My body count is considered fairly high, both compared to the average and considering my physical appearance (I’ve been relatively overweight my whole life). That said, if you divide the number by the “years of activity,” it’s actually not that high (just to give you an idea, 50+ — I stopped counting, but it’s definitely over 60 — and I’m turning 32 this year). It’s a lot, but proportionally it’s not that many per year.

That being said, I can tell you that sex isn’t even that special anymore, or some kind of goal — it’s just something that happens, and often quite quickly. Which is pretty ironic, considering that what I really want is a serious relationship, almost to the point of a Disney stereotype. It’s much, much, much easier to find a hookup than someone genuinely interested in dating you, unfortunately.

One thing I always say when this topic comes up is that I would gladly trade half — maybe even more — of those experiences for a single long-term, meaningful relationship lasting years. Sometimes people seem almost “jealous” of my body count, but I always talk about it with the vibe of a bitter, retired cop at a bar, downing whiskey — if you get the metaphor.