Illustration by Lo Cole

Ihave slept with 10 to 15 men – on average two or three a year since I became sexually active at 16 – but I’ve stopped counting. I don’t date men who ask me what my “number” is, because that question is only ever asked for the purpose of judging, not trying to get to know me.

Right now, there is one guy with whom I have been having sex for about a year and a half. He is not my boyfriend, but he is my friend. When I met him, I was interested in regular sex with no strings attached: I wanted to hook up with the same person, but I didn’t want to answer to anyone but myself. The sex was and still is easy and fun.

I have been with other men a handful of times since we got together. I slept with two guys on holiday about three months ago. The first was cool and quirky, but the sex was bad. With the second, it looked and felt like “good sex”, and he was respectful and relaxed, but it wasn’t very profound. The regular guy and I have since had a brief conversation about exclusivity, and now that our feelings have been put out there, it’s going to take a lot for me to sleep with anybody else. But I can if I want to.

I’ve learned that sex is an important part of my life. I need it at least a couple times a week, yet it’s a need that, once met, I can leave behind. I’m mainly concerned about my finances, moving out of my parents’ house and my relationships with my friends. But right now, I’m in my guy’s bed while he’s away at work.


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