The Numbers

Dear Butch,

26.  2.  3.

Those are my numbers.

The numbers that we all want to know about, all being your friends during a drunken night in and your other half (in various levels of seriousness) right before you fuck for the first time.  These marks in our history that we are arbitrarily judge on.  There is no set measurement for what it is too high or too low, you will always be either Mary Ann or Ginger, there is no happy medium.  We gather this data on another and do one of two things (or both): judge and compare.  Both are mentally draining and self-depreciating, either when we tear ourselves apart or build ourselves up.

Next time, before you ask the dreadful “So, what are your stats?” question ask yourself why this information is important.  Is it really vital to know?  And what even qualifies as “sex”, especially when it comes to lady on lady?  Who gets put on the list and who gets left off?  Are names required as proof, or do you just put numbers in the universe and let your audience attempt to tally.

What should matter is not the quantity, but the quality of these sexual experiences.  What was learned, what was gained, what was discovered about myself.  None of this can be measured in numbers.




One thought on “The Numbers

  1. as a beer drinking, definitely visible butch, this breaks my heart. obviously I must be a romantic. there is only one number. the one. sorry that you were in the company of a bunch of drunken idiots. id never let that happen.

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