"5"
"8"
"9"
"Erm, 7 if I don't include the ones that I don't class as actually having had sex with."
During a conversation involving copious amounts of white wine and far too many tequila shots than is acceptable before you've left the house for a night out I sat open mouthed at the kitchen table as Sarah smiled innocently and sank another shot.
"You can't not count them if you actually physically had sex with them!" I shouted.
"Why not? If they didn't get me there they don't count." Sarah shrugged.
The woman had a point.
"So, when you're seeing a new guy and he asks what your number is, what do you tell him?"
"7"
"And, what's the actual number?"
Cue dramatic pause around the table.
"Okay, it's more like 12!"
We've all been there, that first awkward conversation with a new guy or girl when, even though you really really don't want to know, you can't help but say, "So, what's your magic number?"
Whilst all the time hoping and praying that they'll say it first so that you can change your own number accordingly. In a modern day era where tv shows like Sex and The City have enabled women to embrace their sexual prowess and it isn't seen as such a taboo for women to have a healthy and active sex life anymore why are we still so eager to keep our numbers down?
It, unfortunately, still has a lot to do with the old fashioned stereotype that if a guy has slept with a lot of different girls he is seen as a hero yet if a girl has slept with a lot of guys she is viewed as, well, a bit of a whore basically. And, even more disturbing than the fact that stereotype is still around is that, for once, it's not the guys of this world that are keeping it going...it's the girls!
Us women like to bitch, it's instilled in us to bitch, it's how we vent. We know it's not nice but we can't help it and after over hearing a standard 1am drunken toilet conversation in a club my suspicions were confirmed...
Drunk Girl 1: "She's all over him like a rash!"
Drunk Girl 2: "That's because she's probably got a rash."
(Alcohol makes us girls so eloquent!)
Drunk Girl 1: "Did you know she's slept with 10 guys!! What a hoe!"
Drunk Girl 2: " I hope he's got protection because he does not want to go in there bare back!"
From my position safely behind the bathroom door, perched on top of the toilet cistern, mojito in hand I tried both not to giggle and to work out whether if girls were treating their own sex like this could we really complain when men refer to us so objectively?
Back at the kitchen table which was by now covered in a thin layer of wine due to spillages we poured another round of drinks and discussed 'The ones that didn't count'. Emily had 'The Genie' - the guy who got a little too excited too quickly. Lucy had 'The Texter' - who was so addicted to his iphone he stopped during to read a message. Rachel had 'Sofa Guy' - Who had wanted to get down and dirty on her parent's sofa before admitting that he hadn't had sex before. And finally, there was 'Biology Boy' - Biology Boy was the sweet and kind ex-boyfriend of Gemma until the day he asked her if she had a clitoris and whether she knew where it was...seriously, I'm not kidding.
We did offer to draw a diagram but Gemma didn't think he'd appreciate it.
Biology Boy, or indeed any other man reading this who isn't quite sure where it is it's probably about 2 inches higher than where you normally focus all of your attention and it accounts for 85% of a woman's orgasm so when you find it, you'll know!
If we look at the stereotypes of Men celebrating the amount of women they've slept with (assuming that the stereotype is true for a moment) then the conversation I witnessed between five 22 year old males a couple of weeks ago took me completely by surprise.
"That bird from Brighton doesn't count."
"Mate, you're a man slag, they all count!"
Cue a lot of male cheering and back slapping.
"No! No! Shut the fuck up! They only count if they mean something."
I choked on my beer a bit at that point.
"If a girl means something to you, she counts. No matter how brief it was."
Looking around the room from my quiet place in the corner I witnessed, just for a split second, each of those guys remember sex with a girl that had meant something to them.
"Yeah, but you still fucked that Brighton slag!"
And then it was gone.
So, maybe we've all gone a bit sexually doolally in our time and there are guys, girls and scenarios that we'd like to forget but no matter what your real magic number is will we always only remember the ones that count...?
