3 Reasons Why You Should NEVER Reveal Your Body Count to a Man

In today’s world, where personal secrets are often an open book, there’s one chapter women are constantly pressured to read aloud – their sexual history. The ‘body count’ debate isn’t just a hot topic. It’s a full-blown crusade, steeped in judgment and rife with double standards. Far from being a mere trend, this obsession has morphed into a relentless campaign in the arena of modern dating. The push for women to spill their intimate pasts is everywhere, from heated podcast arguments to the relentless whirlwind of social media and Reddit controversies. This relentless fixation on a woman’s ‘number’ has insidiously entangled itself in the very fabric of dating culture, often at the expense of truly meaningful relationship dynamics.

This topic isn’t just a numbers game either. It’s a battle for privacy, respect, and the dismantling of archaic societal norms. As we tackle the reasons why women should fiercely protect this information, we’re not only challenging personal biases but taking a sledgehammer to widespread cultural misconceptions. This is about drawing a line in the sand for personal autonomy, pushing back against a world that’s all too eager to pry into intimate details. I know this take might ruffle some feathers, but after numerous conversations and reflections, I stand firm on it. We’re here to shatter the myths and expose the raw truth: your ‘body count’ is a private matter, and it’s time that’s respected unequivocally.

Reason 1: He (Likely) Won’t Believe You

Ever noticed how, when it comes to the notorious body count question, women are in a bit of a lose-lose situation? Say a number that’s too low, and you’re not being truthful. Go too high, and you’re suddenly the talk of the town. It’s like playing a game where the rules change every time you’re about to score a point. Annoying, right?

Here’s the thing. Skepticism is the unwelcome side dish served alongside a woman’s response. It’s as if there’s a ‘correct’ number that exists in some unwritten rule book, and anything outside of that is up for debate. Meanwhile, guys often don’t face the same interrogation. If they have a high number, they’re just being, well, guys. But if a woman has a similar history, suddenly it’s a chapter from a scandalous novel. Talk about double standards.

And let’s address this excuse, real quick,  that it’s okay for men to have a high body count because it’s ‘harder for them to get laid’ and thus, an ‘achievement.’ This is nothing but a flimsy justification that undervalues women’s choices while glorifying men’s.

In this video, content creator Will Hitchins brilliantly dismantles the double standard narrative. He responds to a clip where a man blatantly declares that high body counts are unacceptable for women but tries to justify them for men. Hitchins’ rebuttal is a masterclass in calling out this hypocrisy.

 

 

It’s high time we reject this outdated mindset and recognize that sexual encounters should be viewed through a lens of mutual respect, not as a scorecard.

This skepticism isn’t just annoying. It can actually break down trust and communication in a relationship. Imagine constantly feeling like you have to defend your past or justify your choices. That’s not just exhausting. It’s like building a house on a foundation of quicksand. Relationships are supposed to be built on trust, not on a tally of who you’ve been with before.

So, when you think about it, why bother answering that question at all? Chances are, the response you give might not even be taken at face value. And frankly, that’s a conversation no one needs to have on repeat.

Reason 2: Many Men Can’t Handle the Truth

When it comes to the big reveal of your ‘body count,’ it’s like opening Pandora’s Box. You might think honesty is the best policy, but sometimes, it just leads to a whole lot of drama you didn’t sign up for.

Take, for instance, someone I’ve worked with previously. She came to me, troubled and confused, after an intimate conversation with her boyfriend took a nosedive. They were discussing past sexual histories, and when she answered his question about how many men she’d been with, it opened a can of worms. Her honesty turned into an ongoing argument, and from then on, he bombarded her with a deluge of questions about her past and the nature of each experience.

This wasn’t just about curiosity. It was a manifestation of deep-seated insecurity and a bruised ego, a classic case of competition anxiety at its worst. He couldn’t handle the idea of not being the only significant one in her life. This obsessive need for information and reassurance stemmed from his insecurities. Every detail he learned seemed to threaten his self-image and the perceived uniqueness of their relationship. It was a vicious cycle. The more he knew, the more his insecurity grew.

Their relationship, which once seemed strong and promising, began to crumble under the weight of his incessant questioning. Trust eroded, replaced by suspicion and resentment. Ironically, the very thing he sought, understanding and closeness, became the wedge that drove them apart.

It’s a delicate balance, navigating the line between honesty and privacy. Sometimes, full disclosure can do more harm than good. In a nutshell, sometimes keeping the lid on your sexual history is less about secrecy and more about preserving the sanity of your relationship. After all, your past is just that – past.

Reason 3: It’s None of His Damn Business

You read that right.  It’s simply none of his goddamn business. Your sexual history is yours and yours alone. It’s high time we stress the importance of autonomy and privacy in a woman’s life. Think about it. Would you ask him for a detailed report of every woman he’s ever kissed? Probably not, because that’s his business, just like your past is yours.

Sexual history is a personal matter, not an open book for public scrutiny. It’s not a measure of worth, morals, or anything else for that matter. You’re not a car where someone checks under the hood and kicks the tires before driving –  as much as some men love comparing women to cars. You’re a person with a past, present, and future, and that past is a no-trespassing zone unless you willingly decide to share it.

This whole idea that a partner has a right to know everything about your past – well, it’s outdated and frankly, a bit intrusive, and I believe it’s important to call it as as such. Relationships are built on respect and trust, not on a dossier of your romantic history. Much like a personal diary, some things are just private, and that’s perfectly okay.

In essence, your ‘body count’ is a part of who you were, not who you are. And if someone can’t respect that boundary, then maybe they’re not the right person to share your now with.

But Ash, what about transparency?

Now, some argue that revealing your sexual history is a hallmark of honesty. But I believe there’s a massive difference between transparency and handing over a portfolio of your past. Transparency is about the present and future, not a forensic audit of who you’ve been with.

Being forthright with your partner is important, sure. But does that mean detailing every romantic encounter? Absolutely not. Authentic transparency is about sharing your values, your health, your boundaries – the elements that genuinely shape the relationship you’re building together. We’re talking about the here and now, not a scorecard of your past.

Pushing the notion that transparency equates to disclosing your ‘body count’ is not only flawed, it’s a dangerous precedent. Often, this call for ‘complete transparency’ is less about building trust and more about passing judgment. It’s critical we recognize this for what it is – a thinly veiled attempt to control and categorize under the guise of openness.

So, when we talk about transparency, remember it’s about meaningful, relevant sharing that fosters respect and understanding, not an invasive probe into your personal history. You are under no obligation to reveal your sexual history unless you choose to, and anyone worth your time will respect that boundary. Transparency is important, but it’s about the substance of your character and the honesty in your actions, not the ghosts of your romantic past.

But…but…what about STIs?

Now, there’s an argument that often comes up in this debate: the concern about STIs (Sexually Transmitted Infections). Some might say, “Well, doesn’t a man have the right to know a woman’s body count to assess the risk of STIs?” It’s a fair point to bring up health concerns, but let’s dissect this a bit.

First off, everyone has the right to be concerned about their partner’s sexual health,  that’s a given. It’s important and responsible thing to be concerned about. However, conflating sexual health with sexual history is where things get murky. Asking for an STI screening is a straightforward, medically relevant request. It’s about ensuring the health and safety of both partners, and it’s a conversation that can be had respectfully and sensitively.

On the flip side, asking someone how many people they’ve slept with veers into a different territory. This question doesn’t provide any concrete information about a person’s current health status. STI risk is not directly proportional to the number of sexual partners someone has had. Safe sex practices, regular screenings, and overall awareness play a much more significant role.

So if the concern is about STIs, the conversation should focus on getting tested and sharing recent STI screening results. It’s a responsible approach that respects both partners’ privacy and dignity. Remember, your sexual health is a matter of current facts, not past figures.

By separating these two conversations,  one about health and the other about history,  we can approach relationships with more understanding and less judgment. It’s all about having the right conversation, for the right reasons.

Bottom Line

Let me be crystal clear about one thing. The very act of inquiring about a woman’s body count is not just invasive, it’s inherently disrespectful. Throughout my 16 years in a healthy, loving relationship, the topic of body count has never been a cornerstone of our trust or commitment.  Why? Contrary to what many less experienced online voices might claim, my relationship’s strength and longevity have nothing to do with a number but everything to do with mutual respect, trust, and understanding.

This question isn’t rooted in curiosity or concern.  It’s a tool for judgment and shame, plain and simple. When someone asks a woman to reveal her number of sexual partners, they’re not seeking understanding, they’re seeking ammunition. It’s a loaded question, and IT WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU.

Even though these invasive queries have no place in a society striving for equality and respect, a woman’s choice to share, or not share, is hers alone and should be met with the same respect. The journey towards a more enlightened approach to relationships and personal history starts with rejecting these demeaning and irrelevant interrogations. Remember, a woman’s worth and dignity are not determined by a number, and it’s high time we all acknowledged that.

Until next time,

Ash Pariseau

 

26 Comments

  1. Women absolutely deserve to be as secretive about their body count as they want to be. It is 100% their choice. But there are consequences to making that choice:

    #1 it is a poor strategy to conceal something so fundamental about yourself. If a woman is wanting to marry someone or be in a LTR and she feels that in order to force compatibility that she needs to lie about or conceal her past, then she is doing herself a great disservice. She should be with someone who appreciates her past as part of who she is now, not something to hide from. If she has 100 bodies in her past, she really needs to be with someone who appreciates that about her and welcomes her experience. There are plenty of men out there who would appreciate that. Lying by omission to someone who doesn’t want to marry an experienced woman is not going to work out long term. The truth always comes out one way or another. And later is always worse than coming out sooner.

    #2 I have been married for longer than you have likely been alive. Back in my dating days, I would date anyone with any body count, it didn’t matter to me. But anyone that refused to be vulnerable enough with their body count to tell me, would not be marriage material. Why should I marry someone, and risk getting taken to the cleaners in divorce court over someone who feels like they have to keep their past a secret? No way. Keeping secrets is not how long term compatibility is achieved. And if she has to lie or hide who she really is from me, there is no possibility of compatibility. And If she is hiding this info, what other info is she hiding from me that might come out later and ruin the marriage? Bottom line: if she can’t trust me with body count, then I can’t trust her enough to marry.

    And let’s not gender the body count issue. Body count issues always seems to be laid at the feet of men. But I can tell you quite confidently that women are just as ICK-ed out at men’s high body counts as men are women’s. Most women want nothing to do with a man who has too many bodies. They don’t want to be with a player. This is not something exclusive to men.

    • Thank you for your insights. I want to clarify that the stance I take is not about lying or being secretive. If someone has had 50 past sexual partners, it’s not about falsely claiming it’s 5. The focus of my article is on the choice to disclose or not disclose one’s sexual history and the reasons why this might not be necessary for a healthy relationship.

      Compatibility is measured by shared values, respect, emotional connection, and how two people relate to each other in the present. The idea that the truth always comes out in terms of body count is not one I’d say is necessarily accurate. There’s no definitive way to know a person’s sexual history unless they choose to share it.

      I do agree that in a relationship, it’s reasonable to desire a partner who is loyal and not a player. However, discerning this doesn’t necessarily require knowing their body count. There are more effective ways to understand someone’s approach to relationships and fidelity. Observing their current behavior, understanding their values, and seeing how they engage in the relationship are far more telling than a number.

  2. This is something that I never bother asking women about and TBH don’t even want to know as a general rule. I don’t like women asking about mine either. To me that’s a sign of jealousy and something potentially toxic. I’ve had girlfriends who would nag me until I talked about them then get infuriated that I hadn’t completely forgotten them. Needless to say, those didn’t last long.

  3. Totally with you on this one, Ash. Going into detail of past hookups or relationships usually ends up being a mess. Few folks can even handle that kind of info without it turning sour.

    Besides I’ve always felt a bit iffy about someone who even wants to dive into your sexual history. More often than not it feels like they’ve got some ulterior motive and that’s a red flag in my book.

    • The reason why I would like to know a woman’s past, is to determine if she’s going to be a suitable life partner. No ulterior motive, other than wanting a decent woman for a wife. The higher her body count, the less likely I am to pursue her further. A man needs to protect his paternity. That’s biology, that’s nature. Be grateful that human males don’t slaughter the children of our competitors like other species. We just abandon them instead.

  4. I can tell you with utmost certainty after dating post-divorce in my mid thirties for a while that body count is the number one indicator of a woman’s discretionary thinking ability, mental health, value of herself, morals, ability to be responsible and accountable, ability to resist harmful temptations, ability to be a proper example for daughters, etc. Telling women to not disclose their body count is a deceptive measure as you would harshly judge any man telling men to omit information about themselves or their past. I would recommend you doing some deep soul searching to help you discover the source of your acceptance of deception via omission vs encouraging women to make better choices and also encouraging them to be accountable for past, present, and future decisions. Your own victim mentality programmed into you be society and the media since birth is causing you to honestly believe women can’t make mistakes and if they do they should celebrate. This is every reason men have quit dating women these days and why dumbass articles like this are being written. Ultimately, you’re encouragement of this extremely poor decision will not stop any of us from continuing to walk away from disagreeable body counts and that includes those that are not disclosed. The game is not going to change, we aren’t going to change, and realistically the only thing that has changed is your sudden inability/unwillingness to hold yourselves accountable for your choices and actions. I think the female obesity crisis in America being celebrated is a perfect example of this. Good luck out there. Honestly I think American women are too far gone and your all fucked (ironic choice of words I know).

    • Hi Eric,

      Let’s get one thing straight. The idea that a woman’s body count is some grand indicator of her mental health, morals, or value is simplistic and quite frankly, way off base. There’s no scientific or medical leg to stand on here. If you’ve got legit research or data to back this up, I’d love to see it.

      Now, about being deceptive versus keeping some cards close to your chest, there’s a big difference. When we say women shouldn’t reveal all on their sexual history, it’s not in an effort to deceive. It’s about a fundamental right to privacy. No one is entitled to a rundown of a woman’s past, and I stand firm in encouraging women to draw this line in the sand, loud and clear.

      As for deal breakers, everyone’s got them, and that’s totally okay. If a woman’s sexual past is a deal breaker for someone, they can show themselves the door. But here’s a piece of free advice for the ladies: keep an eye out for guys who get hung up on your sexual history. It says more about them than it does about you. But in case there’s any confused for you, Eric, know that I’m not interested in changing anyone.

      Everyone makes mistakes. That’s human. But no woman should ever be judged or shamed for her past, especially not for her sexual history. If that’s their end goal then a woman shouldn’t be with him. A woman’s worth isn’t a number on some guy’s checklist. In my own experience, steering clear of men with these outdated mindsets has been key to finding true, meaningful connections. I encourage other women to do the same and find someone who values you for who you are today, not for a number that’s none of their business in the first place.

      The obesity crisis is indeed a complex issue and certainly not gender specific. Using it to make a point about women’s accountability or lack thereof is a gross oversimplification of a nuanced health problem. Such statements detract from the constructive conversation about personal responsibility and health.

      The focus of my article is on empowering women to make choices that are right for them, without shame or apology. But I understand why those interested in shaming women in hopes they bend over backwards to apologize and compensate for it… don’t like what I’m saying.

  5. All the arguments in the world that men shouldn’t care about body count isn’t going to change the fact that many do, in fact, care. This is their right. It’s something that also matters to a lot of women, as evidenced by r/retroactivejealousy on reddit. All the rational argumentation in the world isn’t going to change this fact. If your partner doesn’t like – or trust – your stated body count, then move on.

    • This article has nothing to do with arguing that men shouldn’t care about body count. I’m not interested in trying to convince men of anything. My aim is warn women against the men who have a weird preoccupation about body count because it’s still a huge red flag.

  6. As a man, I enjoyed this article and agree with nearly all of it. There is more complexity in why this discussion is so challenging for male/female couples. And it isn’t just because some men are jealous, insecure, or petty.

    I am in a happy marriage and I have no idea what my wife’s body count is. It could be 15, it could be 150. I honestly don’t know and have no aspirations to ask.

    But you know who does know? Her closest circle of female friends. And because these women share a lot with their male partners, there are guys out there who know my wife’s body count. I’ve been in social settings where stories about my wife’s sexual past have come up, where everybody in the room already knew that story except me—the person who is married to her. These are usually harmless or silly events that aren’t upsetting in themselves, but I have to admit it’s very strange being the only member of a club that had no idea about her past. My wife is very comfortable sharing a lot of personal experiences with these friends, but she would never share them with me.

    It creates a strange dynamic. Unless my wife wants to share anything about her past, I have no way of knowing these things about her. And, as your article mentions, it’s generally not helpful to ask. Yet, because she’s open with friends, there is a circle of people who have intimate knowledge about her life that I don’t.

    I don’t think that my situation is unique for men. It creates a feeling of “outsider”-ness with my own wife, and that exclusion can feel very heavy at times. It’s not jealousy or judgement. Any reasonable person knows that their partner will share exclusive personal information with their close friends, fair enough. In my case, my wife is pretty much an open book on her sexuality except with… me.

    I don’t have any profound solutions or insights, other than it puts my own self-confidence in limbo at times. And when I let my thoughts sprial, it can begin to feel like I don’t really know my wife, certainly not as much as others. If the tables were turned, I would welcome my wife asking questions about my past. However, she seems to have little to no interest and never asks about any of my own experiences and has shown next-to-no interest in things I’ve shared voluntarily. In that sense, her mind is in the present and future, which seems like the healthy place to be, but with all things so personal, there is another side to it.

    Those emotions can be challenging to resolve, since I can’t really talk about them with the person I’m closest to in this world—my wife.

  7. This is an interesting article that presents some strong arguments. However, I don’t agree with much.

    Men and women value the same things differently. While I do find a man that has been promiscuous demanding non-promiscuity in a woman ridiculous, a man should ask about a woman’s history. And that is not invasive or disrespectful. If he has some weird fixation that stems from insecurities and inadequacies, then perhaps he is not right for her. But he is not wrong for wanting to know about her, but a woman is not the sum of her sexual partners.

    I’ve had 6 real girlfriends. 5 talked about marriage, and 4 asked about my LOVE history (there was none before the first). They wanted to know how many sexual partners, but they wanted to know more about how many women I said “I love you to,” did I want to marry any of them, was I in love, have you done this romantic thing for others, etc.

    I am happily married to the sixth girlfriend, who feels special and unique. I’ve done things for her (such as sing to her) that I’ve never done for others. She is the only love of my life. She asked me the questions above because she wanted to know that I was not giving my love away easily. That it wasn’t devalued. That is why I wanted to know she wasn’t promiscuous with a “my number doesn’t matter” attitude. Does she devalue giving herself to a man? She has had more partners than the average person, but I trust her sense of respect for herself that she didn’t let her sex become the cheap and easy thing she didn’t want my love to be. I didn’t give her an inquisition, but I also wanted honesty in the limited questions I asked.

    Your past matters. Do things like a past inability to commit to a relationship matter to a future girlfriend? Yes. A woman’s sexual history matters. However, I advise men not to pain shop if you have a more experienced woman. Instead, ask yourself can you look past it, and are there things you can share together that will help you bond in ways that are unique. Don’t expect her to apologize for her past, but a man has every right to ask “why am I special,” and “because I’m with you” isn’t enough.

    • Hi IR, thank you for commenting. I understand where you’re coming from about values. Let’s just not forget the fine line between understanding and judging. When we start probing into someone’s sexual history, are we really seeking to understand, or are we veering towards judgment? I believe focusing on someone’s values and emotional journey offers more insight into a person than their sexual past.

      Knowing about someone’s past relationships can provide insight into their emotional maturity. However, emotional history and sexual history are apples and oranges. What truly matters is how these experiences have shaped a person’s current values and their approach to the current relationship. We all want to feel special and unique. But I believe it’s the experiences… the laughs, the tears, and the growth together that make a relationship special. These are the things that can’t be quantified or compared.

      Our pasts are a part of who we are. But should it be the cornerstone upon which we build our relationships? I believe that current compatibility and values hold more weight than what one did in their past.

      Honesty is the backbone of any strong relationship, but context is also important. Total transparency doesn’t necessarily mean handing over a detailed report of everything we’ve ever done. I hear you and respect your perspective, I stand by the idea that a person’s sexual history should not be the litmus test for the value or potential of a relationship. We should cherish the present and build for the future, and respect each other’s past just as it is, the past.

  8. He has a right to know if he’s considering entering a relationship with her. I don’t see how it’s possible to sleep around when single and then turn it off to be monogamous in a relationship.

    • When it comes down to it, the most important bit anyone should be concerned about is health risks. Thats something both people should be transparent about.

      Being single and then deciding to be monogamous is totally doable. It’s not like an on/off switch. Monogamy is a choice. When someone decides they want to be monogamous, it’s because they’ve found someone they genuinely want to commit to. The past is the past, and what really matters is the decision to be with each other now. Life’s full of choices, and monogamy is one of them, not a hard-wired setting that can’t be changed.

      So, yeah it’s entirely possible to live one way when you’re single and then choose a different path when you’re in a relationship. It’s all about where you’re at in life and what you want moving forward.

  9. Again, your article completely misses the point. Yes, women are absolutely free to withhold their “body count” from their romantic partner. But the question that matters is: does body count play a role in women’s ability to fulfill their romantic aspirations and, if so, what can we do about it as a society?

    The answer to the first part of that question is yes, body count absolutely affects a woman’s ability to enter and remain in a fulfilling romantic enterprise in the long term. There have been numerous neuroscientific studies showing how pre-marital “promiscuity” significantly decreases a woman’s ability to pair bond with future sexual partners, which have more recently been supplemented by statistical evidence showing a direct correlation between body counts and rates of cheating or woman-initiated divorces.

    To me, that’s plenty enough reason for men to care and enquire about their prospective life partner’s body count. And, in any event, following your own logic, if it should be none of a man’s business what your body count is, why a man would care (and most do) about your body count should be none of yours. I have absolutely no issue accepting that women have—and are entitled to—their own preferences when it comes to prospective life partners; it shouldn’t come as a bombshell that the same also applies to men and their own preferences.

    And again, I think the right approach in a healthy society should be to promote honest and open dialogue about the reality of this issue. Certainly not shame men for their preferences or censor scientific, peer-reviewed studies on the subject. It’s about empowering women with tools to help them make well-informed life choices and promoting the notion that freedom of choice does not equate freedom from consequences for one’s choices—no matter how dearly anyone might wish it were the case.

    • Hi Thomas,

      It’s interesting how this conversation often singles out women, when the studies you’re referring to also suggest that the emotional and psychological impacts of sexual behavior are not exclusive to women. Men are also affected in any studies you’ll find on this. Yet, part of our society encourages men to sow their wild oats far and wide.

      The advice to men to increase their body count while simultaneously holding women to a contrasting standard of chastity creates a bit of a math problem doesn’t it. If men are supposed to rack up their numbers…. who are they supposed to be doing that with? Oh yes, that’s right. Women. But believe me, I’ve totally noticed how society puts women into two boxes when it comes to their sexuality: whores and wives. Men are to sleep with whores, and wife up the good girl. But that means that the good girl gets…. a slut of a man, according to their own logic.

      I agree with you that the goal is promoting open and honest dialogue, but I believe that can be done without having to give our partners a scorecard of our bedroom activities.

      • This right here is precisely what I mean when I say that any discussion almost inevitably falls into sterile polarisation. I can’t recount a single time I was able to have a proper exchange about the negative consequences of a high body count for women without the conversation immediately shifting into some “and what about men” rant. And again, we’re back to “is it in women’s interest to disclose”—when what matters is “is it in women’s interest to restrain”—their body count. That logic is completely flawed. Would your advice to smokers be “don’t tell anyone you’re a smoker, it’s no one’s business if you get cancer”; or would you instead educate them about the risks associated with smoking and hope they make the right decision?

        And sure, men are part of the problem, but women are the ones most severely impacted by it. First, the notion that the effects of a high body count are similarly negative for both sexes is incorrect. Sex-induced oxytocin plays a much greater role in female pair bonding (while a reduction in the level of testosterone is the main factor in males’ bonding process).

        Second, the notion that the same upward trend in body count can be observed in both sexes is also incorrect. Only women have experienced across-the-board increase in body count in the recent past. By contrast, a small minority of men (the top 20% considered “most attractive” by women) accounts for virtually the entire increase in men’s average body count, while the remaining 80% has actually experienced a decrease in sexual activity over the same period.

        So yes—because the increase in body count is mostly caused by women and women are those most negatively impacted by it, I think this issue should be approached as a “women problem.”

        • Thomas, I understand your point on “is it in women’s interest to restrain,” but it might not be for the reasons you might think. I believe it’s in women’s best interest to be discerning. That doesn’t necessarily mean the same thing as keeping their body count low. That might sound like I’m splitting hairs, but there’s a piece of logic tucked in here that is important to distinguish. In general, I think it’s good for women to explore their dating and romantic life. That’s part of living, learning, and figuring out what you really want. That doesn’t mean throwing caution to the wind and going for every Tom, Dick, or Harry who shows a bit of interest. But it also doesn’t mean keeping their legs closed simply because that’s what appeases men when they go looking for a wife.

          Sure, there are risks women need to be aware of. STDs, unexpected pregnancies, and ending up forever tied to a guy who wouldn’t know respect if it hit him in the face, let alone be a decent father.

          The kind of restraining we need to talk more about is the kind rooted in self respect and self protection. Women reserve the right to make choices that feel right and safe for them, not because some guy somewhere decided that a woman’s worth is tied to how “untouched” she is.

          We need more convos around women owning their choices, understanding the risks, and exploring their romantic lives confidently. Dragging specific numbers into the equation and fixating on “has she had 2, 10, 20???” simply misses the mark, and that’s what I was begging behind in this article. I want to make it clear that restraining sex needs to be for their sake, their health, and their happiness. Not to tick off some box on a checklist for a guy who’s probably not worth the effort if that’s all he cares about.

  10. I don’t think you’re splitting hairs, but I do think you’re tip toeing around the hard factual truth on the matter. I’m positively surprised to see we seem to agree that “with care and restrain” is be how women should go about selecting their sexual partners. And I agree with you it’s not about a specific number; nor should it be about pleasing any random bloke who might want to run a background check on you.

    Where I strongly disagree with you is when you argue that sexual encounters should be about “exploring”—that’s really bad advice in my opinion. First because exploring one’s own sexuality in no way requires or even benefits from multiplying sexual partners. In fact, the best setting to explore sexuality is in the context of committed relationships where mutual trust and respect exist. That doesn’t mean sexuality is not an important aspect of a relationship; or that “sexual incompatibility” is not a valid cause for breakup. All I’m saying is that, if your desire is to explore your sexuality, multiplying sexual partners is not how you should go about it.

    The second reason “exploring” should not drive decision making when it comes to sexual partners is that it simply goes against the factual reality of the matter. As I’ve recalled in my previous comment, it is a hard proven fact that higher body counts are correlated with significantly decreased chances of entering and remaining in a fulfilling romantic relationship for women. By contrast, not a single study has shown any observable long-term benefits associated with any marginal increase in a woman’s total number of sexual partners (even when that number remains objectively small—eg, from 1 to 2, or 2 to 3, etc.).

    The hypocrisy would be obvious were you to apply that same advice to literally any other aspect of human life. Would you advise kids to “explore” with alcohol and drugs? Of course not—the society-wide consensus is that, although they might be fun short-term, alcohol and drugs have overall negative long-term effects for your health and future well-being. And it would come as a surprise to no one if a reputable law firm turned you down if you spent your early twenties “exploring” instead of getting your law degree. The ability to enter and retain a fulfilling romantic relationship is an aspect of one’s life just as important as their health or career, and there’s simply no valid reason for lowering the bar when it comes to advising on life choices proven directly to affect that ability. Would you disagree with that?

    • I’m not advocating for anyone to go on a partner collecting spree. I want it to be understood that women have diverse needs and desires at different stages of their lives. For some, exploring their sexuality might indeed be best in a committed relationship where trust and respect are the foundations. But for others, variety and experiences with different partners can be a valuable part of understanding themselves, their desires, and what they want in a partner. Some crave variety, and that’s okay. Others find depth and fulfillment in monogamy, and that’s equally okay. The key here is allowing women the autonomy to make those decisions for themselves, free from societal shaming or the pressure to conform to a specific model of sexuality. But as we all know, people will have opinions anyway, and I want to also help women handle that as well.

      Just because there’s a study out there suggesting a correlation between higher body counts and relationship issues doesn’t mean one directly causes the other. There are a myriad of factors at play in any relationship’s success or failure. Communication, compatibility, respect, and yes sexual satisfaction. Also, studies can be biased, and their outcomes can reflect the prejudices or expectations of those conducting them. It’s necessary to question who’s doing these studies, what their motivations might be, and whether they’re considering all variables. Plus, for every study that claims one thing, there’s often another that suggests the complete opposite. It’s not always black and white.

      With your analogy, sex is a consensual act between adults, not substances that chemically alter your brain and can lead to addiction. A better comparison might be trying different hobbies or career paths to see what fits best for you. Let women decide for themselves how to explore their sexuality, give them the support to do it safely, and respect their choices, even if it’s not the choice you think they should make. That’s the bottom line.

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