No Men For Life.

I had a bit of an ordeal this weekend.

I ended up in a situation with four guys talking about women with very little filter. Women they’d slept with. Women they wished they’d slept with. Women their buddies have slept with. Who did what with who and when and most of it in the filthiest language possible.


It’s enough to put a girl off men permanently.

I’ve never heard men speak so candidly about their sexual conquests. It was certainly interesting. It was rather like seeing a car accident- the whole you can’t look away thing.

But how awful to realize that they really do sit around and talk about us in the way we always have feared. How horrific to have witnessed the proof.

And I know for a fact that I have been so discussed. I know because once a guy friend in college told me details about an encounter that he certainly didn’t hear from me.

I’m not saying I don’t Kiss and Tell. Of course I do. I can’t keep my mouth shut about anything. I have three separate blogs. I constantly fling my thoughts out onto an unsuspecting world.

But when women talk about sexual encounters…I know this is sort of clichéd, but it’s more about feelings. How did that make you feel? I’m really happy about this. I really wish I hadn’t done that.

Sometimes we reveal a little too much. Sometimes we, too, can be crude. But I feel that our crudeness is either a celebration of our happiness or a bid for sympathy. It isn’t a mean little triumph.

I don’t ever want to be discussed in that manner. Never. Never again, at least. And there’s only one way I can think of making sure that I’m not. Obviously, I can never even kiss a guy until I’m seriously dating him and we’re both madly in love. And afterwards, I must cut his tongue out. A little Titus Andronicus in the bedroom.