When starting a sexual relationship with someone, there is one dreaded question that inevitably comes up in your coital conversations. What’s your number? The number of people that you’ve had sex with somehow always comes into question and it can be a nerve-wracking question to answer.
I recently experienced something of a crisis while pondering my own sexual identity, and thought of this question. I could not, for the life of me remember the number of people I have had sex with. Up until this point I felt that I had kept fairly meticulous mental record of “my number.” I remember when it was 2, I remember when it was 10, I even remember my favorite number, 15.
Somewhere after 20, however, I irretrievably lost count. I tried to make a list, crossing off “almosts” and writing question marks next to forgotten names. But alas, my list-making was to no avail. I began to question the validity of my own memory and whether some of these sexual encounters were figments of my fear, fantasy or imagination. Continue Reading
By the time my partner and I had settled into a sex routine, I had already forged a firm and profound bond with my 
Like a lot of women, I didn’t have the most pleasurable introduction to anal play. I was pressured, unprepared, and as a result, found myself in a fair amount of pain. My experience left me figuratively scarred and utterly apprehensive to re-approach any sexual rear-entry. 
Once upon a time, I took a man’s virginity. This isn’t odd or strange or unprecedented in human history, nor was it a “first” for me. The thing that made this experience, and the ensuing pseudo-relationship, remarkable was that this virgin (let’s call him Victor) was 32 years old.
