Instead of being productive on a Monday morning… you know, writing thank you notes, fixing the bottom drawer on my dresser, or picking up the myriad of empty glasses and plates around the house, I am sitting in my pajamas wondering why there isn’t a service to call. Just one phone call and a cute butch shows up at my house with carpenter jeans and a tool belt ready to fix shit. I’ll tip her well, but she will also have to figure out the garbage disposal and tell me I look beautiful in my sweatpants.
My laziness isn’t what this blog post is about, reader. This is about that all important question that strikes every relationship early on: what. is. your. number. FUCK. I don’t know where in the history of relationships this question was deemed acceptable to ask. Did anyone ever ask Ms. Taylor? Or what about Marilyn? Just picture it: there she lays, smoking a Pall Mall with JFK after a waspy romp, and he turns to her and asks, “How many dicks have you had inside you, my dear? Just making conversation.”
There is no winning this conversation, as most of you have experienced first hand. And it goes both ways (kinda like me)… you say too few and the look of alarm that stares back at you is petrifying. Too few and you think, “Shit! Is this person going to be attached to me? Fall in love after two weeks? Want to have my babies?” Unfortunately, the answer to all of these questions may be yes. One women I was dating, after just a few days, confessed her love to me and her number (which was 1). I ran away so fast into the slutty hills, I woke up a few weeks later in a blur of Bud light cans and phone numbers I would never use. Go the other direction? You are even more screwed… yay puns! A high number, instead of implying that you are sexually knowledgable or comfortable with your body, implies that you are a whore. And that you probably get that itching sensation checked out.
The truth is: no number is bad. Lying about it won’t really solve anything, but if you have a high number in comparison to the person you are with, don’t let them be the Rush Limbaugh to your Sandra Fluke. Slut shaming is not sexy. A previous ex made me feel guilty about my number, and I felt pretty shitty for a while that she was judging my past. Then, I stepped back and realized… fuck her for judging my past. Before you ask the person you are dating that miserable integer, remember three things:
1. DORKS GET LAID. The sexiest high number to have is IQ. Take it from a lady who has Elvish tattooed on her ribcage (real talk)… just because you weren’t cool in high school, doesn’t mean that Italian diction and plot points from Ender’s Game won’t get you laid. Play your nerd card wisely, but if you find a fellow nerd and judge their high number, you can go fuck yourself because that nerd is too hot for you.
2. HAVE THIS DISCUSSION SOBER. I’ve had both women and men get the courage to ask me this question while under the influence, and it’s never pretty. If you really want to know, make sure you ask in a controlled setting with a latte, not a Irish car bomb. Messy.
3. DON’T ASK. Seriously. If you can’t handle it, don’t ask. Odds are, if you think a person is attractive and awesome, other people have thought the same thing. And YOU are the lucky one for ending up with her… ahem… oops… I mean whoever. I’m not talking about myself at all. Clearly.
Going into this summer, with all the booze, concerts, festivals, and more booze, you are bound to make some bad decisions, and maybe your number will rise to the occasion. And the next time someone asks you, do what I do… just say, “40. Oh, MY number? No, that’s not mine. I thought you asked for your Mom’s number.” BAM. That conversation is over.