Like many people on the cusp of being a millennial and Gen Z, I love documenting things. In my journal, on my Instagram story, pasted into a real live photo album — if it happened, I like to have a record of it. I keep a budget, a to-do list, and a detailed Outlook calendar for both work and personal commitments.
I also keep a list of everyone Iāve had sex with.
This isnāt a shitty little entry in the Notes section of my phone, either. Itās a gen-u-ine piece of paper dating back to my freshman year of high school. You can track my handwriting down the page as it shifts through the years, growing narrower, less loopy.
To be precise, the list actually includes everyone Iāve ever hooked up with. We all define that differently; my threshold, for our purposes, is at least a kiss on the lips. My list kicks off with my very first kiss, circa age 13. First name and last name wherever possible, though some entries are just first names, and some are a little more nebulous (āSahara East guyā). There are names crossed out and adjusted for people whoāve changed theirs, or whose I initially misspelled; there are arrows clarifying timelines.
Those Iāve slept with have a star next to their names. As I write this, the stars number 42. I donāt think Iāve missed anyone.
Occasionally I mention this list casually, in passing. Who among us, perhaps during a game of Truth or Dare or 20 Questions, hasnāt been asked about, say, our best or worst or wackiest encounter, and responded, after a few moments of sincere thought, āHonestly, Iād have to look at my listā?
In this way, Iāve come to realize that not many others keep such a list. (āYou have a fucking LIST?ā) But Iād like to make a brief argument in favor of The List. Itās never too late to start one!
If youāve ever looked back at digital documentation of any period of time in your life — whether via TimeHop or Facebook memories, re-watching your archived stories, or scrolling through your own tweets — itās probably struck you just how much we forget. Moments that might have seemed so special and singular at the time — even just a year or two ago — wouldāve been lost to memory if you hadnāt taken that Boomerang. And how many similar moments were lost, just because you didnāt take that Boomerang?
The List documents little pieces of my history that are often among the most intimate, or at least the most interesting. It lets me see, all in one place, everything thatās happened sexually for me between Seth (last name redacted), at age 13, and Royal (last name unknown), at age 21. After all, weāre human! We forget things! Some nights are a blur! Some sex isnāt very memorable!
Sometimes the argument is made that we canāt forget anything these days, even things weād like to or things we should, because of social media. Iām all for muting the one-night stand who now posts frequent boyfriend photos (though I havenāt muted her yet) and blocking the high school ex who keeps popping up (though I havenāt blocked him yet). Iām all for forgetting when itās an act of self-preservation. But Iām also a firm believer in facing reality: You can unfollow me, but you canāt un-fuck me.
Of course, there are also less whimsical reasons to keep records. Weāve all seen a sitcom (or a real-life situation) where a character is trying to figure out whoās the baby daddy or notify past partners that theyāve tested positive for an STI. Or maybe itās just that someone pops up in our LinkedIn requests and we canāt quite place if itās that someone. In such scenarios, The List might serve some of us well — just to refer back to, to double-check.
But thatās not why The List was conceived — not really.
Why do we make any list, after all? We do it for our future selves. A grocery list for our future self as she wanders purposelessly through the frozen food aisle. A list of New Yearās resolutions so our future self can pull it out in July and realize she still hasnāt gone zero-waste. An Amazon wish-list so that if our future self ever reactivates their Seeking Arrangements account, they’re ready.
We need our brain space to store more important, day-to-day things — our work assignments and our doctor appointments and our next bikini wax. Details of past trysts tend to get cobwebby up there. The List keeps it all in one place, for us to pull out every now and then and reflect upon, like an old yearbook or letter. If you like, say, poring over your own social media accounts until youāre deep in 2008, youāll love The List.
Go ahead — give it a try. Fill up a page. Or two.
Photos/art (in order of appearance) by Emily Millar, Dariana Portes, and Dakota Varney.