Irish Women turn to porn


Irish women are above the global average for watching porn, according to the world’s largest porn site, Pornhub.

Irish women exceed the global use of the site by females. While 23pc of users globally are women, 25pc of women in Ireland use the site.

Women use porn for different reasons than men, said leading sexual health lecturer from DCU.

Pornhub, have released statistics which show that Irish women seem to enjoy their own company and mostly search for the ‘Lesbian’ category on the site.

“Women have needs, their emotions are different, so naturally they are going to engage with watching porn differently than men” said lecturer in Mental Health Nursing, Dr. Denise Proudfoot.


“I myself watch anything, I’ve gone on it many times and I often discuss watching porn with my female friends. We all do it” said 23-year-old student, Sandy.

The Breakdown

The 18-24 age group account for 31pc of Irish viewers and its women who actually spend longer time viewing porn than men.

On average women spend almost one minute, 48 seconds longer browsing and viewing the content of the site.

Porn over Love

A YouTube video ‘what is love’ received just under three thousand views.

Whereas, a video called ‘straight girls explain: Liking Lesbian Porn’ received 115, 983 views.

Dr. Proudfoot said she wasn’t at all surprised by this figure and said that the porn culture in which we live has caused “a broadening of curiosity and interest. People have greater expectations of sex because of this.”


Age is just a number

A recent study by Trinity College, Dublin, published in the Longitudinal Study on Aging looked at the sexual behaviours of the fifty years plus age bracket. It found that 60pc of this age group are having sex.

Of those who watch Pornhub 21pc are forty-five years or older.

Conversely, porn is also accessible by minors and is becoming more integrated into people’s daily lives whether male or female.

According to a study by the Institute of Public Policy Research in Britain, watching pornography is “common” by the time teenagers reach their mid-teens.


It also found that for teens, the internet ranks higher than parents as a source of information about sex and relationships.

The Irish in fact, rank 6th in the world per capital of page views. That’s 171 per person on the Island. The USA ranks first with 221.

It is everywhere and difficult to monitor said former Principal of Intermediate School, Killorgan. “Once your child has a smartphone, they have access to porn. You can put in the filters, but young people are very IT literate and can get around them,” stated Joe O’Dwyer.


At the end of last year Enda Kenny said “Our young people growing up imagining that what they see on the screen might be normal sexual behaviour there has to be a discussion about this in terms of families and children and the kind of society that is evolving.”

If the negative impacts of pornography are to be limited this needs to start with discussion.

“Sexual education must expand to more than just talking about the act of sex itself” said Dr. Proudfoot.

She said that it must encompass the way we are ‘doing sex’ and “talk about sex, relationships, STI’s, contraception, fertility and of course pornography and relationships”, she said.

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Master of your own destiny?: Anti-Depressants, Anxiety and a Masters


Ok, no this isn’t going to be one of those cheesy ‘be positive’/ ‘the world is your oyster’ pep talk articles.

It could quite possibly be just the opposite. (I don’t know yet either – we’ll see by the end).

I’m currently studying my Masters in Journalism (don’t hate on me or I’ll clearly write about you when I’m the star of some well known Irish/international paper and your life will be ruined).

A Masters, great, right?

What’s not to love? Going back to education after a year of travelling and being in a proper job gives you such freedom!

The money you were earning before giving up your job to study intensely doesn’t matter when you’re getting to use all this fabulous software and equipment and great books for free (by free I mean 8.5k in registration fees – yes, for 1 whole year!).

Of course, there’s also the fact that you can’t make any plans on Monday’s because you more than likely will get a 15pc piece slapped onto you on Monday to have done by midnight that night. How truly refreshing it is that someone else is taking the wheel and there is finally an event you don’t have to plan every detail of yourself!

Charming little things – Masters programmes.

I started in September 2016 and will be finished at the end of August this year.

Since this time I’ve been absolutely miserable. I’ve been withdrawing from people, hating the thought of socialising with my classmates who are all lovely, fabulous and genuine people, and even dreading going into my kitchen for fear I would bump into my housemates (also lovely, fab, genuine people).

Don’t get me wrong I believe strongly that education is the way to success, both personally and work wise. But, what if the timing isn’t right.

When you come from getting a 70 in your dissertation and a 72 in your teaching placement in the final year of your degree to questioning what am I doing here? Is it really the education I can’t master or myself? (pun  intended).

It has been the loneliest few months of my life. I wasn’t even lonely when I was a singleton.

I’ve cried myself to sleep, cried myself awake and cried silently in the middle of a lecture and even while walking through a car park, for no reason at all.

I went to the college counsellor and after a few sessions, I went to my family doctor.

The result? Anti-depressants.

I was shocked and not, at the same time. ‘How could I be so weak?’ I asked myself. I have been through a lot in my life, much more difficult and upsetting and never have I found myself as low as this point.

But I suppose, Rome wasn’t built in a day and depression can be caused by a build up of things and then one day it raises its head large and fast.

For me it feels like you’re drained. Everything is meaningless. Everything gets questioned (a million times over). The smallest of tasks become HUGE.

You go to bed feeling sad, and hope you will wake up feeling better – but again you wake up sad.

I think this is why I found it so difficult to interact with my classmates. I’m normally so bubbly and outgoing and would talk to any strangers but when I couldn’t be this – when I couldn’t be me – I just drew back.

If they couldn’t get to know me as I always was I didn’t want their impression to be someone I wasn’t. (Even though I actually am this person as it’s still part of me – but hey, whatever).

I took the first anti-depressant not knowing what to expect. I felt like vomiting and about an hour later I was so drowsy I had to go to bed.

I’m normally one of those people who can sleep anytime or anywhere (bus, train you name it). However, that night I wasn’t able to fall asleep within five minutes but was tossing and turning all night.

This continued happening.

The tablets really helped and rather than crying every day, it was only on one day about two weeks later that I got upset.

Fast forward a week or two; I went to Edinburgh and because I was drinking the whole weekend decided not to take them (irresponsibility alert). Then I came home for Christmas, my favourite time of year and I haven’t taken them since.

Last night when I was due to go back to Dublin was the first time that I got upset and down since that December night.

I’m thinking how do I do these two projects that I got an extension on before the second-semester starts, do I want to go back, can I commute to Dublin instead, how do I fill out this internship application with no journalist-relevant experience whatsoever and do I link them this blog and if I do will they see a depressed, arthritic 22-year-old, who hasn’t posted on her blog in three months, and not hire me.

It’s a strange thing. You can smile and giggle but inside you’re so unhappy, so scared, panicked,  worried.

Your mind is a rollercoaster, it’s a though a film is constantly playing out in your head. You’re never in the present. Your mind is running and creating all these situations which could or might happen (usually negative) but which probably won’t.

And the shortness of breath and thumping heart you get when extreme panic sets in can be frightening.

Can I master my masters? I don’t know. But I do feel that I can master my own life and destiny.

What counts is being open and able to talk about things even if you may not like these things. I’m sure you’re reading this thinking about your own situation or a friend or family members situation.

I am not unique in how I feel. I just happen to have decided to write about it.


Am I depressed? I don’t know. Am I stressed and overwhelmed and not being my determined, resilient self? Definitely.

I know that timing is everything and if I can’t finish it presently so be it – my decision won’t be influenced by “sure you’re half way there” because reaching this point felt like a never-ending battle and going into a more intense term seems like a million miles more.

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Whinge of the Week: electronic-mail or evil-mail?

E-mails. Electronic forms of post designed to speed up the passing on and reply of information right?

These nifty little things made the world of communication a much smaller and easier place.

Why then does it take someone two weeks to reply to one?

Not even that, but the response only comes after a ‘gentle’ reminder to someone, by phone, to look at your bloody emails!

We’re not talking about little generic emails, like, I can’t make this appointment. I don’t expect an instant reply.

I’m talking about emails to professionals. If you have your own listed email address and are representing a company and someone is trying to enlist you to HELP the promotion of your company’s aims and achievements – then use that email and respond!

If I didn’t want a reply I would have wrote a creepy poem and sent it to someone on Tinder.

That is all.

Whinge of the week over!


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Single no more: A year in a relationship


I remember this time last year. We had just come from calling into one of our friends from work.

I went to the toilet and when I came back the two boys seemed off. I sensed something was wrong – they were acting funny.

We left our friend and I followed him into the car. The atmosphere was tense and our usual, nonstop conversation had faded into complete silence.

Ok, so just to put this into context for you. I had been seeing this guy for a while now. I was actually genuinely interested in him and the thought of this FREAKED ME OUT!

I am a typical case of always the bridesmaid, never the bride.


Not the usual ‘oh the poor girl’. I just genuinely had no interest in anyone. Sure, there were times where I would fantasize about the IDEA of having a male companion in my life but I knew waking up in the morning having to think of all the worries of another person, wasn’t for me.

Plus, listening to your friends talking about fights with their partners really didn’t help to convince me otherwise.


Anyway, despite various guys showing interest (not in an arrogant way), I always found the more and more they liked me, told me they liked me or treated me so well, the more I got absolutely repulsed.

I couldn’t stand to be around these guys so as usual I would finish things with them. My inability to accept someone’s kindness and affection really got me down at times.

I could never break the spell – until – ‘him’.

As we drove in silence in his car my heart beat faster. A million things were running through my mind. What did I do, did I say something, when did he start feeling this way?

His car came to a halt outside my house.

This is goodbye I thought. Gearing up for the worst, because I never was one of those needy girls who expected anything more from a guy than a brief encounter.

I plucked up the courage to speak. ‘Just say it, just tell me’.

He was so nervous. He could barely speak. I just wanted him to tell me we were over so I could get this wax-strip-like sensation over with.

‘Will you go out with me?’ (Whaaaaaaaat?) I couldn’t believe it.


Fast forwarding through the details, I said yes. Me! The wild, eternally single one, Ms. Independent, the one who hated cuddles and who “would get a boyfriend when pigs fly”, was now somebody’s girlfriend.

For some people this is not a big deal. They pop in and out of a relationship as though they’re popping into Dealz for a multi-pack of Twix.

However, for me it was. I could never allow myself to commit to someone unless I felt it would be something worth investing time in.

We first met in work. I had just come back from the Summer of a lifetime living and working in New York, having a whirlwind romance with a chef/music producer and traveling the USA.

We had a one-night-encounter (we’ll call it) and I never expected it to lead to a single thing more. But, wonderfully, it did!

A year later I can say that it has been one of the best years of my life. We have been on holidays together, nights away, family gatherings as well as just lounged on the couch.

I am by no means preaching, I know singletons hate reading this crap (I used to!). But it’s not as annoying as all the pervy men saying they don’t believe that you are single because you’re so good looking, or your friends obsession with your single status and constantly finding someone they know who ‘you would love’.

I’ve left that life in the past but since meeting him I have never changed my strong minded, free spirit, nor has he ever expected me to.

We can completely be who we are with one another. I can fight with my sister, he can use the toilet with the door open (sorry hunzo :P), he can do cringy things for me without letting the lads slagging bother him, we can talk about the fact we have had a threesome – just not with each other – and can unite as a team to rob a slice of cake from a cafe, all without the other caring or being embarrassed.


Its been a year of space cakes in Amsterdam, champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower, Wicked at the West End, some arguments, some tears and lots of changes.

Despite my hatred for the cars he drives, my love to stand behind doors, or cars (or anything at all really) and frighten him and having often different views on life or where we want to be, behind all that is an open and honest friendship.

Nothing is certain, clearly! as Mr. Trump has just been elected President of America today (thanks for ruining our anniversary, Donald!) but I’ve enjoyed learning to love and be loved by a great man (tall, dark and handsome too :P) and having lots of fun along the way.

Happy anniversary to ‘him’ and I.

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‘Bye Bye Blondie’. What really sparked my identity change

Our hair goes through a lot. It gets longer, it gets chopped off, it fades, it gets lighter, your sister pulls it out… The list is endless.

We dye our hair for many reasons, to fit in, to stand out, to cover those grey hairs. Everyone has different motives.

Hair is something to have fun with. That’s what I used to think!

I have been dying my hair for years. I’ve been a rainbow of colours, from pink to red, to black and back again. Just not all at one time.


So this one may have been a wig, but I’ve still been on the red side.

For me it was one big game of dress up. I would think to myself, what will I change this week, who will I be?

My mother all the while, pleading with me to stop ‘hiding’ who I was or running from myself by constantly trying to alter my appearance (a diverse and varied one at that).


I felt like the invincible Ms Elle Woods before.

I dyed my hair about two months ago. Waving goodbye to the blonde and a timid ‘hi’ to the brunette world.

What would usually be an exciting time for me, wasn’t a choice.

From about February on, I noticed my hair rapidly getting dryer and dryer. All the avocado hair masks in the world wouldn’t make it improve.

This wasn’t helped by family members as well as work colleagues commenting on how dry and bush-like it looked.

So after taking the plunge in August I was ready for silky, long locks. No more chemicals in my hair.

But, this didn’t happen.

What did happen was hair loss.

The shower was when I really noticed it. Hair would be on the walls, on the ground, in my hands as I ran them through my hair to rinse out the shampoo.

I questioned this.When did this start happening? What is causing my hair to get worse after I had stopped dying it and stopped straightening it?

February did I say? Yes, February!

This was the exact time I started taking prescribed injections.

Once every two weeks, I began to inject myself. Right thy, left thy, stomach – rotating from one to the other each time.


“Once every two weeks, I began to inject myself”

Having been diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis at the age of 17 (after numerous x-rays, various trips to Dublin and Galway to see consultants and many blood tests) I could no longer ignore the condition which I had for five years, which I chose to deny existed.

I decided I had enough ‘flare ups’ which, when they happened, would cause me not to be able to walk, would take me ten to fifteen minutes to turn over on my side in bed at night.

I often would drag myself across the floor to move, while at the same time crying at my reality. I couldn’t even lift a cup – I felt trapped inside a body that shouldn’t belong to a twenty-two-year-old.

The agony, swelling and permanent damage to my joints over the five years became too much, so in February 2016, just after my twenty-second birthday I took the medical route and started prescribed injections.

These injections would not cure my arthritis (I wish) but would prevent the symptoms which the degenerative disease caused.

In doing so the drug which radically lowers the immune system just so happened to cause me to have recurrent kidney infections and oh yes, to lose at lot of my hair.

What is tough as a woman is feeling so conscious of something so visible. Whether it is tied up or down it’s thin and dead and even a blow-dry in the hairdressers doesn’t leave my hair shiny and feeling like new anymore.

I want to be blonde and say ‘bye bye brunette’ but having that choice taken away from me (hairdressers won’t dye it because “it would ALL fall out”) isn’t fun. Nor is having either straw for hair or sticks for bones.

So now the question I face is, do I stop taking the medication which will probably result in great pain and damage to my joints or do I keep putting a factory-made chemical into my body. One which is causing hair loss on the outside but what then, on the inside of my body?

The decision I do not know but either one seems to be a ‘lesser of two evils’ choice.

I think I’ll definitely be wearing a wig this Halloween!

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Uncharted Territory!!

So…. a blog?? Aggggh.. I know, I can’t believe I’m writing this and I’m sure those of you who know me can’t believe that you are reading this. It has been in my head for a few years now that I really wanted to set up a blog and I did attempt it – numerous times in fact – but every time there were obstacles. Sites were asking me for money, there were awkward methods of actually setting up the layout of the blog (well this one wasn’t easy either) and then when I thought it would be easier to just write articles for an online blog that was already set up they would ask me to submit a piece of writing but it would take them so long to respond that I wouldn’t even submit a piece.

But ALAS, here I am (finally) in the blogging world. I feel like one of those girls on TV you see blogging or Bridget Jones writing in her diary (well a kind of an online diary). What I mean to say is that I am so unaccustomed to the world of blogging (its actually quite intimidating)… (oh look I am those girls blogging on TV, like in ‘Unfabulous’ – the TV show with Emma Robberts in it -with my little bracketed off thoughts). So anyway, I’ve wanted to make this happen for so long now that even if this is all that I write, I’ll be happy. I have plenty of interests and plenty of opinions too which through my love of writing, I hope to write about issues relevant to you the readers.

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