One Lump or Two?

I had my date with J the other night. We went to a bar in his neck of the woods. It was so good to see him again. Yes, he's as cute as I thought he was. He still seems fairly normal. I'm almost certain that he's not an axe murderer or con-man. Just a regular guy. An awfully cute one at that.

As the evening wore on and the drinks loosened us up, inevitably, our conversation turned to s-e-x. I was reminded of a story from my past that I shared with J. Why I shared it, God only knows, but I did.

Many years ago (good lord, 16 years ago to be exact!), I was dating K. I had chased after K for almost a year. We worked together, and from the moment I met him I was in lust (which looking back on it is so weird, seriously, K is not a guy one would lust after). After workin' it for months, finally, I got my man. K was 6 years older than me, which, if you're doing the math means I was 20 and he was 26. He seemed so old and worldly at the time.

We had been dating a few months when one night we had "the conversation". You know the one. The one where you stupidly disclose how many partners you've had. A conversation no woman should have with any man under any circumstances other than in the broadest of terms. "Are you a virgin?" "No." "Any diseases I should know about?" "No." "OK." I mean, in my opinion, this is as much conversation as one should have on this topic.

But back then I did not know this. I was 20 for God's sake. So when K asked, I answered. And I lied. (I brought the number down. I'd had an early start and I at least knew enough to lie.) Well, apparently I didn't bring the number down quite enough for K's liking. The conversation did not go well. I couldn't for the life of me understand why he was so mad. I mean all of it had happened long before I had ever met K. And, I reasoned, the past had made me the woman (ha! at 20?) I was and didn't that mean it was ok?

Apparently not.

K and I survived that night. But we didn't last too much longer. The lesson I learned that night has stayed with me until this day. Unfortunately though, by sharing that story with J I sort of opened a whole new can of worms.

As we were leaving the bar the other night, J asked me "the question". It seems that by sharing the K story I had piqued his curiosity. I was like a deer caught in headlights. I froze. Not knowing what to do, I told him. The truth. (Which you will never get out of me here, I'd like to keep some semblance of privacy, sort of. I think up until now only N knew the real truth.) And, honestly, J seemed ok with it. But of course, now I'm second guessing myself.

So, I'm throwing it out to all 4 of you who read this. Do you tell? And if you do, do you tell the truth? Or do you fudge your number?