This morning I tried to count how many women I’ve slept with. Strangely the total was less than the last time I did this, three years ago. The number should have gone up by one, but instead it went down by three. So that’s four missing women.
This is disturbing, particularly since the total is not so high as to excuse oversights. And what it makes me think is that I should write down the names of the women I currently remember, before I forget them as well.
I picture myself at ninety, in a nursing home, unable to remember a single woman I’ve ever slept with. So I’m ninety and I’m devastated because I believe I’m still a virgin.