sex in numbers

After Six-Feet of Shoulders set off an atomic bomb in my chest I started “hanging out” with a guy – let’s call him “Hoops”.

Hoops and I had The Talk, you know the one, the one that either makes or breaks a new relationship. The Talk happened like it always does when cuddling in bed and went something like this:

“Sooo…how many people have you been with?” he asks.

“I thought you didn’t want to know.” I say

“I changed my mind.”

“You first.”


“Really? That’s it?”


Hoops is devastatingly handsome, the kind of handsome that inspire high numbers. His magnetic green eyes waiting…waiting for MY number…




“You’re lying.”

“No, I am not.  I don’t lie…My high school boyfriend, my college boyfriend, and my post-college boyfriend.” I say.

The look on his face is best described as SHOCK.

“I’ve never had a one night-stand. I am a relationship girl.”

Proving yet again I should have been born when a corset was part of the dress code. I resist the urge to grab the freak label that is sitting on the bed next to me, the I-am-a-girl-that-only-fucks-guys-I-love type of freak.

“I lied.” Hoops says, lifting his head up from resting on my chest. “My number is over a hundred,” he admits, guilt and shame flood his face…”but remember I played pro-ball.”

My mind starts to fill his bedroom with a hundred bodies, a hundred different vaginas – hmmm, maybe I should invest in a full body condom…wait, he said ‘over a hundred’ which probably means close to two hundred.

“Out of those hundred plus how many did you love?”



“And none of them spent the night.” he says, giving me a sly smile because I had just spent the night.

“So afterwards you would say what to them?”

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“How Jersey Shore of you.”

“It’s not like they didn’t know what they were getting into.”

“What were they getting into?”

His head collapses on my chest with a sigh and he says in a defeated sort of way, “Now you are never going to sleep with me.”

I guess some women when faced with this information would be shocked or disgusted, considering Hoops had just turned 27…but I am not. Everyone has warned me about playing in this part of the pool, but sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

I love his honesty, his ability to look me straight in the eye and come clean. I don’t give a shit about his past as long as they stay in the past and I become his present and hopefully his future.

The things that happened or didn’t happen before you meet your “one” is what makes you appreciate them – makes you see that this is someone special.  I am thankful to all 100+ girls that marched in here before me because without them he might not have been able to recognize that I am the real mother fucking deal.

I pull his head up off my chest and look him straight in the eye, “I will if I love you.”

Hoops kind of smiles, but I can still see the shame in his eyes.

“Just don’t fuck this up.” I warn.

It is true. I don’t lie. Hoops has got a chance…WE have got a chance.

Some might say that Hoops and I are from two different worlds, with two different pasts and there will never be a common ground…to them I say don’t judge a book by its cover or a lover by their number because you might miss out on one of the greatest stories you’ve ever read.

12 thoughts on “sex in numbers

  1. This one I really, really like. It’s so good to get this particular topic down and out there. Told well and precisely. Unsentimental and deep, the way you are.

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