I have always been the kind of girl who would put out. What? I’m serious! Don’t judge me for telling the truth. There were times when I would come home from da clerrrb ‘empty handed’, so to speak, and feel like I had failed somehow. I mean, I must have failed when you consider that all anybody had to do was buy me a drink and compliment my outfit. And if their shoes weren’t bad and they had game on the dancefloor then I would have been taking them back to where the magic happens.

I love a good one-night stand. Emphasis on good because how good are they ever, really? When I think back it’s all a repressed blur but there are few nights that shine bright like a diamond and that is because the stars were aligned – Mercury was not in retrograde. I was waxed, living fast and just a bad girl doing it well. The men were vapid but hot and I was all on their mouth like liquor. These are memories that I now keep in a little box in my mind that I open from time to time when I need some inspiration.

Then, there were the not so good times. The times where I was looking for sex for validation, because my self-esteem was in the same toilet where I had just smashed some lines of whatever I could get my hands on. The dudes I would hook up with during this (not ideal) scenario were questionable to say the least. It is times like this when you become susceptible to the advances of creeps. There will always be creeps, just like there will always be bad weather. You just have to make sure the house you are living in is strong enough to withstand the storm. There is a difference between being horny and happy and craving the intimacy of a warm body and settling for whatever or whomever decides to stroll your way because you are feeling starved of attention. It is very difficult to see the wood for the penis when you are in these circumstances.

I know I am starting to sound like I am some reformed sex addict and maybe that is not too far from the truth – but the actual truth is that I love having sex just as much as the next person and even right now I would kill for a bit of a roll in the hay. Even just a dry hump wouldn’t hurt. I had a half-baked attempt at a one-nighter about a month ago after being off my game for quite some time, and, quite frankly, it was pretty beige. Well, I’ll just be honest with you: he was wearing a Bruce Springsteen t-shirt that wasn’t merch – he had it made. I like The Boss as much as the next person but I can’t deal with unironic sentiments. I don’t even own so much as a Beyoncé mug for God’s sake.

It is inevitable that as one gets older one might become a little happier in their skin. This helps with the whole ‘sleeping with undesirables’ thing and making better choices as far as that goes. But now as the sound of the clock ticking goes up a few decibels and you realise that ‘Oh shit, I didn’t make the 27 club! I had better actually get my shit together,’ I have realised that all the validation is right where I left it: in my mind next to the box of filthy dirty thoughts.

Wear a condom!