Sandra Dick: Are we a sex-crazed city?

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EVERYBODY’S doing it apparently. Like bunny rabbits on Viagra, porn stars on overtime, Magaluf holidaymakers on an average night out, the Capital appears to have gone just a little bit sex crazy. Well that’s how it appears from here, where I’m very much refraining from joining in this group love-in and keeping the belt on my trousers very firmly done up.

According to studies from not one but two dating sites set up specifically to cater for love rats seeking an illicit affair behind their partner’s backs with someone else’s partner (too complicated for me already) the city is a red hot steaming love zone of lustiness.

Never mind ‘fur coat nae knickers’, thousands have thrown off everything for a no-ties rumble in the sheets and to hell with the marriage vows.

According to extra-marital affairs dating site AshleyMadison.com, there was a 40 per cent jump in Capital numbers last year bringing its city-based members to almost 14,000. That’s echoed by another similar site, Illicitencounters.com, which has 60,000 randy Scots on its bulging books.

Each to their own, but I imagine most folks’ first question is ‘how on earth can they be bothered?’ – after all having one man mooching around in my life is more than enough. Two would be bordering on masochism and I’m sure there are other websites available for that.

Secondly, where on earth do their female members find the time for a fling? After I’ve worked, cleaned, scrubbed, ironed, dealt with kids, shouted at kids, beat myself up for shouting at kids, I’ve barely energy to open my pain-numbing bottle of wine. The idea of rushing off to the local Holiday Inn for a fumble sounds about as fun as repeatedly stabbing myself in the eye with a sharp stick dipped in acid.

To be honest, though, I did once log on to one of those sites – purely in the interests of research – on orders of a past editor keen to find out what went on beyond the log-in page.

Posing as Hera, the Greek goddess of marriage (clever huh?) I put up a fake ID, sat back and quickly discovered I was the most popular girl in town with more admirers – all of them lying, cheating slimeballs, of course – than I could possibly dream of.

Admittedly, even though it was all a lie, the attention was kind of flattering. Perhaps if circumstances had been different I might well have been tempted by the 44-year-old bloke who e-mailed telling me how he wanted to “squeeze in as much as possible – ooh err! – from life”.

OK. Perhaps not.

What was clear then – and even clearer now –is that there are an awful lot of people out there who may want to ask where their other half is tonight.

And who they might be with.