I find it wholly unfair that my coupley friends get regular sex, but I'm judged when I go out to find some of my own.

As a woman who thinks about sex pretty darn often and who is by and large happy with her lifestyle, I am happy with the choices I make. But there's one thing that drives me absolutely crazy.

How is it that my male friends can pick up a new woman every week and get slapped on the back and congratulated over and over again about sowing their wild oats all over Johannesburg?

It's the Stud & Slapper model, so used amongst my friends and conquests. I'm trying my best here to lead a perfectly balanced life: career, regular sex, and at least one chocolate bar a week.

So why do I feel so dirty?

I am a woman who well knows the emotional and disease-ridden risks of sex. I also don't want a relationship with anyone right now, because secretly, I want Mr Big Kryptonite to announce himself on my lawn with a boombox on his head, and confess his undying and happily-ever-after love for me. This may never happen, and it probably won't.

In the meantime, I'm quite happy to satisfy my gargantuan libido through the means of prettying myself up to get myself some sugar on the side. Surprise, surprise: women have sex drives too.

Sometimes I have dud nights. And I know I am not going to get lucky before I even step into a place swarming with tasty snacks, erm, men. I start getting an itch in my groin way before I enter a building writhing with horny men. If I'm feeling crap about myself � which happens � I might as well not even try.

If I'm feeling particularly asexual, I won't bother to shave the old legs. (Although it's rather embarrassing having to make a mad dash for the razor and leg foam once home while my Shag Candy waits for me, naked in my bed).

Other times I'll take a bottle of wine with me to the bath tub, and fantasise, quite dirtily mind you, about which underwear I'll wear. I have three types.

The Woolies 3-Pack:

These are largely worn to events like my grandmother's tea parties or seeing an ex like Mr Big. The Woolies 3-Pack is my personal chastity belt. He's not allowed to see me in such unsexy undergarments.

The Satin Thongs:

These are worn after I've had a particularly smooth wax. And when my bottom hasn't been exposed to too many toasted cheese wedges.

The Shag Me Now You Dirty Bastard Lace Briefs:

Works on any occasion, and guaranteed to make me feel like a million bucks. Even if I am the only one to see them at the end of a night, I'll walk around like I'm the business the entire evening, and possibly go home and shag myself senseless anyway. Lace and I are best friends.

Once the underwear is chosen, I'll cream myself from top to toe and put my face on. This is a ritual for us ladies. With my mask on, I can be whoever I want to be.

Then, just for fun (and in 6 inch heels), I'll dance in front of my full-length mirror to check out my curves, flash myself my wine eyes and chat myself up. Getting lucky, or sealing the deal with someone means one needs to be confident.

When on the pull, I ensure that the lowest button on my cleavage-revealing neglige is undone, and I give myself a pep-talk about confidence.

If Mr Big Kryptonite walks into the same establishment as me, I need to make sure I'm looking so good, his eyes sting. Even if I'm not the hottest girl there, he needs to think that I think I'm hot. Because even if he ends up going home with another girl, I want to know that he is still thinking about me.

Every woman is allowed to feel sexy. Especially in the face of male adversity.

Picture me. I am wearing only my heels and checking myself out in the mirror. Hmm, I wonder which underwear I should choose for my blind date tonight?