We Are Just A Statistic

When my college lecturer said that mathematics was a key in solving the mysteries of the world, I thought he was an idiot, haven't been out much and had yet to discover the pleasures of porn. For one, the key to the universe lay in that 750ml bottle of demonic urine known as, Absinthe.

Years later, and countless nights spent hugging my toilet bowl to sleep and waking up next to strangers, it's becoming morbidly lucent that perhaps the world is constructed on mathematical eccentrics.

Call it juvenile fetishes, egotistical bragging rights, casual fornications, survival doctrines to pro-create or simply self validation, we are all just a statistic.

And that we are. Who we have dated, the ones we wished we never did or the ones we wished we would meet again. Who we've slept with, where we did it, was someone else holding the camera? Did we sleep with her sister? Have we done that ethnicity? Should we count pregnant ladies as 2?

At the very erosion of moral demeanour is our carnal instincts to thrive and yearn upon novelties, the very parameters of the unexplored. Why do men travel to distant lands? For conquest, for adventure and maybe Columbus got tired of White women and decided he wanted chocolate for breakfast instead. Naturally, you can't undermine the fact that it looks impressive on the resume.

It's all about the statistics, which brings about conversational avenues to the coffee table. The more impressive your repertoire of 'done it', the more you get to interupt the conversations at mid-sentences with your, "yah lor, yah lor!".

In retrospect to my epoch of being the one you affectionately know as, Butterfly, I've made brash contact with sufficient individuals through my endevours with mad partying and pillaging of alcohol, to brutally admit,

You are just a statistic.

1, is the actual number of women whom I have acknowledged as my girlfriend. And by that I mean doing things that real couples do, like arguing, throwing things at one another, fighting for the remote control and having dinner with the folks.

5, is the number of years that above mentioned relationship lasted. Bet that impressed you.

2, is the number of Japanese women I've had in my life. I believe this is too small a figure to sample the entire nation, but if that was a representative, then all Japanese women have big bust and can give a blowjob so good, you'll never want any other nationalities around your general groin area ever again.

9, is the greatest number of years in age difference between me and the youngest girl I've hooked up with.

14, is the greatest number of years in age difference between the oldest woman and I, that I got deceived and conned into bed with. It was absolutely erection killing and I was pissed about the whole issue for 2 whole days. The story here.

6, is the number of girls whom I have hooked up with solely through this blog. Of which, one used me as a tool for revenge on her boyfriend. This girl requested to fuck me primarily just so to get back at her boyfriend whom she BELIEVED to be cheating on her. Amazing what people do these days. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?

8, is the number of girls who were cheating on their boyfriends with me. Naturally, this figure could be exponentially higher since I generally do not query about their relationship status. Of which this 8, 4 of which I only discovered were attached after sex.

Interestingly, 6 of the above 8 mentioned were happily in love with their boyfriends. I distinctly remembered how they would tell me how wonderful their boyfriends were, and how in love they were and then 4 hours later, fucking me like conscience was a detachable mechanism. Amazing.

902, is the number of kilometres a person travelled to hook up with me. She was from Jakarta, we met in Bali and she came here on holiday or more romantically in her words, "to fuck you". Story here.

3, was the most number of women I succesively dated (and subsequently ended up in bed, or the backseat of the car with), cramped into a 24 hour period. I am truly a horrible person. I have yet to write about this, but should get down to this soon.

3, is also the number of women I've hooked up with and unwittingly discovered they were mothers. To this day, when people shout 'muthafucker', I invariably turn to look, just in case it's one of the kids.

853,126, was the number of times I yawned on the 'most boring date ever'. I swear, if this girl was water soluble, she could qualify as a sleeping pill. I have never been out with anyone with such a pretty face, but had the personality of valium. The dating deities must truly love me.

172, is the height in centimeters of the tallest women I've slept with.

22, in inches, is the smallest waist measurement of any female I've hooked up with.

34D, is the largest boob size of a female I've hooked up with and bothered to ask about her measurements.

50, is the amount someone paid to me in dollars for 1 hour of my time. This girl was a moron who actually believed me when I said I worked as a gigolo and had a going rate of $50 per hour. If you are stupid, I will exploit you.

3,500, was the amount I spent to chase a dream in Australia. I came back and realised love is a fairytale and should only be kept to children's story books, until they are old enough to know the gluttony of a corporeal fuck fest, exhilarations of one night stands and syphilis.

27, was the age I wanted to get married. What an idiot I was.

23, was the age I first started playing the Butterfly 'Miss Month' game. The first game ended in a week because she wanted to get serious and started saying horrible words like, 'love', 'commitment' and 'I can't take this anymore', to me. I did the only righteous thing possible and ignored her phone calls after that.

4, is the number of air-stewardesses I've dated, which is I believe, the most populous bracket of professions in my checklist. I am excluding models because every other girl is a model.

17 minutes, is the shortest amount of time I spent on a blind date before I salvaged my pride by running off. It was a toss between leading a frog-like girl on, or being raped by her gay friend. Worst experience ever.

15, is the age of the youngest girl who ever tried to ask me out on a date. I was 25 then and had no interest in adopting a daughter. I told her to sit outside the boy's secondary schools instead.

7, is the queue number one particular individual wanted to be for the year and achieved it through part abstinence and part fated timing.

20 is the amount some dumbass bitch discounted to from $100, as her fee to spend the night with me. This was an unwritten story (I unintentionally forgot) in our last Phuket trip, which LB and I have been laughing about. Hilarious story (to me), which I shall not disclose the ending until I write about it.. soon.

54, is the weight of the heaviest woman I've ever slept with. In pious practise of bedroom safety, we restricted all sex positions to strictly missionary.

I really should stop.

Inevitably, everyone eventually becomes a statistical figure of someone else. So does that mean we are significant digits amongst the stars? Or does it mean we are nothing but numerical imprints in the trails of someone's memories? No, but perhaps under all that kaleidescopic juxtaposition of statistics, it actually paints our lives.

How did you live your life? Cos mine was great.