Prime
Men Be Trippin’: I don’t date women with more than five word count!
Angella Kateemu
What you need to know:
- First of all… who is asking you to? Sir, your situationships outnumber your achievements. You’re out here with commitment allergy, seven exes, five ghosted girls in your DMs waiting on closure, and a phone full of unopened messages, but are out here acting like an emotional TSA agent checking stamps on a woman’s past like she’s applying for a visa to your affection? So, let’s talk body count.
Dear Diary, This one’s for every woman who’s ever been reduced to digits while the guy asking can barely spell accountability. So, I’m sipping wine with the gang ; soft life, loud laughs, and spicy truths, when one of the guys at the table lets it rip: “I’d never date a woman who’s been with more than five guys!” Cue collective side-eye.
First of all… who is asking you to? Sir, your situationships outnumber your achievements. You’re out here with commitment allergy, seven exes, five ghosted girls in your DMs waiting on closure, and a phone full of unopened messages, but are out here acting like an emotional TSA agent checking stamps on a woman’s past like she’s applying for a visa to your affection? So, let’s talk body count.
AGAIN! Because apparently, some men are still out here acting like women’s lives are clean slates waiting to be written on. This obsession with a woman’s body count isn’t about “standards.” It’s control. Ego. Insecurity. The delusion that a woman’s past somehow stains patriarchy. Men want a seasoned confident woman. They want a woman who is fire in the sheets, loyal like a ‘50s housewife, and untouched like a sacred relic. You want her to have experience from osmosis?
Or rather download it from PlayStation since you are nurturing your PlayStation addiction longer than any relationship? Please, make it make sense! Let me say this louder: A woman’s body count is not criminal record. It is because she can.
It’s not a collection of souls but rather a survival badge of men survived (Half of them probably looked like you, Jayden!) It is proof she’s lived. Loved. Dodged red flags. Lost. Learned. And when she chooses you, it’s because she knows better!
And while we are still here, the same men shouting “body count matters!” are the ones who want to locate the G-spot with Google Maps. G is not for guesswork, amatuer. Listen, we’re done shrinking ourselves for men with nothing to offer but judgment and Jordans. You’re worried she’s been with five men?
Be more concerned she doesn’t want to add you to the list. A woman’s past partners don’t reduce her worth. But your fear of not measuring up to them. Grow up. Or stay single in your podcast chamber talking to your bros about “females these days” while real women pass you by, looking for the next body to count! What’s my body count, you ask? Wrong question. Try: Where are the bodies buried? Wink.
—TheKat Baddie Rule of the Week: My body. My count. Mini Manifesto: I am a woman living, learning, and loving. I carry no shame. I’ll do not shrink myself to fit inside a fragile man’s fantasy.
