As fans are well-aware, there’s been a lot of drama on this season of Bachelor in Paradise. Is it the most dramatic season of all? That’s for Chris Harrison to ultimately decide “yes.” For those unfamiliar, a bunch of Bachelor and Bachelorette castaways go to a resort in Mexico and must pair up if they want to stay on the show.

Lucky for you, I don’t have time to explain the myriad of intricacies contained in the Bachelor universe, so let’s focus on one man in particular: Blake Horstmann. Blake is, or was—more on this—a big cutie who was the runner-up on Becca Kufrin’s season last year. Prior to filming this season, Blake went to a music festival called Stagecoach, and while there, slept with two women who are now his co-stars, Caelynn Miller-Keyes and Kristina Schulman. Naturally, this series of events becomes the central source of tension on the show, and results in the women largely turning against him and many shots of a distraught Blake with his head in his hands, racked with regret. Then last week, Blake posted photos of his text exchanges from Stagecoach with Miller-Keyes to “clear things up,” but of course it just made it all muddier.

A lot of people—myself included—are highly confused as to why his back-to-back hookup is noteworthy, let alone strikes so many as blatantly immoral. There are entire reddit threads devoted to defending Blake’s pre-show dalliances, although the show is still giving him a “villain edit,” which plenty of viewers think is fair. Essentially, the question of his guilt is akin to “We were on a break!” And, just like the notorious Friends conundrum, “Is a back-to-back hookup skeezy?” has an obvious answer.

The verdict? There’s nothing wrong with hooking up with two different people on two consecutive nights. Blake is a young, single man with a six pack and no job because he’s vaguely “famous.” If I had either of those two things while I was single, I would not be writing this article right now because I’d still be hooking up with people. But even for the normies out there who lack his bleached, boyish smile and a Miles Teller-esque physique, a sex-full weekend does not require moral defense. There is no magical amount of time that must pass before you can have sex with another person. Ahh it’s been 78 hours, I can interact with new genitals again.

Arguably, the supreme joy of being single is that you’re completely free to have sex with more than one person. Music festivals are the ideal place for crop dusting horniness with other singles who also possess abs and bleached smiles. (I assume, anyway. Admittedly I have not been to a music festival because, like tuna salad, I hate literally every ingredient involved.) Other than molly, what else are you at the music festival to do?

Even outside this extra-horny setting, this Blake censure ignores the fact that there are periods in life where you are just on. A few years back, the gods governing my sex life got their shit together for once, and I was getting more hookup opportunities in a month than I’d gotten in years; my friends dubbed this month Cocktober. Like nailing a job interview simply because you don’t need the job, sometimes the energy boost you get from a fun bang sesh carries over into the next night, and you exude some unquantifiable vibe (sorry for saying vibe) that attracts more fun boning opportunities. There’s a scene in Under the Tuscan Sun wherein a character describes chasing ladybugs, never finding any, growing weary and falling asleep in the grass, only to wake up covered in ladybugs. Perhaps that’s what happened for me, and perhaps that’s what happened for Blake. (Although I doubt he had long periods sans lady or ladybug). Let’s not shout at the man for having a thirty, flirty, and thriving weekend!