So the other day I’m sitting with some friends who are playing the “what’s your number” game. Also known as “I’ve had two glasses of wine & I feel like being nosey about how many guys you’ve slept with.”
I personally have never been a fan of this game because I enjoy tallying off my one-night stands, almost-lovers and everyone in between as much as I enjoy plucking out my eyelashes. That being said, the game commences and I start thinking…
Well, there was Zane, the guy who had the bad luck of being my rebound after a two-year relationship and who was slightly too short for me to enjoy most positions.
Then we have Josh, the guy who drank chocolate almond milk in the middle of the night & burned me CDs of sappy Kings of Leon songs.
And who could forget Taylor, the guy who I slept with on a yacht and made me swear off tequila for a year.
Thinking of my “number,” is making me laugh and cringe at the same time. Not because of the physical number (because honestly, fuck anyone who thinks that matters), but because of the tiny anecdotes tied to each one.
My four years of college as a single girl (Yes, single the whole time. Still single and no, Mom, I’m not a lesbian) has given me experiences that have shaped my views on love, sex, lust and having a vagina all together.
I’ll start at the beginning. Forewarning, not all of these are pretty, but at the very least they are entertaining and perhaps even relatable. I guess we should start with the one and only boyfriend of this whole thing, the one that I still call on my drunkest nights sobbing with a bottle of red wine in one hand and Stacy’s pita chips in the other.
Like I said, this isn’t all pretty…
‘Loose lips sink ships’ is an ongoing series. check out the main page to see the latest updates in my hot mess of a dating life.
*All names have been changed to protect those being written about. If you think any of these stories are about you, well… they probably aren’t.
Featured image via We Heart It’s @saramack81