After the laughs and the raw fish and the Ferris wheel, we went back to his apartment and made out on his couch, listening to Van Morrison until dawn. My arm fell asleep about an hour in, but I didn’t say anything for fear of disrupting the kissing. When I finally got up to leave, it hurt to get my keys out of my purse.

It is rare to get through this life without feeling – generally with a degree of secret agony, perhaps at the end of a relationship, or as we lie in bed frustrated next to our partner, unable to go to sleep – that we are somehow a bit odd about sex.