I consider myself somebody who watches a lot of reality television.

Married at First Sight was once my chosen poison, and it is exactly as it sounds: a juicy social ‘experiment’ where, according to objective compatibility standards, two individuals are coupled, only to meet for the first time at the altar. One contestant proved an awkward but charming ‘29-year-old-virgin’; a title the producers continually pinned to him. It’s as if ‘virgin’ was his career, a nationality, a symbol of sorts and not his intimacy status, such as, ‘Matthew, 29-year-old virgin from Queensland, has sat down with his bride to devour some wagyu on their honeymoon’; or, ‘Matthew, 29-year-old virgin from a rural northern town, will kill a man if one more media outlet attempts to pathologise him for clicks.’