Sex, Risk, and the Questions Nobody Asks

I was having a conversation with a friend recently about Michael Olise, the French international footballer. He's 24 now, has a 20-month-old child with a woman who is 34. They were together for two years, split up, and she discovered the pregnancy two weeks after they ended things. Now she's fighting for child support.

My friend was annoyed with Olise. She said he should take responsibility, he should pay. But then she went further. She said this happens quite often, especially with Black men and that they have children and don't stick around.

I found that statement offensive and surprising. The majority of Black men I know who have children are there for their children. They're living with them, involved in their lives. It's the minority who aren't in contact, and we need to ask why and how socioeconomic and historic trauma contributes to this. I'm not making excuses, just digging a little deeper than some may be willing to do. By the way, the same applies to the non-Black men I know — mostly good men who look after their children, regardless of being with the mother or not. It's not a race pattern. It's a human one.

But then I called out something else. Do the maths. If they were together for two years and she's 34 now, they met when she was about 30 and he was about 20. He was playing for Crystal Palace in the Premier League at 20 years old. That's a spotlight. That's wealth, status, a target on his back. She was a full decade older.

I'm not age-shaming anyone. People date who they want. But that ten-year gap, at 20 and 30 years old, is too wide in my opinion, regardless of which gender is older. Had they been 30 and 40, that gap would be fine. In this situation with a 30 and 20 year old, the person who's older should have demonstrated a higher level of maturity. They should understand the consequences before they act. And in this situation, she's the one who carries the biological reality. Women carry babies. Men don't. Women are often left with the raising of the child, whether the man stays or walks. So her responsibility to think clearly before acting was even greater.

My friend got very irate. She said we don't hold men responsible, that we allow them to do whatever they want.

Here's what I want to propose: before you have sex with anyone, you need to ask yourself two questions.

The first is: what is the worst that can happen?

The worst case is pregnancy, an STI, or in some situations, an accusation of rape. Those are genuine consequences.

The second question is: what is the likelihood of that happening?

If you've just met someone, if it's a one-night stand, the likelihood of pregnancy or an STI is much higher than if you're in a committed relationship with someone you know. The likelihood of a false accusation when you barely know the person is also significant. And if you're a famous athlete, an actor, a man of means — understand this: some women target men like you. They see you as an opportunity. That's not an excuse for anyone's behaviour. It's information you need before you act. You have a target on your back, and you need to know it.

It's a simple mental check: worst case plus likelihood equals the risk I'm about to take.

If you do that check before you act, a lot of things change.

Regarding Olise and his lady (whose name is not being dragged), only they know what really happened between them. He was 20, famous athlete, targeted, with a woman ten years his senior, maybe more mature and calculated. Now he's potentially financially bound to a child. That's the consequence, and he's trapped.

Michael Ward had the same problem. He's an actor, recognisable on television. He met a woman in a club one evening, went outside with her, and they were intimate. Then she accused him of rape. He was arrested, later exonerated, but his reputation was damaged and his life was disrupted. If he'd asked "what's the worst case here?" when he met a stranger in a club, he would have known the answer. Famous man, stranger, alcohol, outside. Both worst case and likelihood are obvious. He should have known better.

Both men ended up trapped in circumstances they didn't think through beforehand. So did the women — one with a child and the financial and emotional burden that follows, the other with an accusation that will shape how people see her. None of them thought it through.

The thing about frameworks like this is that they work because they're rational, not moral. You're not judging yourself or anyone else. You're not saying "men are bad" or "women are bad." You're saying: this is the risk. Can I live with the outcome if it happens?

And here's what matters: when we don't use a framework like this, we fill in the blanks with emotion and bias. We see patterns that confirm what we already believe. My friend saw Olise's situation and saw evidence of a broader pattern about Black men. But she was interpreting a single case through a lens that was already set. We all do this. We see situations and we find the evidence that backs up what we already think.

A clear thinking tool cuts through that. It doesn't matter what you believe about men or women or race or anything else. The question stays the same: worst case, likelihood, can you live with it? That's it.

Responsibility isn't about blame. It's about thinking before you act. It's about knowing what you're risking and deciding anyway — not stumbling into it and spending the next twenty years dealing with the fallout.

But here's what matters most. There's a child now. A 20-month-old who didn't choose this. Who didn't make the decision. Who will spend years in a fragmented situation because two adults didn't ask themselves two questions before they acted. The child carries the weight of their thoughtlessness. Too often, that's the consequence we don't mention. Too often, it comes last, after the financial negotiations and the legal disputes and the resentment. But it shouldn't be secondary. It should be central.

So before you find yourself in someone else's life, trapped in a consequence you didn't fully think through, ask yourself the questions. What's the worst that can happen? What's the likelihood? Can you live with the outcome if it happens? And if a child is possible, can you live with what that means for them?

That's what I wanted to say.