So, in one of my (rare but) more lucid moments, I got to thinking, how many is too many? Knocking boots partners I mean.
Coz you get to a certain age where you have eaten many Christmases and it’s apparent that you are going to have a ‘history’ so to speak. (p.s. some of us are at the point of no return where you are celebrating fifth annual 25th birthdays instead of for example, your regular old 30th birthday).
At which point do you own up to the fact that not only are you the village bicycle, you are the recycled parts of said village bicycle? Through no fault of your own, of course, there are vast alcohol infused gaps where all the faces just blur into one giant orga…..nic mass.
And furthermore, when you hook up with someone new, does one dare ask what the other’s previous misdemeanours have been? Because that is like walking around blinfolded in some Afghani minefield.
Chances are at best they are going to be economical with the truth, at worst, blow you out of the water by telling you a vicious unpalatable truth that you are not prepared to hear, so eloquently phrased by the inimitable Jack Nicholson… ‘The truth? You can’t handle the truth’.
So my question is, how many IS too many? And when do you stop taking a ‘head’ count?