NUMB3RS

No, this post isn't about the history-making, record-breaking CBS drama about a genius mathematician and his FBI brother that literally owns the airwaves at 10pm on Fridays (I kid, I kid). However, I will take a second to give a shout-out to that show: While I've only seen you a handful of times, NUMB3RS, I applaud your bold move of making the Jewish guy who played Bernard the Elf in Tim Allen's critically-acclaimed cinematic masterpiece "The Santa Clause," the lead actor on your show. You've come a long way, David Krumholtz.

(This picture's for you, Grey & Red)

This post is about your nuuuumber. Like your real number. Like how many people you've slept with. That's right, I'm pulling out my soapbox. Girls, what I'm here to say is Screw Men. Literally and figuratively I suppose. Despite how far we've come with the Suffragettes, the 60's, Melanie Griffith in "Working Girl," and "Sex and the City" (my personal favorite...though not the movie, that just didn't live up to the hype), somehow we are STILL made to feel ashamed about s-e-x by m-e-n. It's time to O-W-N it. But enough with the spelling bee.

Personally, I've always wondered why the number even matters. I don't think I've ever asked anyone that I was in a relationship with how many people they've been with before me (though I do make them get tested...I'm not an idiot). This could be because I like to think of life as a journey. Without the women that came before myself (oooh, dirty double entendre!) "he" wouldn't be where he is now-- with me. Everything leads to something else, yadda yadda yadda, inspirational quote inserted here. Seriously though, every relationship we have, every person we bring into our lives (for friendship or sex or anything else) brings us a little closer to who we are becoming.

I spent more than the majority of the last year of my life with a man who always felt insecure about the number of men I'd been with before him. Very often he would make comments about my "past" or say he would wonder if he could trust me or he didn't know what kind of person I was or I gave a bad impression of myself to him in the beginning of our relationship. I felt like I was constantly defending myself, offering my life up as an open book, and ultimately yelling at him to see reason-- only the yelling at did he actually deserve, everything else was me being too nice. The best part about this whole sordid affair? HE NEVER ASKED MY NUMBER! He just decided, straight-away, that it was probably most likely to possibly be something that could perhaps make him uncomfortable were he to know it. Then, in the end, he was the one that wound up sleeping with someone else (and yes Ross, I know we were on a break, but it was hardly a week in and I didn't even kiss anyone else).

(Who else kinda wants to smack this stupid grin off of David's face?)

And it's not just me. Almost all of my friends have been with someone who has had a problem with their number. Shockingly low? Uh-oh, she totally wants a relationship. Too high? She's a slut. She's taking too long to sleep with me, I'm loosing interest. She slept with me too fast, now she's definitely a slut. And real life isn't Goldi Locks girls, there's no such thing here as "just right."

I'm not gonna lie...the numbers game is usually a deciding factor in ending the relationship. Why should anyone be with someone who doesn't make them feel good about themselves ALL OF THE TIME? What I say is that if you don't have a problem with it, how dare anyone else? I know that I'll never be with someone again who doesn't make me feel 100%, 100% of the time.

One friend of mine was sitting around with her boyfriend one night and he looked at her and asked "So how many people have you been with? Like 10?" She looked up at him and replied "Yeah...times like three." He started to balk and she said "Hey, if you're not complaining in there," and motioned to the bedroom, "I don't want to hear you complaining out here." You know what? He hasn't brought it up since.

That is because a Real Man is secure with himself and his relationship with you. An RM would never make you feel inferior or self-conscious or ashamed. It's time we start being Real Women. By no means am I advocating sleeping around (and if you do, do it safely please...wrap it up), but I am saying that we need to own our sexuality. Like one of my wise, wise friends says, "Everyone else is just jealous that they didn't have as much fun as we did!" So embrace your number, own it, write it on a piece of paper and whether its 4 or 40 or 4,000, pin it to your chest, smile, and shout out "screw men!" And mean it.