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I spent the greater part of two weekends ago making a list. It was a particular list, in no particular order, but still I was trying to remember, and write down, the names of all the men I had slept with. Slept with - not as in good night, let’s roll over and call it a day - but the guys who had actually inserted a physical piece of their body into a physical hole in mine.

I’ve remembered almost every one of them, if not by name, then by some other factor, event or distinguishing characteristic. There’s the surprise biggest dick ever, who I like to call the 10 incher (a one night stand that I ran into years later and was like, I know you, we slept together, what’s your name again?), and the friend of my gay friend, and the guy that happened while I was inbetween breaking up, and getting back together, with one of my exes. But those nameless men are few and far between, and thankfully with men I didn’t know I always used protection.

Still, I feel like I haven’t slept with anywhere close to what one might think someone who works in sex might sleep with, although what do you think the number is for someone who talks, writes and directs things about sex?

I’ll give you a hint, without giving my father (who happens to read this blog even though I’ve asked him not too, and even though we have a read at your own risk/don’t ask any questions afterwards policy) a heart attack. I have slept with more than 10 and less than 50, that’s all I will say, which narrows it down by a lot, and gives you another 40 numbers to play with. I don’t know why I tried to write the list, except that I know that I’m not going to have it grow exponentially anymore - even if I’m currently more single than I’ve been in the last five years and I happen to be living in a new city, starting a new life.

Not remembering all the names (or all the guys) had me worried at first, but then I came across Yvonne Fulbright’s Fox News column from yesterday. The title, Sex-Related Amnesia, Can it Happen to You? got me thinking back to my list, and my forgetfulness around some of the penises that have penetrated the pussy that is in my life. I’ve accepted the fact that there are just a few guys that I can’t quite remember. Whether I can’t remember them at all, or remember if we have gone all the way doesn’t matter, I just can’t remember and that is where it’s at. The article’s title made me think that’s what I have!

Yeah, some people might think that’s sad, or strange, but I don’t think so. Those men didn’t mean that much, or I was drunk, or some combination of “a”, “b” and a “c” that I’m not sharing, or caring enough to recall. Or maybe I just forgot, or maybe, maybe I have had this sex-related amnesia that she speaks of.

While the article’s title made me think I had this sex related amnesia, or transient global amnesia as it’s called on a larger scale, after actually reading the article, I definitely don’t.  That stuff seems serious, and while I’m seriously not remembering every detail of every encounter, it’s just the way it is. I’m not alone. There are lots of people who can’t remember everyone, and definitely nobody remembers every time. So what’s the big deal? For me, just trying to remember is good enough. And if the sex was that good, I’d remember, or maybe I wouldn’t and since nothing bad happened after that, I’m sure I’ll be just fine with, or without, remembering that one (two, or three) specific time(s). Sometimes too, it’s better to forget.

More on transient global amnesia