When you’re in a new relationship, there are some pieces of information you just have to divulge. Whether or not you have children, whether you’re still married and certainly if you have a disease. But there are a couple of pieces of information that fall into the gray area, like whether or not you should be honest about the number of sexual partners you’ve had. We posed this question to some New Yorkers. See what they had to say.

What about you, do you disclose your number?

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Too often I hear my girlfriend rehash past sexual experiences and they’re missing a few brothers I’m ABSOLUTELY sure she had relations with. Upon inquiring, “Aren’t you missing a few?” I always receive the responses:

“He doesn’t count.”

“I just want to erase him from my memory.”

“Girl you’re tripping.” 

I’m not tripping. I’ve got picture perfect memory. Marcus scooped you from our house, you two went on an “amazing” dinner and dance date, and you arrived the next morning all giggles and smiles. Admit it.

He was no faux hologram sitting in our communal living room. I didn’t imagine his false words, “I think your friend’s a keeper.” There was no waking up from a ridiculous and torrid dream. It was real.

But I understand, wholeheartedly.

I loved and liked a “deletion” once or twice. We were teenagers with extravagant minds and rebellious tendencies. I’d sit on the hood of his car, heat rising beneath my bottom, and smile at him standing on the other side.

“Come here.” He said.

These are the two sultry words that appear in soap operas and hype depictions of love, but in that moment he whispered it. I crossed my penny loafers, fiddled with the tail of my collared shirt, and tried to tuck the giddy nerd back into the deep recesses of my idiosyncrasies.

He said it again.

I teetered on the boundary of youth and womanhood when he walked over to me. He kissed me hard. The pucker of a brother who’d been around the block, but not so often that you’d heard about him. The things I did hear danced near perfection:

Stanford bound.

4.0 GPA.

Favored Kobe.

Free-throw master.

Perfect eyes.

Brown.

Forever.

Ever had someone turn your soul inside out? Someone that has you so caught up that there’s no reality but the one between you. Have him lay his head across your chest and hear your heart beating out of your chest? Smile upwards, at you, like he knows something….

No?

I have.

& then he left.

I’d chatted him up to my friends: He loves me. We’re meant for one another. Our conversations are immaculate.

How could I possibly tell them that Mr. Perfection was gone?

At eighteen, you think it’s all over. After your first heartbreak, it seems that you’ll never find adoration again and you’ll surely perish from wrought or live alone forever.

Wrong.

In order to move on I tucked him where no one could find him. I erased the blue waters of the pier, the awkward walks home, and the spontaneous mirth. As far as I was concerned, he didn’t exist. A few times, friends who remembered him queried, “Whatever happened to…?” I’d disregard them with the wave of a hand, implying he was nothing, and change the topic.

360.

Later on I’d date a similar guy: Ivy League immersed, genuine, and a relentless man. I watched him pack his bags for grad school as I witnessed Mr. Perfection do it years before, for undergrad. I winced at the memory, but hugged and kissed him upon his exit.

He didn’t call the first night.

Nor the second.

My stomach turned.

Déjà vu smiled her deadly grin.

I called him on the third day, “You know, I’ve been here before and if school is going to be where you’ll sow your wild oats and forget about me let me know now.”

He was confused and hurt by my infuriation. He’d been exceptionally busy with the start of classes and was heavy with worry that he wouldn’t succeed.

“Riv, I love you, I was going to call. I’m sorry.”

& he did, he stayed.

This is when I had to realize that my past was never really eradicated. It was a buried burden waiting to arise upon reflection. The only way I could be sure that I’d never parallel my hurt to someone from an entirely different situation was to confront it.

He was there.

I loved him.

He might have loved me.

That doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I’ve learned.

I’ve gained the knowledge that every love isn’t meant to be and some men are only meant for increments of the heart. You can’t give it all away. This was a valuable lesson, it empowered me to slow down all future endeavors and make sure he was worth every moment. I embody that value and I should have worn it with pride.

Undelete.

Women try to erase men from their past to reduce their “number,” forget they’ve been wronged, or hope to maintain their insincere innocence.

Preposterous.

We are comprised of our gaffes and distresses. Those occurrences have molded the people we’ve grown to be. Embrace your scars. Show the world that you are wounded and broken, but you mend everyday.

Word(s).

“RivaFlowz” is a teacher and professional writer living in New York City. You can follow her on Twitter: @rivaflowz.

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With the advent of “The Pill”, increased gender equality and the hypersexualization of the media is today’s woman more likely to think and behave like a man when it comes to her sexual relationships?

Check out what a writer over at Your Tango.com has to say about this phenomenon.

Last week we discussed sex on the first night and I was clear in stating that it should not be a weekly occurrence so now let’s discuss how many is too many. Yes I’m talking about sexual partners! Let’s start off with a simple analogy.

A woman goes into a store and wants to buy a dress. She knows that these dresses have been through some things before she got to them.  Depending on the packaging, the retail associates who stocked these dresses might have tossed them around a bit; shoot even the manufacturer may have mishandled the dress a little. However the dress still comes out with minor scrapes and bruises and will look fabulous on you ladies that very same day. But then the dress starts getting tried on by multiple persons, finally a woman too big tries it on and all hell breaks loose.

Now ladies when you walk into that store, you want the dress that has been through the least. This isn’t a thrift shop; you want your dress to sparkle. Well, maybe it’s time that some women start treating their bodies as they would treat a dress. No one wants a worn out, too stretched out dress or woman for that matter.

Bringing us to today’s topic. How many is too many when it comes to sexual partners?

Read the rest of this entry »

When you’re newly in love,  the birds sing sweeter, the sun shines brighter, and every love song reminds you of that wonderful gift of a man. You see the world through rose-colored glasses and nothing can change that, except… time. Once you get past the honeymoon phase you start to notice this man is working your last nerve. In fact, your last nerve quit months ago! Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse you get some troubling news. Should you “Stand By Your Man” like Tammy Wynette or “Keep on Walking” like Ce Ce Penniston? Here are some love dilemmas and how you should handle them.