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Everyone should know the number of people they they have had sex with, unless you are TFTC and roll in high school pussy, in which case denial may be your best legal defense. Women guard their number, it is a secret, a sacred reminder that not all love is true, and that poor decisions can be made after too many vod-crans. Men usually don’t give two shits about the moral aspect of love-making, and view getting laid as a competition.
These differences in mindsets mean that men and women will judge their peers differently based on their number of sexual partners. To other women, your number either makes you a prude or a slut with little middle ground. To men, it’s a high score competition, where the Don Juans and the Wilt Chamberlains get bragging rights and antibiotics for their accomplishments.
My list is 100% subjective, but I’m a college student who gets paid to type words, so deal with it. Without further ado, what your number of sexual partners says about you, for both men and women:
Girls: You’re a virgin. More often than not by choice. You’re probably looking for the right guy to lose it to. If you decide that it just can’t wait, I’ve heard that there is some guy in Pennsylvania who will hand you a drink, listen to what you are saying, and then bang you. What a gentleman.
Guys: You’re a virgin. If that’s what you’re going for, good for you. Unfortunately, it probably isn’t though, so hit the gym, maybe? If you are really intent on getting rid of that V-card, bring $800-$1500 (depending on how gross you look) to a strip club, hold it in the air, and announce that you are looking to get some pussy. Apply ice to the areas of your body that were injured when the bouncers threw you out the door.
Girls: You will always remember the guy you lost your virginity to, unless you were blackout. Typically, blackout sex doesn’t count, but if you lose your virginity while blacked out, it totally does. Your first time was probably shitty, because having your cherry popped didn’t feel good and the guy probably didn’t know that you aren’t supposed to repeatedly jam a clitoris like an impatient businessman mashing an elevator button. There was probably some completely unsexy song playing, and it was probably in the back of a minivan next to a bag of hockey equipment. High schoolers are idiots.
Guys: You’ve gotten it in a couple of times, but don’t high five your dick just yet, the first couple times you get laid are real self-esteem boosters, but hitting a homer off of a severely alcoholic, middle-aged Double-A pitcher, who is more concerned about which bat boy his wife is banging, isn’t something to brag about. You also probably sucked in the sack, but at this stage in the game her satisfaction isn’t your problem any more than the safety of other motorists is the concern of a 16-year-old with a newly minted driver’s license.
Girls: Depending on the company you keep, you are probably sitting right around the “golden number” where the negative judgement is the least. You are also starting to lie about your number to more people that your father and your priest. Also, start stocking up on condoms and understand how and when to use Plan B. Pregnancy is no fun for anybody, and babies, while cute, are not frat.
Guys: You’ve been around the block enough to know that when she starts moaning it’s time to full jackhammer and pound the ever-loving shit out of that cooter. You’ve probably also practiced on an Arby’s roast been n’ cheddar enough to the point where you are confident that you can nail the “Tongue Tornado” from American Pie. This moment is pivotal, because if the willing lady didn’t stay 100% on top of being pristine below the belt, you will be forever turned off of munching box, for better or worse. At this stage in the game there’s probably a 50% chance that you been directly involved in at least one real female orgasm.
Girls: There are two main scenarios in this range: You’re either an underclassmen party girl who doesn’t give a fuck, (which will probably come back to bite you in the ass at some point), or you are comfortable with your sexuality to the point where you don’t give a shit what that bitch Jessica thinks, because, honestly, she has a fucked up face. You know that you have value past your vagina, but you still enjoy the occasional sexual outing anyway.
Guys: You’ve finally entered the big leagues now, and you know the positions that do it for her, if you are feeling generous. You’ve also probably had a couple of crazy sex stories that you can tell your buddies, like that one time you were banging Jessica “The Joker” Mitchell behind the bushes when the deaf groundskeeper was in the zone with a pair of hedge-trimmers. At the time it seemed pretty serious, but you’ve learned to laugh about the whole ordeal.
Girls: Whether you like it or not, you probably have a reputation, because to guys the phrase “A gentleman never kisses and tells…” ends with the addendum “…people who aren’t his brothers.” Women who don’t like you will label you a slut, but you don’t need them. You have your cadre of sexually liberal girls that you roll with, and they will stick by your side through thick and thin. It will only become awkward when they all start getting married.
Guys: People know that you’ve got a bit of clout in the bedroom, and probably the bathroom, laundry room, study room, stairwell, other brother’s bedroom, and the third floor of the library. The younger guys may come to you for advice, and you enjoy fucking with their heads. So far you’ve sold Pledge #17 on the philosophy “when attempting to engage in anal sex, the element of surprise must be on your side, and it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”
Girls: You probably haven’t made it to this point by crying after every hookup, or by being bat-shit crazy. Hell, you have probably made a couple of steadfast male friends through your bedroom antics, and have earned the respect of a fraternity or two. There are probably a lot of women out there that don’t like you, but screw those bitches, you give less shits during a walk of shame than you do about their opinion. You hate letting orange juice ruin a good mimosa when you have brunch with the ladies.
Guys: You’ve made a bit of a name for yourself there, haven’t you my friend? The single bachelor life isn’t for everyone, and you toy with the idea of settling down with somebody, but then you chuckle, throw the dame a shacker shirt on her way out, grab another beer, and high five your fish tank.