“What’s your number?” is a question that many of us both dread and answer dishonestly. While it’s an unproved theory, some say that women divide their number of sexual partners by three while men multiply by two, which suddenly turns the question into a math equation rather than a conversation.
Truthfully, within the past two years, I haven’t had the balls to answer this question without hesitation. Something holds me back and makes my throat extra dry, as if I were attempting the saltine cracker challenge 1,854,657 subsequent times.
The second to last time I spoke those three words was the last time I saw “her.” We faced each other with an unbreakable eye contact that could have lasted for days. Her blue eyes shone like flashlights, switching colors as several Milwaukee buildings reflected in her pupils.
It was one of those silent looks that made all the noise in the world. After asking, everything changed. Her way-too-adorable smile instantly disappeared.
My immature double standards kicked in to judge her for a past of which I was not a part. But, who the hell am I to judge a woman based on the number of people with whom she has slept — who the hell is any man to do so? I still struggle to disregard the quantitative value, but I earnestly seek to improve this mentality.
Rocktographer(Live Music Photographer), Motorsports & Beach Sports Photographer, based in Las Vegas & the Beach Cities in California; Website Developer, Food & Drink Photographer, Enthusiast and Critic with No-Sugar-Coating Reviews, Sports Handicapper, etc.
No longer on Facebook, due to being discriminated against for using Fake Names, unlike the 'Drag Queens' of the GLBT Community that are allowed to do so. I urge everyone that reads this to leave Facebook for easier use at ( http://www.TSU.co/SinCityExaminer ) & ( https://plus.google.com/+KevinSinCityExaminer )