Nothing good ever comes from this conversation (Picture: Almara Abgarian)

With Lil Nas X and others on social media declaring that the new year means your body count resets to zero, I’m reminded of many conversations I’ve had with men I’ve dated.

‘So, how many people have you slept with?,’ one asked as I took another sip of my drink. 

I was on a date in a busy pub and we’d reached that special moment of the night where the sexy chat slips in.

The bit where you’ve covered the small talk and are just about tipsy enough to ask more intimate questions.

Looking over at him, I played out scenarios in my head.

I knew all too well how he might react if he didn’t like the answer. I’d been there many times before.

I’m not ashamed of my sex life but I couldn’t be bothered to get that look – the one that says, ‘Wow, really? You’re a woman, shouldn’t your number be lower?’.

So, in the end, I fobbed the question off. 

This was a long time ago, back when I thought I had to keep my sexual experiences a secret.

These days, I know better (and I also date more respectful men) – but, while I no longer feel awkward about my so-called ‘body count’, I still won’t share how many sexual partners I’ve had.

Firstly, I’ve realised that nothing good ever comes from this conversation.

You see, it doesn’t matter what the figure is, because the other person isn’t actually asking you how much sex you’ve had.

In reality, they are – consciously or subconsciously – collecting information to assign a value to your sexual habits and trying to find out if your experiences align with their own.

I still won’t share how many sexual partners I’ve had (Picture: Almara Abgarian)

As a woman, this type of situation is extra tricky because our patriarchal society likes to dictate what we do in the bedroom.

And it gets even more difficult if, like me, you’ve had a lot of sexual partners. 

(Side note: ‘a lot’ means different things to different people, so for the sake of my argument, let’s say it’s above the global average, which is nine lovers in a lifetime). 

An ex of mine was adamant about knowing this detail. When I finally told him, it backfired spectacularly – because his figure was lower than mine.

While he didn’t say it out loud, it became clear that my experiences bothered him. 

Insecurity is understandable and we should always be sensitive to other people’s feelings but in my situation, this ex suddenly began acting jealous whenever I spoke to another man, even if it was just to order drinks at the bar.

My sexual experiences are not my personality (Picture: Almara Abgarian)

This new information had changed his perception of me.

I’ve never been OK with someone telling me what I should or shouldn’t do so, as you can probably guess, this relationship didn’t last.

But it’s not just romantic or sexual partners who changed their view of me – some mates have treated me differently too.

On a night out, one male friend suggested I have sex with one of the other men in our group because ‘he needed a good shag’.

It was incredibly hurtful that he thought my ‘number’ meant I would sleep with anyone, if the offer was good enough.

Which isn’t the case at all. 

I like sex but I choose my sexual partners, I don’t just fall into bed with the first penis I see.

This incident happened when I was in my 20s and I didn’t feel comfortable telling this ‘friend’ off at the time, but I cut ties with him the next day. 

You are so much more than a number (Picture: Almara Abgarian)

Oddly, back then, these experiences spurred me on to share my figure as a point of pride.

It was an act of rebellion. I was a woman in charge of my pleasure and I was tired of society telling me that it was ‘unladylike’ to discuss my sex life.

Why should men get to have all the fun, right?

But, while I had good intentions, this wasn’t a healthy approach.

Because I felt like I had something to prove. I wanted to show those who called me names that I was a ‘proud slut’ and that I could f**k whoever the hell I wanted.

By justifying my sex life, I gave them power over me.

And eventually, part of me began to believe that this number said something about my character – when it really didn’t. 

I’ve had several long-term relationships but I’ve also spent longer and shorter periods as a single woman. And during these periods, I happen to have had a very active sex life.

These are just facts. My sexual experiences are not my personality.

The reasons for how, why and how often we have sex are complicated and personal.

It’s healthy to discuss your sex life with partners. It allows you to get to know each other and it could open doors to experimentation and fulfilling fantasies.

I also champion every person’s right to shagging as much or little as they want.

But there are much more important questions you could ask.

Does your partner value themselves?

Do they demand respect in the bedroom, as well as give it to others?

Are they kind, open-minded and open to hearing your thoughts?

If the answer to these questions is yes, then it really shouldn’t matter if they’ve been intimate with five or 500 people – so long as you’re both being safe and open with each other from a sexual health perspective.

I’m not saying that you can’t share your sexual number but please, don’t feel obligated to do so for anyone else’s benefit.

Or worse, feel that you have to lie or make yourself smaller because your experience doesn’t match the other person’s expectations.

Besides, who gives a crap? Have fun and enjoy your sex life (or lack thereof). 

You are so much more than a number.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

Share your views in the comments below.

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Nothing good ever comes from this conversation.