I completely panicked over WhatsApp and basically invented a wildly adventurous sex life because my Tinder match seemed so cool, experienced, and out of my league. In reality, I've literally only kissed one person at a uni party. Last night we finally ended up in my dorm room, took off our shirts, and suddenly they completely broke down in tears. Turns out they are a total virgin, terrified out of their mind because my fake sex stories made them feel so inadequate that they just mirrored my fake swagger. Now I feel like the absolute worst human alive.

Deep breath: you aren’t a monster, you’re just part of the world’s most accidentally hilarious game of bedroom poker where both players bluffed with a pair of twos. Here is the great news hiding behind the awkward tears: the intimidation gap that was eating you both alive doesn’t exist. You were both terrified of being the novice in the room, so you put on cheap superhero capes to survive WhatsApp. You don’t need the cape anymore. Drop the mask immediately. Make some tea, sit down on the floor next to them, and come clean with a grin: "Look, I have a confession. I completely panicked over text and made everything up. I've only ever kissed one person, and I was just as terrified as you." Turning a high-pressure performance into shared relief is literally the best foundation for great sex. You both get to learn together from scratch without pretending to be porn directors. That’s not a screw-up; that’s an absolute win.