coitusandcopouts:nightmarebrunette:

How many men? Does it get to you?

Are you asking me how many men I’ve been with sexually? A long time ago, when the number of men who’d put their penis inside of my vagina started getting into the 20s, I already found it terribly hard to keep count. Because I was seeing someone new, and he asked, I’d try to figure it out while on the treadmill. (“Michael, Ryan, Jim—wait, did I already count Jim?”)
Since PIV sex is the holy grail of all that’s hetero, this number didn’t include men I’d merely held naked, gone down on, who’d gone down on me, etc. And I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to include encounters that were particularly short or ones in which he came outside of me. That’s the problem with trying to quantify sexual encounters; it’s a stupid thing to do and serves no purpose besides assuaging or self-flaggelating your own ego.
This brings me to the second point of the question, and I really hope I’m misunderstanding the whole thing because it’s pissing me off. Why would it bother me? Why on earth would the history of my sexual decisions “get to” me? This is something no man has ever been asked. (“Wow, you’ve fucked 100 girls?! You must cry yourself to sleep at night!”) It’s not just a laughable attitude to take towards a man, it’s incomprehensible. It would be like asking a doctor if he’s ashamed that he’s performed over 200 successful heart surgeries or if a particularly intrepid traveler is embarrassed that they’ve seen 40 different countries. So no, it doesn’t get to me, except on the occasions when I reflect on how many penises I’ve seen and felt and how many orgasms I’ve witnessed and in those rare moments I think, “wow, I’m lucky.” It feels like a position of privilege and secret knowledge, not shame.

Ask me anything