It’s not the number of sexual encounters you’ve had that matters, it’s how you feel about them. Find out why here…
Recently, I found a cocktail serviette shoved into an old diary. On it was the list of guys I’d slept with up until that point in the late Nineties. I remember the night a friend and I helped each other tally our totals. (“What about the waiter at that wedding in Cape Town?”) To fit my list, I had to write on all four squares.
Yes, I know.
Let’s just say that the total was more than my age at the time… Sure, I had a lot of fun, but in my twenties I was a premature hooker-upper, ever hopeful that sex would lead to love. Occasionally it did, but mostly it didn’t.
Evidently I needed to learn that lesson many times over. Still, I don’t regret any of it (and the sex was always safe). I can’t regret something I learnt from.
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