Sitting in the Nerd Control Tower. PD is at the Nerd Control Station, editing videos, while I sit on his couch, an empty glass of Mountain Dew sitting on the steamer trunk at my left, body pillow folded up behind me. The occasional cat jumps on the couch, does a cursory inspection, and leaves.

I was not supposed to be here tonight. He was supposed to be editing, I was supposed to be out in Orange County, visiting my doctor, doing the check up on the HPV that my ex unknowingly donated, then grabbing sushi with an ex-coworker.

So, I get to the doctor's, apologize for the semen leaking out of me (which was an amusing conversation, and for those of you who might be up in arms about my whore-like behavior... a)PD has a vasectomy B)I had PD get tested and give me his results before we did anything and C)I am a whore. Get over it.)

Which led to the question: "So... how many sex partners have you had?"

My response: "This year?" (which is a resounding two)

Then, of course, no, it was how many in my life-time, which is this ballpark estimate between 70-80. She was leaning away from me, so I didn't see her face. I wish I could have.

I, I don't find it particularly shocking. It seems pretty mild to me. Yes, I know it's significantly higher than average. And I know very few women my age who have reached those numbers (the ones I theorize that are in or above that range now are the porn girls I've been meeting recently). It is what it is, though, as redundant as that sounds. I look back at it, shuffle through the memories, and it isn't a high number. I mean, really, think of how many people you meet each week, through work, through going out, through errands, through parties and social groups. We never really think about the level of minimal social interaction we go through on a daily basis.

Then you get someone like me, who travels all over Southern California, who goes out all the time to various different scenes and areas, usually by myself, social exposure is incredibly high. Which is why I usually know someone whenever I wind up at a new party/event. Happened several times at the BDSM party (a few from various club scenes- not too unexpected, and then some random guy I met at a diner months ago). Happened when PD and I went out to that art gallery in downtown.

So she wanted to know, out of pure curiousity, how I racked up those numbers.

I've done this breakdown before:

Sexually active for ten years. Max partner count is probably 80.

That gives me, what, eight partners a year? That's less than one a month. Not extreme at all.

Of course to be fair, then we toss in the monogamous relationships.

So, I've got 1/4 of a year, 3/4 year, 1 1/2 years, 2 years, 1 3/4 years. Not counting the year and change with the ex because that was never spoken monogamy, and I did stray before things became serious, and when we were on an off-cycle. If I'm mathing right (which I'm probably not, if we're being honest), that's 6 1/4 years spent inside of monogamous relationships. Round that down for ease, we're at 6 years, subtract five sex partners.

Four years, 75 sex partners. 18 3/4 sex partners per year. Round up to compensate for that 1/4 year I tossed off earlier.

19 sex partners a year. That's between one and two sex partners a month, seven months with two partners, five months with one.

1 sex partner every nineteen days.

Not bad. And very, very doable. God knows the aspiring PUA out there only wishes to surpass my low "success rate".

So she asks me how I got those numbers and I shrug and tell her it just happened, you know, naturally.

She checked to make sure I had been safe, was going to continue to be safe, etc. She remembered, vaguely, when I came in in 2008, a sore on my clit that turned out to be just a cut from one of Wolfboy's fingernails but thoroughly freaked me out.

I asked about the HPV on her way out the door, curious to know if they could tell me what strain it was. She said they didn't know, just that it fell under the high risk category.

I blinked at her for a moment. This hadn't been mentioned before. When they said they wanted to do a follow-up, I figured it was the basic follow-up. No, they were checking for pre-cancerous cells.

All of my years of slutting it up, I get my only STD from my ex, and it happens to be very likely to give me cervical cancer. Treatment is painful, but since I caught it early, it gives more of a chance for them to scrape and freeze bits of my cervix off instead of simply removing the thing. Parts of the thing. So the cancerous cells don't spread into my uterus, my stomach, my brain, you know, the parts that are somewhat important.

It's a bit of a downer.

Much like the text I just got, asking me if I want to attend E3 tomorrow. Which I would love to... if I wasn't working.

Anyway, I get out of the doctor's office, text PD that I am going to call and cry at him shortly, then call and let him soothe me. Even though he was going to spend this evening editing, he invited me up. So I moved my sushi dinner to a lunch and headed over to Downtown.

A large concern for me is my mother. When the HPV vaccine came out, I was 24 and she insisted that I get it immediately. So I did. She was so concerned that I would pick up HPV and get cervical cancer.

Here I am, vaccinated, yet still managing to catch a high-risk strain. Apparently that .04% or whatever it was of HPV strains that could still be received post-vaccine included this one.

I texted the ex something short, telling him I'd prefer him not to respond to the text, but to be aware that the strain he has, we have, is high risk and to be careful.

Arrived at PD's warehouse. We showered and talked, laughing and teasing each other, touching each other way too much, to the point that we had to push off and let him get to work.

It's so easy being with him. I am... infatuated. Obsessed. Surprised. Caught off guard. Talking with him already about him meeting my family. Three weeks in. Or whatever we're at. I'm bad with dates. This man, this surprising man, is wonderful.

I'm getting emotionally over my head way too fast, but it's like rolling down a steep hill, gaining momentum the more I learn about him, the more I see of him, unable to grab a hand-hold to stop and breathe.

After the ex, I wasn't sure if I'd find someone that fit. I'm a bit too... off. Too many contradicting things that most people simply don't understand or accept. I'm unable to be who I am, in so many eyes. Always looking for excuses, reasons, rationales that tell them that I'm lying to myself, lying to others, that this mold that they've created in their head is where I belong, and to bleed over the edges is heresy.

And then I found this misfit toy, this Charlie in the Box.