Guys say the dumbest shit when you are getting it on. And while I appreciate the talk—you know, along the lines of “you’re so hot,” “you give the best blow jobs” and “you’re a great kisser,” there are things I don’t want to hear. Especially shit like “Are you on the pill? I really don’t like using condoms,” or “Oh, GAWD, I loved you so much” when I’m trying to have a perfectly decent one-night stand with no emotion attached whatsoever.
But there’s one thing that’s really not sexy-time conversation with someone you barely know—and that is “So, how many people have you slept with?”
Ack, the Numba!
Look, I fully acknowledge that Numbas are important. Hell, I love Numbas—I love betting on 33 at the roulette table, I love knowing when to double down—fuck, I get a sick satisfaction from balancing my checkbook. But I have no need to know your Numba unless we’re full-on dating—and by then, I’ll probably have eked everything out of you anyway due to my super-spy skills at getting people to spill their guts.
Besides, I would like for once to hear a solid number from a guy. “Oh, yeah, it’s in the 50s.” “I dunno, maybe 60?” Or my personal favorite, which seems to be the go-to gray area for every fucking guy in the universe, “It’s in the 30s somewhere. I don’t know for sure. I get around.”
Um, yes, 30s somewhere. I don’t know why you guys can’t count—or why you pretend not to know how. I know my exact Numba, and it is one of these which you will have to guess (and please do in comments below, there might be a prize) and I’ll disclose it somewhere in a future column: 5, 14, 33, 47 or 67.
Here’s my other bitch about the Numbas. What counts? Personally, unless there is full penetration/fucking I don’t count a guy as a lay.
“What? You don’t count them?” Roommate Jim said one night while we were discussing the oral sex randoms ever so gently peppered throughout our lives.
“Nope, never,” I say. “Why should I be? Do you?”
“Anytime there is any sort of penis/vagina/mouth contact, I count it,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Really?” I say astounded by this turn of events. “’Cause if that’s true, my Numba just skyrocketed!”
So, as I lied in bed that night, I tried to remember all the folks who have gone down on me, like that Mormon during college, or who I have given head to…And then I tried to recalculate my Numba. My brain started to go all mushy, much like it did in August when I lived in Las Vegas, so I decided to give up. Even NASA couldn’t sort that shit out. My new ballpark Oral Sex Inclusive Numba: 12, 23, 35, 51 or 75.
So, I guess I can see where guys get their inflated, bullshit Numbas…and I kinda like it. Now that’s some fuzzy math I can get behind.