'I was so busy as a single mum, I forgot to have sex for seven years.'

I tell people I used an anonymous sperm donor because I couldn't find a bloke to marry me. It sometimes gets a laugh.  It's much more complicated than that of course.

I'd been a binge drinker since the late '80s. I had a few boyfriends but no one really felt like a good fit and when guys tried to get close I'd sabotage with my drinking.

It usually showed up with my words. I could say really mean things when I'd had a few drinks and these perfectly good men would run a mile.

So, when I decided to stop drinking completely in my mid-thirties, I thought it would solve all my problems. I mean, if my words were ever going to inflict pain at least I would now remember what I'd said. I felt much more in control and like I had opened up my world to possibilities. 

So, for the next year or so, I put myself out there, dating a few interesting, fun and very different guys. There was the carpenter, the ceramic artist and the banker (who all lasted around four months before they fizzled out like sparklers on a birthday cake). 

That ache to have children was definitely becoming stronger and putting pressure on my heart. 

The societal expectations and practical approach of needing the support of a man to become a loving mother were ever present, so I kept at it. 

Seriously, what was wrong with me? Why couldn't I find my person? 

Then one day, it hit me. I noticed a couple arguing on St Kilda Road.A well-dressed, put-together, seemingly normal, everyday married couple. 

The next day, I saw a woman walking in front of her partner, ignoring him.  Then I saw friends disagreeing over how long his mother could stay. 

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It was everywhere. The messiness of life and coupledom. They'd found their people, but it wasn't perfect. Some relationships would make it. Some would not. 

With that reality check lodged firmly in my brain, I decided that as having a partner was not going to be sunshine and unicorns anyway, and my ovaries, although well intentioned to keep producing quality eggs, couldn't keep going forever, I had to act. Now. 

I got pregnant through IVF pretty quickly and my first child was due on my40th birthday. Not wanting the occasion overlooked, I organised a family dinner in a pub in Fitzroy before heading home exhausted to collapse on the couch. 

That was nothing. Little did I know how tired I would become once I actually became a mother. A good night's sleep was rare. 

When my second child arrived two and a half years later, I was running a business and looking after my kids, but I was at peace with the blissful exhaustion that was my world. 

Tired and happy. Emotional and happy. Sometimes functioning well, sometimes not, but happy. I had everything I needed. 

Or so I thought…

By the time my second child was settled in school, I started to feel like something was missing. I was clear I didn't want a partner in my life, but I missed having some male company. 

It came to the forefront when I did a 500km charity bike ride with other entrepreneurs in Thailand. Over the course of the five-day cycling trip, a few men noticed me. Some even flirted with me.  

Then it dawned on me. It had been seven years since I had sex. 'I need to get laid,' I thought. 

One of the guys showed me how to use Tinder. He'd had success and told me it'd be easy. I wasn't so sure, but I consider myself a high achiever, so I committed. 

The day I returned to Australia, I got my hair done, took one nice selfie and got myself a tinder profile. I got laid within three days. 

I mixed it up a bit with walks, coffee catch-ups, and tennis dates. Some days, I got unmatched and rejected, but I knew it was just part of dating. 

Occasionally, when I was feeling needy or annoyed, my messages and behaviour were less than ideal. On other days, I was kind and fun and on fire. 

I really did love the male energy and the anticipation that came with dating. 

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Occasionally, those pesky hormones urging me to partner up appeared after sex, but that's not what I wanted. I knew they'd pass and they always did. 

I met the most amazing men on their own journeys. Some confided in me about feeling a bit jaded with the whole online dating scene, so I gave them my take on it, and they were genuinely grateful. 

I reckon, sometimes, us gals are good at saying what we don't want or what guys get wrong, but overlook telling them what we do want. 

Most appeared to be good guys making mistakes, getting frustrated and sometimes behaving badly, just as I had done on occasion. 

They appreciated my non-blamey approach and honest feedback from a woman's perspective. 

So you know what? I decided to write a book for them. I wanted them to understand themselves and women better, so I gave them practical dating tips from a woman's perspective. 

Apparently guys liked the raw, honest approach, with some of my videos even getting millions of views on TikTok. 

A podcast followed and I found myself sharing more than I ever thought possible aboutsex, dating and relationships.

It was confronting and I often felt vulnerable and retreated, but then I'd be brave and release another episode.

I decided to personally hang up my Tinder dating shoes a few years ago now (when menopause kicked in and the hormones went walkabout). 

But I'm still very proud that as a strong, single-by-choice woman, I continue to help men with a sense of joy, vulnerability and positivity, and by doing so, hopefully I'm helping women too. 

Maureen Pound is an entrepreneur based in Melbourne. She has written a dating and communication book for men called How to Get Laid on Tinder.

Featured Image: Supplied.