My Love-life in Numbers

Number of boyfriends: 3

My longest relationship was with my first boyfriend. Sad, I know. This is where my great taste in men started! With a boy that smoked a lot of pot and often told me that I didn’t deserve to complain because my life was ‘perfect’. We fell in/out of love for almost a year before I dumped him most underwhelmingly but it took me years to rectify the damage he’d done. Poor little me suffered from Depression for years, all the while thinking: how dare I feel like this? How dare I stay home alone on a Friday night crying because I am fat and ugly and worthless? Good going, asshole.

My second boyfriend was hilarious and cruel and scrawny and needy. I tried to dump him several times but he wouldn’t let me. Awkward. He lived across the quad but would wait for me in my room while I hung out with my friends in the dorm kitchen. Hey there, little clingy koala, you. Fuck off. He would play pranks on me like pretend to dump me only to laugh in my face a couple of hours later. Psycho. Eventually, I dumped him. On holiday. At my parents’ house in Greece. With two weeks to go before his return flight. Timing is everything.

My most recent boyfriend was three years later and three years ago. He is my favourite ex. It helps that he has decided he’s not totally straight. We were together for seven months. We co-habited the entire time. For most of it we were also travelling and working together in a foreign country. I was going through another depressive episode (yawn) and he was manic. No, I don’t care that he hasn’t been diagnosed with Bipolar. Takes one to know one, betch. We had an exhilirating and painful and intense relationship. I heart you, A.

Number of times I’ve been in love: 3

I have said I love you more times than that. But I have been in love thrice: with boyfriends #1 and #3, and also with The Neanderthal. Note to self: don’t fall in love while hypomanic. Especially with a player.

Number of people that have been in love with me: 9

And a few others that confessed jokingly which I don’t really count.
Huh, that seems like a lot.

Number of short-term relationships: 

Four? Five? Six! I think. MAYBE seven.

Number of casual relationships: 

Tsk, what’s a casual relationship anyway?! Oh. You mean a fuck buddy? One. He was my buddy first. It was ideal: chemistry in the backseat. None in public. He never made me feel like a hussy.

I don’t do casual relationships anymore. Not of any kind. There’s no point in pretending that I’m that kind of girl. I am not a casual woman. In any way. For better or for worse.

Number of times I’ve been dumped: 3

Technically, three times. And they’re the last three guys I’ve dated!

Anything prior to 2010, I dumped. Anything after 2010 dumped me. Uhm… WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? I thought I was getting hotter. Then again, I am also more in tune with my crazy. COINCIDENCE?

Being dumped used to be my idea of hell but now that it’s happened three times (seriously, WHAT?) I think my ego’s healthier for it. I mean, what kind of person is proud of their clean streak on un-dumped-dom? I mean, really, Alexia, WHAT KIND OF PERSON?

Number of times I’ve done the dumping: 6


Wait, does think mean long- and short-term relationships or anyone ever? Let’s assume it’s the former.

I think it’s six. Seven? Are we counting boys I fooled around with for a bit but refused to let be my boyfriend? If so, my number might be a bit higher.

Number of first kisses: Uhm…

I used to count a couple of times a year. I have stopped counting. I think it’s just under thirty. From what I remember, most of them were pretty dreamy.

Before you judge me, know this: that thirty  kisses work out to about 3 a year since I started kissing. That’s not that much! Now also know that for two of those ten years I was hypomanic which increases ones libido. And let us not forget that I love my drink and, you know, it gets messy. And we all know that kissing is a lady-lady’s slutty! Enough said.

Number of first dates: 17

This is a rough estimate. We don’t really date in Greece. We just kind of hang out until we’re dating. At least, that’s the way it used to be. I think the game changes as you get older. You can’t rely on hanging out anymore. Grown-ups are so serious.

Number of years I’ve been single since I first started dating: 8

Out of ten years. Uhm, yeah, that doesn’t say much about me. But I can tell you what a pixie said about me!

“I know you will find a great guy that will love you for you and how extraordinary you are. As you are so special, The Universe is just taking longer to find someone who is as special for you. As you can’t be with someone ordinary; they have to be fantastic.”

Paying it forward to all my single ladies out there. Hollaaa! Represent.

Number of times I’ve cheated in a relationship: 0


Hey, don’t judge me. It was just a kiss. I was seventeen.

Number of times I’ve been cheated on in a relationship: 0


Number of single best friends left: ALL OF THEM!

Number of friends in relationships: half of them.

Number of married friends: None.

The number you’d except to be included in a numbers post about my love life: ?

Ha! As if. Besides, there’s a bit of debate amongst my friends and I concerning what counts. They keep insisting that my number is one higher than I admit. I keep insisting that they are trying to make a ho of me. And I won’t stand for it!

So there you have it: my love-life in numbers inspired by the wonderful Eleni. Are there any numbers you think should be included on this list? What are your numbers? Do you dare spill the beans?!


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

13 thoughts on “My Love-life in Numbers”

  1. Um, aren’t I a non-single best friend??! :p
    I think you’re right that being dumped a few times is actually good for you… something a bit strange is going on if you are always the one ending them.
    ps. you have kissed more people than me I think- ho! x

    1. Uhm, are you married? No! You’ve been included in the question below that one (friends in relationships).

      I’m still a bit sad that I’ve broken my streak. I would have liked to at least had the one big, uhm, dump (ahem) so that I could look back tragically and say, ‘Him. It was he that let me get away!’ And then everyone would laugh at him for being so foolish. Damn. Now I’m normal. Fantasy ruined. Having said that, I’m way more relaxed about the whole thing. Rejection no longer defines me.


  2. This was tres amusing.

    As for this: “I thought I was getting hotter. Then again, I am also more in tune with my crazy. COINCIDENCE?”

    I happen to believe that there is no correlation between hotness and how often you’re broken up with or not. Everyone is dumped at some point in their lives. You’re just catching up to the rest of us. 🙂

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