The Number

About a month ago, when TMI and I took a day trip to Beaune, I asked him his number. I'm at 5. Or.. 6, if we allow it to be complicated by a bit of gray area. He surprised me by responding that he had lost count; accredited to the fact that he was often victim to casual tristes and flirtation that got a bit out of hand. I was a little taken aback by this, maybe even a little jealous or concerned, but probably enjoyed thinking my partner was well liked and well in the game.

Last night, however, as it was the night before he leaves for his three week internship, we got in a little tiff about him not trusting me. He seems fairly convinced that in his absence I'm bound to have sex with anything and everything that moves in Dijon before he gets back. (I think I can partially blame IFFTP for this. If you're not in the know, TMI has found it and, as I for the most part REFUSE to be censored, it's often a strain on our relationship.) Anyway, I was eventually driven to protest that he had had a much more devious history than I. And then, face partially smooshed into his pillow, he said, "no, actually, I lied."

"What? Really? Why? ..well give me a number."

"What like, a real number?"

"..Not a fake one."

"Do I have to count you?"

"No. -Yes. I don't care just tell me."

Turns out, the answer was one. And she had come shortly before TMI and I met. Frankly, I'm shocked. But that would explain a lot. Does it matter? Should it matter? It takes a bit of a transition to go from thinking you were dating someone with one lifestyle only to discover it was one totally the opposite. But who's to say this isn't better? -That it doesn't speak to an honorable character or.. something?

All the same, I put him on the train an hour ago and kissed him sincerely on the platform. Time to stretch my muscles of fidelity for the next 3 weeks; despite my rugged past I plan to put my best foot forward at being faithful.