A guy I met on Saturday was in the middle of bust-up with his girlfriend because he’d been sleeping with prostitutes.

There are lots of reasons why this could end a relationship – deceit, taking risks with sexual health, psych issues – but once, a million years ago, I was the maligned girlfriend and my problem was that the guy was able to compare me directly with someone likely to be much better at sex.

This tells you a lot about my self-confidence at the time, and my destructive habit of measuring my worth in units of sexual prowess.

But talking about it this weekend, I realised my approach now to competing with prostitutes would be different. Sure, they are gonna be good at sex (I should damned well hope so if they’re doing it for a living!) but would it be the end of the world if they were better than me?

I still credit sex with more mystical influence than it probably has, but the idea of not being the best shag someone has ever had sits ok with me now. Plus sex is more than the sum of its parts, and I have things other than expertise to throw into the mix.

(I am often down on myself for acting in ways that don’t confirm the person I’d like to think I am. Quite a few times lately I have caught myself doing the opposite, being surprised when I realise I have become more rational and level-headed about things that used to upset me.)