#101 ways I’m failing my twenties – #91

Because of all the time I probably spent in my early twenties thinking about this… #91 gets its own blog post…

#91: worrying about the number of men I slept with or why it mattered…

Don’t ask me why but the other day I tried to name all the men I slept with. At uni it was a game my bestie and I played, more to compare what was good about sex rather than any sort of competition or shaming tool.

It has been a couple of years since I have attempted to name ex lovers and what it all means to me, or whether it matters at all. I came to the same total I’m pretty sure I had at age 23 so it seems all those boys I had pined over, or loved, or stalked, or just slept with because I felt like it, didn’t matter so much because, when you’re sitting in on a Monday night with nothing else to do but count your ex-lovers, you never remember them all anyway. (Or at least I didn’t). My mistake I suppose was thinking that it even mattered to remember them. For all my sexual experiences (or lack thereof) I wouldn’t say I’m an expert. I’m sexually liberated but I wouldn’t say that my count of sexual partners is the reason. At the end of the day, any time spent worrying whether my number was too high, or low, is time wasted (well it’s not rocket science but it took awhile to get there). I wish I had spent more time worrying about having a good time myself than wondering what another notch on my bed post meant.


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