Bear with me, folks. I’ve been a little off the radar since my spare bedroom swallowed me up so that I could finish writing my long-term uber romantic drama love story project hoo-ha, of which, STILL, is not complete. However, I did manage to turn on the television and the laptop in time to surf the news, only to see this crazy plethora of stories involving sexual harassment.

All I can say is, in the most eloquent of ways…DAFUQ?

Now, before you fear an imminent ramble or opinion-bashing, well, rest your weary selves. I’ve had far too much Prosecco to think straight. In fact, if this article sounds anywhere near coherent by the time I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be pretty impressed. But that’s not why I’m writing this. Although it would be fun to relish in my random warbling come the sober daylight, my main aim of this piece is to share the hashtag #MeToo, which has come about post some very upsetting allegations.

True, false, fabricated, more to it than what we know – whatever the case may be, I am sure that I’m not the only one of many females (and males) who have been subjected to some form of unwanted sexual attention.

You may wonder why I’m drinking, for instance. Also – to those of you who know me well – as to why I decided to chop off 10 inches worth of my tresses. Well, neither of these behaviours are like me, they’re far more dramatic than my usual states. More often than not, you’ll see me with a cup of tea in my hand, rather than a glass of vino (you’ll be pleased to know I’ve made myself a little chamomile and lavender blend now though, so hopefully I’ll soon fall asleep at the keyboard and stop wittering). But the reason for some of these things is because I’ve reached the end of my emotional tether, and I’m not afraid to admit it. We’re all human, and there are cause and effect notions that occur within all of our lives. Sometimes we’re okay when things get really dire, and other times, it only takes the smallest thing and we crack.

So this is me, not cracking, but kind of zoning out from current issues that are annoying me. Which brings me back to this whole Harvey Weinstein, #MeToo, overly sexualised culture that we now find ourselves lurking within.

I mean, who said romance was dead when we are now so cyberly awakened to porn, dick pics and filthy material at our fingertips? It’s like we cut out the middle man to love and just shoved him in bondage gear, leading the way to an evening of unwanted debauchery. GUESS WHAT, FOLKS – not everyone likes that stuff! (I’m tempted to swear, but let’s try and keep this topic as clean as possible…)

Only this year I have been subjected to being groped in public, sent vile videos, unwanted images and being treated like I am a form of sexual soundboard to some people’s manky desires. I’m hardly some irrepressible sex goddess, nor do I invite such behaviour. But this week’s news has got me thinking. Maybe it’s not me that is being disrespected. Maybe it’s just that they don’t know or care to know who I am on a personal level because those who subject me to such grimness are now programmed to think this kind of thing is okay? Maybe that’s because other people are okay with it. Maybe it’s because they’ve seen it in the movies, or on Tinder – I haven’t a clue! But I’ve wracked my brains, chopped off my locks in order to create a less “sexy” image and renowned myself as the “Ice Queen” just so that any person who does approach me won’t even try it on because I simply can’t take it anymore.

It’s sad. Because if/when I do meet somebody I actually like, I’ll be too scared to admit it. I’ll be too frightened to let on that I think that they’re lovely, just in case they’re another player or pervert, or that they’ll start sending me rubbish that stops me sleeping at night.

So, here I am, sitting at my desk in my dressing gown – the only thing that I’ll allow to keep me warm and hold me close – because I know that it won’t hurt me.

I know I’m not the only one and that my situation is not the worst by any means, and that maybe some people will find this whole thing a taboo subject that needs to be kept out of our generation’s sights, but this is important! Because if I feel like this after something so small on the scale of harassment, then how do others who have been objectified to a higher degree feel?

Stop sexualising everything, start loving one another and share #MeToo, if you have ever felt this way, or simply believe that we need to change our way of thinking.

I do.