"She read your fun quiz," read the text appearing in my chat box window. "And her comment was 'lots of style but no class'".
Which tickled me, as that is typical of sex blogger double standards.
Selecting a dozen sex blogs at random, to assess their classiness, I attempted to try to get this "class" issue straight in my own mind. After all, much like the sex bloggers, I tend to write about the various twats and cunts I have encountered. What's the difference?
It would appear that it is ok to write about people you have sex with, often without their knowledge or permission, and give away the most intimate details of their anatomy, preferences, skill, quirks, kinks, passions and private life.
To post pictures of your own orifices stuffed with household items is both interesting and informative. It's sexually empowering or something. Posting pictures of other people's naughty bits proves you are a sex deity and is to be encouraged.
Lurid descriptions of your sweaty body, spunk-spiked hair, soggy undies and gushing bodily fluids just exude class. Boastful write-ups of adultery, glorifying the lover and vilifying the spouse, gilding and glossing until one can barely recognise the tawdry tumble in a Travelodge it truly was, these are more than acceptable, these are award winning.
But to write about what one finds annoying or silly, and why, that lacks class.
So, if I write about what I find silly or annoying but added that by doing so it made me come and then posted a pic of a courgette up my ringpiece, would I gain that unique brand of sex blogger classiness? Or would it still take the edge off the mindless wanking by adding an undesirable element of reality and thought, thereby forever to remain in the virtual gutter, sullying your monitor with its hurtful truths?