Warning: Graphic content
There's a lipstick stain on the wall above my bedhead.
I tell people it's a discolouration in the paint, because I'm too embarrassed to admit how it got there: from the worst sex of my life.
I'd had high hopes for Will, the 20-something backpacker with a bumbling British accent reminiscent of Hugh Grant. He was undoubtedly the best-looking man I'd ever laid eyes on.
If Pocahontas' John Smith were to come to life, he'd have looked like Will.
But no amount of Disney prince nostalgia can make up for awful sex.
"Can you slow down a little?" I asked, as Will performed at a speed that seemed to defy time itself.
"Na, that's boring," came the reply, as he continued, appearing mildly bemused by my request.
"This is it. I'm calling it quits. I'll save his ego and tell him I have a stomach ache," I thought.
Before the words had time to escape my mouth, he flipped me on top of him, plunging my face into the wall, leaving behind a glittery slick of bright pink lip gloss.
Needless to say, it was certainly the most memorable sex experience I've had, but not for the reasons Will was hoping.
I don't believe it's a coincidence Will was a bachelor, who, besides a high school romance, had never had a long-term relationship in his life.
Men who haven't had committed to relationships – at least, the hetero ones – are terrible in bed. And there's a reason for it.
They've never had a woman be honest with them in bed.
Women don't tell our one-night-stands when a particular position isn't working for us, or offer up feedback on why that weird thing you're doing to our clitoris isn't going to get anyone to climax. If there's anywhere we're more likely to fake our orgasms and our pleasure, it's in bed with a guy we just met.
It takes most women months, if not years into a relationship, to feel comfortable enough to speak up in the bedroom. In fact, I regularly talk to women who've been married for over a decade and still haven't told their husbands they've never had an orgasm.
For the vast majority of women, it's never occurred to them, even as grown adults, that sex is something they're entitled to enjoy.
Sex education goes to great lengths to ignore the existence of female sexual pleasure. While we learn boys have wet dreams and boners, we're taught girls have painful periods and need to fret about unwanted pregnancy.
It's little wonder then, a study of over 20,000 sexually active Australian women found one in five women experience pain or discomfort during sex (compared to just 2 per cent of men) and don't speak up about it. We're taught to see our bodies, and more so our vaginas, as sources of pain.
In her New York Times best-selling book, Girls & Sex, sex researcher and author Peggy Orenstein explains why women have such a hard time talking about their pleasure.
"Parents don't tend to name their infant baby's genitals if they're girls. For boys, they'll say, 'Here's your nose, here's your shoulders, here's your waist, here's your pee pee', whatever. But with girls, there's this sort of blank space – it's right from navel to knees, and not naming something makes it quite literally unspeakable."
Indeed, a 2019 survey conducted by UK research group, YouGov, found most women don't even know the correct names for their genital anatomy.
There are other cues girls receive at an early age too, like repetitive comments about being "pretty" and "beautiful". These so-called compliments make it clear to our young brains the most notable characteristic about us is how much visual pleasure we can give someone else.
It shouldn't be surprising then, when we're sleeping with a guy we're still getting to know, the last thing we're likely to do is tell him that actually, we're not really enjoying ourselves.
Which brings me back to Will.
I never did tell him how awful the sex was. In fact, I texted him afterward and asked if I could see him again. But Will was already busy attending to his next conquest – another woman who'd undoubtedly allow him to continue on his path of sexual disappointment.
Not long after Will had been deleted from my contacts, I had a date with Blake – also a 20-something guy who wasn't looking for anything committal, but who, unlike his predecessor, had just come out of a five-year relationship.
It was obvious Blake had been upskilled by a female partner comfortable enough to illuminate him on why most of what women appear to enjoy in porn (the only place for men to go to learn about female pleasure after sex education leaves them empty-handed) doesn't translate to real-life.
My orgasm with Blake came unexpectedly quickly.
While I'm pro (protected) casual sex, it'd be folly of me not to point out that, in general, it benefits men far more than it does women.
With commitment fast being replaced by the easy swipe of a new sexual partner on our phones, there are more single men on the dating scene than ever before. Read: men sheltered from receiving critical feedback in bed, and whom, consequently, are operating under the assumption their penises are magical.
So forget about asking your date arbitrary things like what he does for work and how old he is, and instead, ask him how long his last serious relationship was.
If he says he's never had one, politely excuse yourself to the bathroom, climb out the window and run home to your vibrator. Unlike the sex you almost had, it won't let you down.