I’m not the ugliest guy, nor am I the least modest, but due to whatever the circumstances — my lovely blue eyes, my razor sharp wit or my charming smile — I have been blessed with the opportunity to sleep with girls. Many, many girls. I’m not going to give you my laundry list or show you my bedpost (which is notched like a saw), but it’s probably more than you think for a skinny Jewish kid from Long Island. I’m not terribly proud of it, it just happened. The problem is that girls don’t want to know that ranking them in your Top 10 is actually quite a prestigious honor and bragging about prior conquests hasn’t gotten anyone wet since Napoleon with Josephine.

When the question comes up, “How many girls have you slept with?” you’ve reached a potential deal breaker. If you’re a guy whose number is over 30, hell, even if it’s over ten and you tell the truth, you’ve probably experienced the fastest halt to a bedroom foray since the chastity belt. I usually try to find my way around the question; however, there are always the cases where an answer is needed.

“No, no,” I pleaded to a prodding potential hookup when asked for my stats. “Oh, it’s OK, I’m a slut, I’ve slept with a lot of guys, you can tell me, I don’t care ...” (Really? Who says that?) After more urging followed by even more renitence and hesitation I gave in and gave her half of my actual number. Why not test the waters of truthiness?

As soon as the words left my lips she was off of me like she had found out my lap had been pissed on by more drunk freshmen than the A.D. White statue (it hasn’t been). What happened to the understanding? The “I don’t care”? The aforementioned “lot of guys”? Apparently, “a lot” for her was the four guys she had slept with. Having four sexual partners is like having a gallon of milk: Not many people do it one sitting, but plenty of people have had it over time. It’s your choice to sleep with as few or as many people as you want, but having sex with four guys is about as “slutty” as growing up with a bidet in your house. Well, whatever — I can’t even remember her name anyway.

Where do you draw the line? Who knows if that girl with the snaggletooth pounding Kamikaze shots during a Dunbar’s Group Therapy session is going to end up dive-bombing your face next to the popcorn machine? By morning will she be “that girl,” complete with high-fives and fist bumps as you talk about how awesome your game is with the bros (it’s not that awesome)? Or will she hate herself — or you — as she walks past the gawking stares of CTB patrons while wearing last night’s clothes?

No one knows where a hookup is going to take you. The bells might be ringing at Sage Chapel on a Wednesday far into the future of that fateful Group Therapy. So what do you say at the toll booth to Vaginatown when the attendee asks you how many other toll booths you’ve come through on your journey to this one? There’s no EZ Pass for this.

Don’t lie. If she means anything to you, the number of girls you’ve been with before her won’t matter — only how you feel about her will. Tell her this. And be honest about your sexual health. If you are being sexually active you need to be using protection and making sure to get tested regularly. It is your commitment to yourself and however many partners you have to get tested (that was for you, Women’s Resource Center ... please don't hate me!). If you lie about these things, then you’re a bigger douche bag than I am — and there are plenty of people that think I’m a really big douche bag. (Side note: These people suck. Shun them.)

If she wanted to have sex with you, she’ll probably still have sex with you. She might even appreciate a little experience. A close female confidant of mine who I have not had sex with (she wishes) told me any guy can bat a thousand if they only bat once, but batting average means more when you’ve been in the field longer.

If she wants to tie you down, then she probably already had a hunch and brought enough rope. And if she wanted to make you play the part of the bad guy, then she probably already knew the answer and just wanted to hear you say it so you could shoot yourself in the foot and she could shoot you down.

If your Wilt Chamberlain-esque numbers turn a potential one night stand into a nightstand with “happy tissues” on it, then take solace in the fact that two years from now, when trying to compile your anthology of sexual partners, you too probably won’t remember her name.

It doesn’t always have to be that bad. I had a girl storm away in fury, refusing to speak with me, after I told her. Two hours later she was in my bed. And the next day, and the day after that. But if the truth is not an option and you must lie, lie by omission. Hell, I’ve slept with one girl … I’ve also slept with 20 others, but it’s true that I’ve slept with one.

Jeff K. is a senior in the College of Engineering. He may be reached, for sexual encounters or otherwise, at jeffk@cornellsun.com. Come Inside appears alternate Thursdays this semester.