How much do we really need to know about our man’s past?

Drum roll please… I’m about to ask you the most dreaded question in relationships: what’s your man’s number?

Drum roll please… I’m about to ask you the most dreaded question in relationships: what’s your man’s number? No, not that one, the other one – his conquests, his notches, his lovers.
Whenever I get involved in a new relationship, it’s one of the first questions that runs around in my mind and drives me subsequently mad. Am I going out with a triple figure self-proclaimed stallion? Or an innocent ‘not-in-double-figures-yet’ boy? Has he slept with film stars or porn stars? Who was best in bed? Who does he wish he could ‘do it with’ all over again? You’d have thought after four serious relationships that I would have learnt: asking the question is a sure fire way to send your mind into overdrive. And believe me, I should know. Here’s an example: A boyfriend from a couple of years ago, so proud about his conquests, decided to sit me down and take me through every female he’d ever slept with, in detail: the B-list celeb, the Victoria Secret model, to his teacher from school, his best friend’s little sister, his best friend’s aunty, a well-known fashion designer, one of those girls from Australia’s Next Top Model… the list was not only endless, but also intimidating. Supermodels? Celebrities? What followed were weeks and weeks of self-doubt on my behalf. Were his past conquests better in the bedroom than me? How could my stubby legs compare with that of a supermodel? Was the teacher ‘impressively educated’ in outrageous sexual positions? Did the fashion designer constantly appear in Agent Provocateur get-ups? Did the best friend’s sister look like a sexed-up version of Hermione Granger? My imagination went into overdrive. Suddenly all I could picture was my man (thankfully now my ex) getting hot, sweaty and turned on with a variety of women who weren’t me. I was no longer the only woman to have clawed at his back in mid-orgasmic pleasure, or the only woman to have held him tightly once our sexual antics has subsided. Suddenly, I was just ‘one of many’ or ‘one of the few’ (dependent on the ex). I was no longer just his… I was a number. So, is there ever anything positive to be had from divulging your number to your partner? My current man and I have an agreement – what we don’t know won’t hurt us. Sure, we are both aware of each other’s exes and the fact we are likely to have indulged in the two sheet tango with them, but, aside from that we are both keeping quiet. 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’s five or 505 but I don't need to know. It's irrelevant. So, next time you feel the urge to ask: don’t. No number – no matter how small or how big will make you feel any better. The only number I suggest you focus on is the one with him. Only had sex three times this week? Well, that’s one number worth improving on… and it’s much more fun than counting the notches on his bedpost.