and stayed up past my bedtime, eager for episode five and six, when things apparently got 'steamy'.
If you haven't seen Bridgerton, here's the trailer. Post continues below.
The build-up alone did me over a bit, I turned into a horny teenager, irrationally angry that I couldn't have The Duke. I was listening to the soundtrack (FYI it really is excellent) on repeat and suggesting 'regency themed' parties to friends.
But episode five was when I first started to unravel.
Luke didn't 'burn for me' on our wedding night!? There were definitely no gentle gasps of pleasure as he gently entered me for the first time as husband and wife. Instead, we banged in my family home, and I had absolutely no recollection of it thanks to a particularly large goblet I insisted on repeatedly guzzling from throughout the celebration.
When Luke and I got married, we'd already been together for a few years, and had been living together for a lot of that time. So, like most couples, we'd been enjoying 'dinky-tickling' for a long time before saying 'I do'.