At first I was horrified to have my sexual history broadcast from the pages of a major Canadian newspaper. Then I laughed when I realized why the reporter who interviewed me for the story kept asking me how many people I'd slept with.
Out of sheer pressure, I had cobbled a number together for him from my rather sorry excuse for a memory.
Maybe I was being naive (it was my first book tour after all) but I didn't see it as a big deal.
Apparently, he did.
That was six years ago, and while I've definitely added to the grand total, I still have no idea exactly how many people I've slept with.
And, while I'm not nearly as naive, I still don't see what the big deal is.
Neither does my current guy. He has no idea how many people I've slept with. He's never asked and I've never offered.
Nor do I care how many came before me.
I am his best, of course.
But more importantly, I am his current.
And that should be all that matters.
Shouldn't it?
Okay, he should know the state of my sexual health, which he does.
And sure, we've talked about what we have and haven't done, and what we'd like to still do, but we feel no need to share the details of these experiences.
Of course, failing the "don't ask, don't tell" approach, most people lie.
"I always tell my partners a dozen because I think that's a comfortable number for them to hear," says Wunnerful in a recent debate on this very subject in the My
And while he says he rarely asks his partners their numbers, preferring to keep the discussion to what they like and don't like, he admits he'd get a little freaked if he found out his partner had slept with 250 lovers.
I think I'd be more intrigued than freaked. Who has the resources, never mind the time, to sleep with that many people?
Betternottell likes Wunnerful's idea of creating an "acceptable" number and sticking to it. But while she's not ashamed of her "healthy" sex life, she'd simply rather not ask, and not tell. "I don't consider it to be a truly valid indication of how someone would or would not behave in a relationship with me," she writes. "Sure, history repeats itself, but the person's current actions speak louder than any words that flow from their lips about their history."
If only she'd been coaching me back when that reporter was grilling me.
But while both men and women often lie about their numbers - either overestimating or underestimating depending on the situation and your level of insecurities, as Wunnerful so rightly states in the debate - there is no question that a person's sexual history is judged differently depending on their sex.
"I think that men have a harder time dealing with a girlfriend's higher number, because, let's face it, it's still harder for guys to get laid, and most of us men are envious of that," offers Outdoor Lover, whose current girlfriend has at least 75 lovers to his 10.
Kind of ironic, given that men are perceived to be more interested in sex than women in our culture.
But that's part of the problem. It's not so much that men can't get laid as easily as women, but that men who get easily laid are simply fulfilling their biological duty, while women who get easily laid make us uncomfortable.
Which explains why someone like Wilt Chamberlain becomes a legend for having slept with thousands of women while a woman's descriptions of her lifetime of sexual adventures in The Sexual Life of Catherine M. are called "a cry for help" in a review in Esquire magazine.
And that's another reason why I'd rather not say anything. I don't want to have to drag the cultural baggage my number carries into bed with me. And I'd rather cuddle the guy who's inspired my most recent bed notch than coddle his ego.
I'm with Ubik on this one.
"People who insist on the question should never be trusted with the answer (nor with anything else, relationship-wise)," he adds to the debate. "And what's the point in telling someone who's not interested in the question?"
Exactly.
Of course, people aren't just worried about having too high a number. I regularly get letters from people concerned about their lack of experience because they've had so few partners. They fear new lovers will laugh them out of bed or something.
I'm sorry, but a person's level of experience can't be entirely credited to the number of people they've practised with. Some people are quick learners. Others have bedded hundreds and still can't give a decent hand job.
Then there are those like Mozart, who attempt to turn it into a question of medical necessity. "I'm a blood donor, so I would be compelled to ask for a potential partner's history for at least the previous 12 months," he insists.
You don't need to know how many people a person has slept with. You need to know if he or she has been tested. Different question.
And as Matt says, "Why not just use a condom?"
Which is not to say that one shouldn't discuss a partner's sexual health, as I mentioned above. But, again, that has little to do with how many people he or she has slept with.
No matter how many diseased partners your lover has had, you only need to know which STIs he or she has contracted from them, not which person he got it from and in what position they were in, or what room of the house they were doing it in when he got it.
Like I said: Don't ask. Don't tell. You do the math.
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