I won’t lie and say I was surprised to received a message from a former flame while living stateside. Men are like kids; you take away the toy they previously discarded and suddenly they wanna play with it again.
Perhaps he was wondering if we could’ve worked after all, or perhaps he just wanted a homecoming bang, but all I know is that even Casper weren’t that transparent, and he was a fucking ghost. But the conversation took a baffling turn when he asked, “so have you hooked up with anyone out there?”
Well, firstly, is it any of your business, babe? Not that the number was high, but that’s neither here nor there. But, secondly… why?!
I think it’s safe to say that when it comes to discussing other sexual excursions or ex-boyfriends, most of us just don’t want, nor need, to know what our partner has done. Not until you’re in a committed monogamous relationship, anyway. But it seems there are some men that do want to know – and they want all the details.
I feel like they’re the same men that open the ex-files on the first date, and you’re sitting there at the dinner table while he pours his heart out about Kevin, like:
If I wanted to listen to a little bitch whinge about their ex, I’d watch Sex and the City (as I quite frequently do). It’s just really uncouth. You’re obviously not fully absorbing how boss I am if you’re still pining for him. Which, while we’re on the topic, you’re on a date, not having cocktails with your girlfriend at the Dream Hotel. Honestly, whenever a guy starts talking about his ex I just look at my watch – even if I’m not wearing one.
Of course, when you do start dating somebody, further down the line the topic of ex’s does come up. And hearing of your partner’s dating history is part of getting to know them (once they’re head over heels in love with you, obviously). But who is this alien breed of un-entitled men prying into our sex lives?
A similar thing happened about a year ago, I’d been chatting to this guy for some time before we hooked up – once. A few weeks later, he’d been on tour with his rugby mates and I’d been visiting my brother in the Dominican Republic, and he quizzed me, “Did you get lucky out there?”
DiD YoU GeT LuCkY OuT tHeRe?
I felt like a convicted criminal being asked to squat over a mirror, as Loretta snapped her tough love glove around her wrist.
I had no inclination nor desire to know who he’d been shagging on his trip away, where was the need? I couldn’t understand if he was asking from a point of jealousy, or from a point of perversion. Was he expecting my celibacy since our last meeting, or did he just want to get off on the dirty details of me having sex with other men? Perhaps, he just wanted to boast about his own ability to score some D, as he proceeded to tell me, “I did”.
Sorry if I was supposed to care.
If you’re curious to know how into you I am, just ask. If you want to make something exclusive, suggest it. Put your damn UV back light and magnifying glass away.
“Yeah, men do this to me all the time!” my friend Emma revealed, as though – despite her confusion too – it was commonplace. She went on to talk about a guy she’d been seeing for a few weeks, and how he’d quiz her specifically on her bedroom antics with other men.
Albeit, she was a straight woman, and perhaps further down the relationship road than I was with any of these men, but the question still applies. Why? Perhaps he even had marginally more of a right to pry, but until you’ve reached a certain point in your relationship, you’re just reaching.
And it reminded me of this guy I’d began chatting to via Twitter on-off around the same time. There was too many red flags for us to ever eventually meet in person, and one of those was him asking about my sexual exploits (or lack thereof) every single weekend. To the point, where I felt like a fucking nun ‘cause I wasn’t going out and getting laid every week. The weight of my balls was enough, I didn’t need pressure from some next hoe to boot.
It appears that men only ever ask this question for one of two reasons; they want to know whether you’ve been the Madonna or the Whore in their complex, so they can get off on it. If you’re looking for jollies, look in the back pages. If you’re seeking comfort in my peen being padlocked, keep that crazy in your head until we’re exclusive – or at the very least, dating.
Regardless of whether I’ve been bashing one out four times a day ’cause it’s the height of a dry-spell, or spent the weekend being the centerpiece of an orgy – remain in your lane. Part of dating courtesy is that one’s sex life is private, until it revolves exclusively around you.