And if anyone tells you all their sexual partners were utterly fantastic, brilliant in bed, completely attuned to their particular sexual tastes, and always ready for it, who's seriously going to believe them? Sex is a complicated business and we all make a mess of it from time to time.
And if we're already a bit nervous about our sexual skills, who wants to hear about the wonderful ex who always knew exactly what to do and how to trigger total bliss in ten seconds? Or for that matter the hopeless ex who hadn't a clue and inspired a new world record in faked orgasms? Who only makes us feel even more nervous.
Do we really want to be told how stunningly attractive they were (prompting immediate thoughts of our own over-large bum, wrinkles and disastrous hair)? Or how amusing and witty they were (reminding us of our habitually catatonic and hatchet-faced disposition)?
No, unless the other person is supremely self-confident and quite happy with their body, any distant tales from the bedroom are asking for trouble. Better to keep them to yourself along with other mood-dampeners like heavy periods and false teeth.
The often ham-fisted and blush-inducing details of our chequered sexual history should only be divulged to very close and trusted friends who won't be phased by our failings or excesses but will remind us of their own sexual quandaries and give us the shared understanding we need.
So don't even ask about the woman with breast implants or the woman with the hand mirror or the woman with the very long tongue. My lips are sealed.
