Yesterday's names post made me think about my "number." As I understand it, some women obsess about how many people they've slept with.
Not me; I gave up counting after I got past three digits, which was a long, long time ago. In this century, the number would be single-digit; in the last - well, I came of age after the Pill and before AIDS, and curiosity has always been one of my defining attributes. So rather than wonder what might have been, I just went for it.
Some might call that slutty. Not me. I've had rules that minimized hurt to others. I only got pregnant accidentally once, a story I will tell another time. And I've had lots and lots of fun.
My philosophy is, if you look good naked and you have a sensual disposition and an active imagination, why not make the most of those qualities?
Of course, every so often, something will remind me of a person on my mental list (yesterday, it was an ad on the side of a bus for a college that once employed a guy who taught me to play Pong; it was that long ago) and I wonder: what was I thinking? The answer, of course, is that I wasn't.