First, let’s address the elephant in the room: what was set to be the summer of roaring, unadulterated fun, may have actually left most people feeling burnt out, stressed and, to be completely honest, a little over sex and dating altogether.

Research from sex toy brand Lelo recently confirmed that the coronavirus pandemic sparked a ‘sexodus’. Their survey had 4,000 respondents, nearly half of whom (45%) admitted to having less sex than they might have had pre-pandemic. Maybe it was being in and out of lockdowns, maybe it is the fact that the world seems to be slowly ending around us; whatever the reason, it seems that people are having much less sex than they anticipated post-pandemic, myself included.

TV shows led me to believe there would be plenty of eligible bachelors to choose from at a variety of bars on a Friday night; instead, our new and far pickier selection processes mean that we’re developing the ick before potential partners have even asked us about our chosen vocation. According to a 2021 study, those between the ages of 18 and 23 reportedly have 14% less casual sex than young adults 10 years ago.

Living alone à la Carrie Bradshaw and having as much sex as I wanted was the dream I thought I would live out in my 20s. I felt fiercely independent and as though I had my life (somewhat) together, despite the fact that I only owned 2% of my furniture (the rest was the landlord’s) and I might have been kicked out at any moment for not paying the rent on time. There was nothing my little studio flat and I couldn’t conquer, be that pissing off my neighbours while dancing alone to Luther Vandross into the wee hours, inviting men home post-date just because I could or crying loudly in the bathroom shower; together we were ‘adulting’ – my apartment and I. That was until the pandemic hit, when using my space as my solitude from other human beings became a requirement rather than a choice.

OK, but how much sex is everyone really having in 2022?