Okay, ready? Think fast. In what ways are numbers related to sex? You have five seconds. Got any thoughts? Well, if you do, you're sharper than I am. Maybe it's just me and my hatred of all things mathematical and my love of (almost) all things sexual, but I don't see where anyone gets off mixing numbers and sex.
With the exception of the jump from zero to one sexual partner - a leap from nothing to something - I don't understand why we count. Once you decide that you're going to have more than one partner in your lifetime, why do the numbers matter?
This came up in an interesting conversation I had this past winter break. I was up at Tremblant in Canada, and after skiing each day, my brother (my only company on the trip) and I would go out, have dinner, get a few drinks and usually get to talking. Now I know what you're thinking: "Ew, this is your brother!" But after a nice beer buzz set in at the mountain's microbrewery while watching the singles scene unfold at the bar, the topic of numbers came up.
I had recently read an article in a magazine where women rated how many sexual partners they thought was normal, how many they had had, and how many more (or less) they wanted to have. Not surprisingly, some women had had only one or two partners (I was disappointed that no one who had been surveyed had had none, or at least no one had admitted it), many had had between five and 10, and some had had more, a few having had MANY more. But the surprise for me was how many women wanted their numbers to be drastically different than they were. Some women regretted having racked up the notches, saying youth had gotten them carried away and that age had made them calmer and wiser. Some were embarrassed by their low numbers, and really wished they had been around the block a few more times. Very few were accepting of their sexual history.
So my brother and I got to chatting about this matter of numbers after sizing up some of the people milling around the bar. I told him about the statistics I had read, and he quickly volunteered that he didn't think a woman should sleep with more than five to seven men before settling down. I have to admit, I was rather taken aback. Now sure, I've heard the buzz about guys being more attracted to less experienced partners, but I didn't think they took it so seriously. First of all, doesn't it depend a bit on the age at which a person begins having sex and when (and if) they marry? And serial daters, those who are constantly meeting new people, are probably likely to have more partners than people who only go through a couple of serious relationships before settling down. How about those who are voluntarily (or involuntarily) celibate for a long stretch of time? There were so many factors to bring up that I began talking myself into a tizzy. And then I couldn't help but start wondering about myself.
The first person I slept with was the only person I slept with for my first two sexually active years. And then, when we broke up, there were a few more. Now, I do mean a few, only a few. But I started thinking, if I keep going at the rate I've been going, and let's just say I go through two or three more serious relationships, hypothetically marry at 30, my numbers are going to be, well, way above the five-to-seven range.
Now I'm not saying this is good or bad, normal or abnormal. But it's me, and it's my history, and I'm very comfortable with it. But what if someone that I want to be with isn't? Why should the numbers matter? Shouldn't they care far more about the substantive feelings, or lack thereof, that accompanied the sex? Shouldn't they be able to appreciate me more for who I am than for my tally total? What is this obsession that we have with numbers? Maybe it's just me, but I don't see how adjectives like passionate, carnal, spontaneous, loving, kinky and irresistible can all be lumped together under a mathematical figure. All sex isn't equal, and yet each partner with whom you engage in sex gets the same count. And furthermore, whoever thought that sex, such a physical act that ranges with any given partner or partners in speed, length, quality, angle, depth and acceleration, should all be counted in units of one?
Maybe I should start hiding my numbers, just so that no one has the chance to judge me one way or another on them. Or maybe I should weigh them, subtracting those that mean little to me in my mind and multiply those that carried real substance for me. Or maybe we all need to be just a little more accepting of the numbers - we all have our reasons, we all have our emotions, and many of those factors change over time, adjusting the pace at which the numbers grow.
So unless you really want to hear the lowdown on what each number represents for your potential partner, I say let sleeping dogs lie. As long as those past partners were safe and consensual, let's face it: Numbers and sex just don't mix.
