If a woman told me on a date that she’d had more than a hundred partners, I’d probably want to ask her to be my girlfriend. That’s the honest version of a preference I’ve never had the nerve to say out loud.
The number would make me more interested. I wouldn’t be sitting there trying to work out whether I could overlook it. In the situation I’m imagining, she could give me an answer she might expect to complicate the date, and I’d be trying to contain my enthusiasm.
Of course, wanting to ask someone to be my girlfriend is easier to imagine than an actual conversation. I haven’t had this exchange. I don’t know exactly what I’d say, or how she’d feel about my response.
What I do know is that I’ve never told my exes, or people I’m interested in, that this appeals to me. I can be quite direct about it in a hypothetical. Put someone I like in front of me, and apparently I lose access to that sentence.
So there’s this private gap between what would attract me and what I’ve been willing to admit. I imagine being delighted by her honesty while keeping this particular piece of my own tucked away.
