What's your number? No, not that one; the other one – your conquests, notches, lovers. Don't want to share that with the world? Some people, sadly, aren't so discreet.
Legendary lothario Russell Brand has been on The Late, Late Show (a US chat show) boasting about bedding 9 girls in one night back in his single days. If I was Mrs Brand I wouldn't be too happy. Not because he did it – that is his past and she agreed to marry him knowing that – but because he is twiddling his wedding ring and boasting about it.
Although Katy probably likes being the one who has tamed his womanising ways, do you think she enjoys hearing the details?
For most of us, who don't have a late night TV show to broadcast our conquests on or a second autobiography to hash out the details we somehow overlooked in the first, our girlfriends are the only ones who know the ins and outs of all our sordid affairs. But how much does your partner need to know about your past?
You may not have achieved the dizzying heights of Russell's bachelor days but even if your slate is relatively clean, you probably have at least a few blackmarks that you would like to wipe off it. A drunken fumble you would like to forget, or an ill-judged rebound fling that should never have been. But is there ever anything positive – book sales and media image aside - to be had from sharing your 'number' with your partner?
When I was younger I always insisted on knowing everything – how many, who with, where and when. No doubt my full blown questioning was fuelled by insecurity. On the basis that knowledge is power I believed that somehow, if I knew all the juicy details, I could make sure I was better.
My husband and I have never had that conversation. I know about the important ones and a few more, but I've never asked the number and he has no interest in knowing mine. It wouldn't change anything. I love him whether it is 5 or 105 but I don't need to know. It's irrelevant.
Most of our men are fully aware that they weren't the first and that the white dress was a little bit ironic, but the principle is still the same. This is your partner, the one that you have been saving yourself for – if only figuratively – and the person you plan to spend the rest of your life with. From here on in, those other notches on the bedpost don't exist.
As Katy put it - that's then and this is the future. Though, if I was her, I would remind Russell of that the next time he is heading to a late night talk show.
By: Emma Jayne Jones
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