Body Count

I was sitting here going over my body count. What's a body count, you ask? Well, I'm not an ax murderer or anything, so it has nothing to do with killing folks. It refers to that other kind of slaying that can result in bloodshed, but really shouldn't.

I lost my virginity in college to the love of my life. Before that, I had dabbled in the sexual arts, but never to the point of devirginization. Some of that had to the with the fact that my boyfriend in high school was packing a mean one, and I wanted to have kids and continue life sans a pronounced limp. I hope he never reads this. It would do wonders for his ego and I've heard that he doesn't need any help in that department.

I haven't slept with a lot of guys. In fact, I think my body count is quite low for someone my age. Most women end up sleeping with a few loons, or with a guy whose penis is half the size of their pinkie finger, but I think I've been lucky in that department. If I had to put the list in any discernable order, say, best to worst, I think that I could without reliving any truly traumatic moments. There was, however, the one guy I was dating who kept turning his head from side-to-side during sex to whatever house music beat was playing in his head, and the guy who growled/groaned incessantly, AND the one who couldn't kiss. And the one who sweat buckets. That was kinda gross. Like making love in a tidal wave.

I guess at one point in my life, I was very fascinated with sex because it was something new that I had discovered, and I wanted to do it as much as possible. Nowadays, it's more about quality.

Yes, I realize how corny that sounds, but it's the truth.