In July 2005, I wrote a long post entitled “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and the Right to a Private History”. I wrote about dealing with one’s own — and one’s partner’s — sexual past in a relationship, and the importance of not allowing one’s consciousness to obsess on what one’s current lover has or hasn’t done. I took an especially strong tack against the habit, common among the insecure and the young (particularly, but not exclusively males) of nagging to be told “the number” of previous partners. I wrote:
On the subject of one’s sexual past, I’ve become a great believer that no one should ever ask — or answer — the question “So, how many people have you slept with?” (Let me clarify: I don’t mean one shouldn’t tell one’s good friends — just not one’s partner.) Answering a request to reveal one’s number rarely turns out well, especially for women. For more conservative (and insecure) men, any number higher than “zero” will be too high; whether it’s five or fifty or five hundred, she may pay a high price for answering truthfully! To be fair, some women are also going to be unnerved by what they may regard as an “inappropriately high” number. The only rational response to such a query from a current or prospective partner is a gentle, loving “Tell me why you really want to know, and tell me what you’re going to do with this information once you have it.
I stand by those words today. I wrote in 2005 from the perspective of a man about to be married to his fourth wife, a man with a colorful history and a penchant for frankness who has (nota bene) never come close to disclosing his number on this blog, a site on which he discloses so much else. And I honestly have no idea where my wife’s number stands. And I thought again about that post, and about this topic, because of a comment Antigone made below Monday’s post on kissing:
There is nothing that I’ve done with my husband that I haven’t done with someone else. I don’t have anything that is “For One Person Only”; and yet, I don’t feel like my intimacy with him is lacking in any way.
I think we cross-over too many ideals from property, including rarity makes something more valuable.
That resonated with me yesterday, and got me thinking about the distinction between “rarity” and “exclusivity”. Like most feminists, I’m disgusted by the way in which the abstinence movement employs images of chewed gum or wilted roses to describe a woman with sexual experience. I’m infuriated by the tactic — employed by my fellow Christians who ought to know their New Testament better — of “slut-shaming” by suggesting that a girl or a woman (much less often a man) who has had pre-marital sex has lost her value. We are not cars; we don’t depreciate when driven off the lot. But these tactics work to create anxiety and shame in many young (and not-so-young) people. And these tactics are based on, as Antigone suggests, the misuse of the property model, a model that suggests that the less often something has been handled or used, the more “rarely” it has been seen or touched, the more valuable it is. We no longer treat women as legal property of their husbands, but we do employ property-based thinking when it comes to sex.
In one of Mary Chapin Carpenter’s songs, she sings to a lover, “Though I am not the first, just say I’ll be the last.” I’ve always liked that line, with its casual acceptance of the right to a past — and its hopeful plea for a monogamous relationship going forward. It’s a call for exclusivity for the present and the future, irrespective of what has happened before. I’ve been dating the woman who is now my wife for nearly seven years, we’ve been married for nearly three and a half, and I have no idea where I “rank” on her list. I don’t care who comes on the list before me; I don’t care how many names are there. But believe you me, I would be devastated should my name not be last on that list! It doesn’t matter if I’m number 2 or number 302, what matters is that there not be a number 3 or a 303 while we are wed! Monogamy matters, trust matters, and infidelity is a very real cause for deep hurt and jealousy. But a sensible feminist outlook insists on separating a “justifiable jealousy”, based on a betrayal, from an “indefensible jealousy”, based on insecurity about what a lover did in the past. The former reacts to a violation of a promise of exclusivity; the latter reacts to a violation of a false property right. There’s a huge and important distinction here, one that doesn’t get made often enough.
From that 2005 post:
A true lover can say, “Before there was an ‘us’, there was a ‘you’ and a ‘me’, and I will never use what you did in the past against you. I honor your right to have lived the life you chose to live before we were together, and I ask that you honor my right to my past as well.” True love focuses on the joy of the present and a shared commitment to the future; it seldom dwells on the past. There are times when a focus on the past matters; a history of abuse or molestation can have huge ramifications for one’s future sex life, as can certain sexually-transmitted infections. But with those caveats, I think it’s safe to advise a policy of “Don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t pursue.”
When we marry, we promise each other many things: fidelity, devotion, and a willingness to share all one has. For many of my generation who come to the altar after years and years of “experience”, we perhaps ought to give another kind of pledge: the promise to focus on the future together, not on the past. Real love rejoices in all the things that have made one’s husband or wife who he or she is today, knowing that without those experiences he or she would be a fundamentally different person. But despite the often overwhelming temptation to pry, I’m convinced the wisest course is to acknowledge that there are some things none of us need to know, and we can give our partners and spouses the gift of an uncondemned, unchallenged, unquestioned past.
When I hold my wife in my arms, I know that the person I hold has been shaped by countless experiences. She is growing lovelier each year as she grows older, more radiant, more wise, more kind. The men with whom she shared a life and a bed before she shared mine shaped her too; just as those with whom I shared beds helped to make me who I am. (Much more on that theme here). And while experience is not the only teacher, or even the best teacher, it is not a teacher whose lessons devalue the student. We are richer, my love and I, because of many things. We are rich in each other, but we are also rich because of all of those people who touched us before there was an “us”. To say otherwise is foolish, to say otherwise is unChristian, to say otherwise is to use the hateful language of property to describe sentient, soul-infused creatures who belong only to themselves and to God.
Ah, good topic. I’ve been the target of “indefensible jealousy” and I’ve seen friends be “indefensibly jealous” and my question always is - WHY? What result does that emotion get you? No one can go back and change anything, no matter how upset you get and how much you nag and shame them. It’s happened, it’s over. Those previous lovers aren’t going to erase themselves from history.
I think number-sharing isn’t a good idea, and this stems solely from my personal experiences. I had one boyfriend slut-shame me when my number was 4 (his was zero). I had a later boyfriend call me the “closet thing to a virgin” he knew when my number was 8 (his was 27). And both reactions felt so condescending in ways I still can’t articulate.
Maybe more damaging than number-sharing is experience-sharing - the latter boyfriend I mentioned never shut up about who he did what with. I soon realized he boasted (and possibly exaggerated) because he was insecure as hell, but until I hit that realization, I spent a miserable time wondering why he wasn’t as interested in me as he seemed to be in previous women (I wasn’t jealous, but rather confused at the discrepencies between his sexual relationship with me vs with them).
Obviously I meant “closest” and not “closet”. I apologize for any other misspellings I didn’t catch.
Quality not quantity? ; )
Thank you for this post! I find the idea of talking about past lovers (as if they were numbers that reflected your own self-worth) with either your current or soon-to-be lover so pointless and meaningless. Whenever a guy asks me for either my “number” or how “long ago” the “last number” was, I know that he won’t be one of them. lolz.
If “How many people have you slept with?” was replaced with “When was the last time you were tested for STDs?” the world would be a much safer place.
Word, Haley.
I’ve never understood all those “sex before marriage is like pre-chewed gum” examples. They make it sound as though you should only have sex with your virgin spouse on your wedding night, and after that, you can never have sex with them again because it would be gross and icky.
My boyfriend is still friends with his ex (so naturally I know who she is) and has had other girlfriends before that, but I don’t know how many and, I’m pleased to discover, I don’t really care. He steadfastly avoids discussing his past in any detail.
I am slightly baffled as to why his ex dumped him, because it apparently had to do with her not finding him attractive, and how could anyone stop being attracted to him? (He is skinny and balding with a large nose, and the sexiest man in the entire world.)
I’m currently trying to decide what I believe about pre-marital sex. I know the standard answer, but I’ve never actually heard any scriptural justification for it. It seems to be one of those things that everyone knows and therefore needn’t prove.
I know your view doesn’t coincide with the standard answer, Hugo, and I’m not trying to pass the buck - I just wanted to mention it.
I’ve never had an issue with knowing the number of people my partner has slept with- it just simply doesn’t bother me to either know or not know. If they choose to tell me, great. If not, that’s acceptable as well.
I also don’t mind partners sharing some intimate details about their previous partners, i.e. what they enjoyed, etc.
I would be willing to share this information if I am asked- AND if I am comfortable with their attitude/expectation towards relationships and sexuality. On the other hand, I don’t think I want to be with someone where if they were to find out this information in whatever form, it would become a problem.
I’ve believed that the person I am with now is the product of their prior experiences- you have to accept their past in order to love the person in front of you.
I don’t understand this perspective about not sharing “the number” at all. While I don’t need to know the exact number, I always like to know about my boyfriend’s previous lovers. If someone wouldn’t discuss that with me, or couldn’t handle hearing the same stuff back, I’d have a really hard time. I just don’t connect with this idea at all.
While I’m flattered to have a comment inspire a post, and I agree that people worrying about people’s “past” is silly, I’m probably not a good person to draw from.
While I am practicing monogomy, and Hubby will likely be my “last” I don’t practice it because I feel particularily drawn to it. It’s my husband particular “kink”, not something I feel is necessary. But it is more important to me for him to be able to be free from jealousy and for him to trust me than it is for me to sleep with other people, so I participate in his kink and refrain from sleeping with other people. (Hey, marriage is full of compromises, and this one is not really that big of deal to me.)
I feel my point was still valuable, even in the context of marriage. If Hubby and I were practicing a polyamoric relationship, I do not feel that that intimacy would be reduced in the slightest. This is NOT to be confused with advocating for cheating or betrayal; trust is of an utmost importance in any relationship. It is mere to say that because I love someone, my love for another is not reduced.
Dev: It’s not that I couldn’t handle knowing my partner’s ‘number’. It’s that I don’t care what it is. If he needs to talk, I’ll talk. If he doesn’t, I won’t ask. I’m no more curious about his previous sex life than I am about yours.
I think I - and possible Hugo as well although I may be mistaken there - am suffering from a middle-class bias here. My sensibilities about ‘proper’ topics for conversation lead me to regard questions about people’s relationship histories as rather uncouth. That sort of thing is just Not Done. Their previous sex lives do not include me, and sex that does not include me is Not My Business.
That attitude makes it easier to forego the whole awkward subject.
@ Froth
“I know the standard answer, but I’ve never actually heard any scriptural justification for it”
I know! Thanks, I thought I was the only one who thought that. I think it has something to do with Jesus saying anyone who looks at another with lust in their heart is committing adultery, but that seems to be more to do with objectification…hmm…
Aideen: Well, there’s “Do not commit adultery”, but adultery specifically involves married people being unfaithful. There’s a whole bunch of lists about who you mustn’t sleep with, mostly people you’re related to or who are related to each other (so you mustn’t have sex with both a woman and her daughter, for instance).
(Of course, the mere existence of a list, not just ‘don’t have sex with anyone you’re not married to’, and a list that says ‘don’t have sex with’ rather than ‘don’t marry’, itself raises questions.)
And sexual immorality is often condemned, but not defined.
But I’ve never actually seen or heard preached anything that actually forbade pre-marital sex.
Not only that, I’ve heard a lot of people say that God had a specific intention in mind when he gave us marriage, and that Jesus affirmed that. However, marriage in Jesus’ time was a bit dodgy in my opinion! Like, girls being given as wives at the age of 13 to older men…
I’d only throw in one caveat; it is a really good idea to know if your partner has a history of infidelity, if you’re only interested in a monogamous relationship. People who were chronically unable to maintain a monogamous relationship in their past relationships are often (though not always, of course, Hugo!) a poor bet for monogamy with you in the future; at the very least, I think you should have the ability to make the judgement call about whether or not to proceed forward with all the information made available to you. Otherwise, I totally agree that what you’ve done and with whom and how many are really unimportant.
Lisa, you’re right. The only problem is that all cheating people are liars (they had to do this to cheat), and the last thing they’ll do is to tell you about their history of infidelity. If they are courting you, I mean. Exactly when you want to know. So how does one ask such questions?
You’d be amazed how many people will actually be honest with you about it (generally they’re brimful of excuses or “I wouldn’t be like that with YOU!”s, of course, but at least you do get the facts upon which to base your evaluation). You’re right though in that some won’t and don’t (sigh).
Seconding Dev here, while I agree with the spirit of this post, literally not knowing one’s partner’s sexual history seems weird to me. Certainly it’s destructive and inappropriate to dwell on or obsess about the past, and I’ve experienced the particular discomfort that results from hearing (or sharing) too much detail. But actually not knowing how many people your spouse or (serious, long-term) lover has slept with? I’ve always known that kind of thing about my good friends. It just doesn’t make sense to me not to similarly know one’s lovers, especially because past relationships can have such a big impact on current relationships. It seems to me that being comfortable with a general knowledge of a lover’s history can be an important sign of a confident, committed relationship.
Re: And sexual immorality is often condemned, but not defined.
But I’ve never actually seen or heard preached anything that actually forbade pre-marital sex.
Froth,
if you hold to ‘Sola Scriptura’ then no, there’s nothing that explicitly prohibits pre-marital sex, since it isn’t clear what the definition of ‘porneia’ is. If you believe that sacred tradition is or can be an alternative source of authority, then you are bound to at least respect the fact that the church has historically interpreted ‘porneia’ as subsuming all non-marital intercourse, whether or not you agree with it.
I’m in a somewhat tricky position as I believe in sacred tradition as much as in sacred scripture; I also don’t think that pre-marital sex is always wrong, though I do think things like promiscuity, prostitution, casual sex, etc. are wrong. I think you can hold both those views, though- sacred tradition can be respected and venerated without holding that _every one_ of its teachings was correct and still applicable today, in the letter as well as in the spirit.
Joel and I know names and general information about who we were involved with before each other, but we don’t go into detail about exactly what physical things we did with which person, and I’d feel odd being called on to give a number. Maybe giving names comes to the same thing, for some people, but to me it feels different.
Time was, I’d have been deeply indimidated by the long sexual histories of my lovers. Truth is, while I have no reason to believe I wasn’t my first’s first, most of the women I’ve been with have been much, much more sexually experienced than I. (I’m pretty passive, even timid, so only aggressive women get through to me, as a rule, and I’ve been lucky.)
While I used to brood on the men my lovers had been with in the past, it is only, curiously enough, in my current relationship that I’ve ever been in a situation where we frankly and explicitly discussed our histories before getting physically involved. And we did, in some detail. I can’t speak for others, but I found it curiously freeing. I have considerable experience of considerably experienced women - many (most?) of whom are survivors of abuse. It has taught me volumes. Those who get freaked out by their partners’ past experience are fools. I’ve been one, so I know.
Daisy, I think there’s a difference between knowing the general pattern of someone’s past, and having specific numbers, acts and details. If your partner had a string of one-night stands in their twenties, do you need to know whether that was 10 or 15 people?
My feelings more or less align with Daisy Bond. Not knowing, or not being able to share, “numbers” and other basic information would feel like a lack of trust. But there is still a level of detail about past experiences where I would draw a line. So I don’t think this is a case where we can set up a strict “right to not tell/know” — it’s a matter of negotiation between the partners about what level of detail they’re each comfortable sharing, and the ability to successfully negotiate that in the mid-stages of a relationship is a test of compatibility.
Part of it, for me, is that I don’t feel that I have a “number,” and so, unless there’s some clear context for the question, asking for a “number” feels to me like a weird way of getting whatever basic information you’d want.
(I do, in fact, remember getting asked, at the party where I met Joel, and in his presence, how many people could possibly have given me AIDS; the context was a discussion of AIDS education, and there was some point to be made by getting the answers of the small group that were talking on the couch. My memory is that I answered the question - it had a clear context that made sense to me, was asked by a close friend, and I didn’t mind the other people present hearing the answer. Joel, though, insists that he doesn’t remember that part of the conversation at all. And if anyone at that same party, without any context, had turned to me and simply said, “what’s your number,” I would have declined to answer.)
As for what stage of the relationship you’d ask that sort of thing, I think that people who ask it because they’d reject you if your “number” is too high have an ethical obligation to ask the darn question before they attempt to increment said “number” (by whatever measure they care about), even if it means they pose the question on the first date. Otherwise, it might be OK to share that information later.
Thinking about it, my knee-jerk “but of course you shouldn’t ask!” reaction stems from the norms of sex talk in my social circles - namely, we’re all very British about it and don’t mention sex if we can help it. I don’t know anyone’s number, and so I don’t expect to know my partner’s.
The closest we usually manage to frank discussions of our sexual histories is getting drunk and playing “I have never”.
(Someone says “I have never done x” and some or all of the group respond “I’ll drink to that”, and do. It’s generally understood that if you say or drink to “I have never done x”, you have.)
Lisa KS, but how do you ask that? You can’t ask “btw, have you ever cheated?”, right? How can I ask somebody that question with maximum chances of success (=honest answer)? [I would sever ties, if the answer was positive, but saying that prior to asking seems a bad move].
Actually, you can ask that and really should while you’re discussing entering into your monogamous relationship with that person. Prior to entering into one, there’s no reason to ask, so you don’t have to worry about it sounding awkward or messing things up. If you’re entering into an exclusive type of relationship, it’s a pretty natural question and certainly not over-intrusive at that point. It’s hard to imagine wanting to enter into an exclusive relationship with someone you don’t know well enough and/or aren’t comfortable enough discussing monogamy habits with.
As far as honesty goes, if this person is a relationship con artist and is setting you up for a fall, nothing you say or do is going to elicit the truth. Periodically one meets these kinds of destructive types–it’s just bad luck and impossible to prevent entirely other than swearing off dating altogether. But most people aren’t, and most people will at least give you clues about their past–one real-life example I’ve had was one prospective boyfriend who said Oh, I prefer to be in an exclusive relationship–the one time I did cheat it was because I wanted her to leave me; I’ve had other stories thrown at me (I used to be like that but I’ve changed, I really want to SETTLE DOWN NOW or It isn’t really cheating if you’re not married). You’ll find out that they were not monogamous, generally. Whether or not you believe the attached justifications and want to risk going ahead or not is a total judgement call.
Lisa, I suspect it’s less knowing about possible infidelity than their reaction to the question in the first place. An outraged “How dare you ever suggest I would THINK about cheating?!” tells you quite a bit all by itself.
mythago, may be I am too naive, but can’t an honest person be hurt and start suspecting that I cheated, if I ask such question? People are different, after all.
You mean that such outraged reaction is a sure sign of a cheater, right? Would it be too naïve to think the other person was genuinely hurt by such distrust?
\forgot to add to the previous comment, sorry\
el - we’re talking about a discussion of past sexual history with a partner, not accusations that they’re cheating right now. And sure, an honest person might be offended about being asked, but there’s a difference between “I’m kind of hurt you would think I would do that,” and the kind of mock outrage designed to put the other person on the defensive and shut down any discussion.
I suppose with the reiteration of this topic I’m free to reiterate my own thoughts.
“Like most feminists, I’m disgusted by the way in which the abstinence movement employs images of chewed gum or wilted roses to describe a woman with sexual experience. I’m infuriated by the tactic — employed by my fellow Christians who ought to know their New Testament better — of “slut-shaming” by suggesting that a girl or a woman (much less often a man) who has had pre-marital sex has lost her value.”
I’m certainly with you in the respect that they treat men/boys and women/girls differently, as if it’s perfectly natural for a boy to be playing the field, sexually, whereas girls should remember to say “no.” (As you have noticed many times, it never dawns on them that girls are often just as eager (or perhaps more eager) to engage in sexual relations as (than) the boys. It goes back to the Prageresque alleged “difference between the genders.”
“And these tactics are based on, as Antigone suggests, the misuse of the property model, a model that suggests that the less often something has been handled or used, the more ‘rarely’ it has been seen or touched, the more valuable it is. We no longer treat women as legal property of their husbands, but we do employ property-based thinking when it comes to sex.”
Hugo, Antigone was/is having a back-and-forth with no one on that thread except me, and so it is with distaste that I must ask if you consider me to be arguing for this “women/sex/property” concept. Again, my view is that, often, people with little or no experience in a certain thing — it CAN be sex but it could also mean romantic love, or kissing, or slow-dancing, or whatever — often seek others with the same low level or non-level of experience. Someone who’s never “soul-kissed” someone else might not feel comfortable with someone who’s done that with a hundred people already. That doesn’t mean the first person thinks that there’s something wrong with the second; it means that the first person would like to be remembered fondly as someone else’s first experience in that department — with all the wonderful awkwardness and nervousness that is said to come with it. The first person wouldn’t want to go through something, feel something special, and then be told by the second person that (s)he’s pretty good for a beginner (again, it applies to sex, but to many other things, too.).
Someone here put it beautifully a few years back and I wish I had saved it…something about feeling bad that you have no prior experience at x, y, or z, while the other person has all these experiences, feelings, and stories that don’t involve you.
Bmmg39, you’re going to inspire another post soon — about how to handle a vast discrepancy in experience.
Unless you grew up with that person and married your grade-school sweetheart, that’s going to be true of all kinds of things that have nothing to do with sexuality.
Problem is that we don’t live in a neutral culture, where sexual history is treated just the same for men as for women, and where choosing a less-experienced partner is really no different than a novice skiier going to the slopes with a fellow novice rather than a diamond-slope maven.
And of course there’s always the consideration that whatever your partner did before, they didn’t do it with you. I can understand the apprehension that one’s partner may be jaded or “been there, done that” about experiences that are new and surprising; but “something about feeling bad that you have no prior experience at x, y, or z, while the other person has all these experiences, feelings, and stories that don’t involve you” comes across to me as more than a little creepy. It’s like the argument that a man should marry a virgin because he’ll be the best fuck she’s ever had.
gah. switch gender pronouns on that last sentence. you knew what I meant. :)
I have found this post (and it’s archived inspiration) great food for thought.
Like others have mentioned before me, however, I’m not sure I get the hard line you take on not sharing your “number.” I could maybe understand it if you were coming at it as a challenge to the existence of a “number,” since it privileges a very specific sexual act as the one form of Real Sex TM… But since that’s clearly not it, I’m a bit mystified.
Speaking only for myself, I really wanted to share my “number” (again, I’m ambivalent towards the very concept) with my current partner. As you said, who I’ve been with before–the people who are a part of my past–help shape who I am as a person today. My past is very important to me, as is my partner, and as such I want to share it with him. The converse is true as well: because I care about him, I want to know about his past. I want to know what made him him. My urge to share is grounded in a desire for a fuller intimacy, not petty competition, insecurity, or judgment.
Just as a disclaimer, I’m not saying there aren’t very, very good reasons for NOT sharing–you’ve certainly touched on a few scenarios in which sharing is ultimately detrimental to the well-being of a couple. I suppose I’m just challenging whether this sort of sharing should be written off wholesale.
I don’t take as hard a line against sharing the number as I do about ASKING about the number of one’s partner. “Tell me about some of your past relationships” is an important question, worth asking and answering. “Tell me if you’ve ever been in love before” is often a very worthwhile query. The answers will get you what you might “need” — but the number itself? What’s the point save to get you pigeonholed?
Mythago: “I can understand the apprehension that one’s partner may be jaded or ‘been there, done that’ about experiences that are new and surprising; but ’something about feeling bad that you have no prior experience at x, y, or z, while the other person has all these experiences, feelings, and stories that don’t involve you’ comes across to me as more than a little creepy. It’s like the argument that a man should marry a virgin because he’ll be the best fuck she’s ever had.”
If it strikes you as rather creepy, then the message is getting lost somewhere along the way, because it was the furthest thing from creepy when it left the showroom. I was trying to quote Antigone’s or Lynn’s or Metamanda’s or whoever’s post from a few years ago verbatim, but I more than likely missed.
And “first” need not mean “only.” No one ever said that one’s first love need be one’s last, also. There isn’t some controlling streak in what I wrote that forbids the other person from other experiences later on.
And that’s where the ‘creepy’ comes in. It’s not in wanting to discovery something anew with another person (that’s your Paris analogy); it’s in taking somebody’s past life without you as a personal judgment of some sort. Wanting to experience something shared, together? Not creepy. Wanting to be the first so you have no competition? Sad, at best.
No, Mythago, you’re still not getting this at all. It’s not about judging the other person or stamping out all “competition.”
Some folks above have asked about Biblical approach to sexuality, specifically premarital sex. (Is it pre-marital if one never plans to get married? But I digress).
I recognize that there are many flavors of Christianity, so YMMV in regards to the interpretations on this site: http://www.libchrist.com/bible/contents.html But I thought it might answer questions for some folks, or at least get discussions going for others.
bmmg, I’m not sure why you’re confused. For some people inexperience isn’t about insecurity or competition. For some people it is. I promise you that I didn’t invent the line about ‘then you can be the best fuck she’s ever had’. Why do you feel the need to insist that nobody thinks that way?