A newly married couple were lying in bed on the first night of their honeymoon when the husband, in a moment of what he would later describe as very poor judgment, propped himself up on one elbow and said, “Sweetheart… can I ask you something personal? How many men have you been with before me?”
His wife said nothing. He waited. Still nothing. She was lying perfectly flat on her back, staring at the ceiling with a faraway expression.
“Honey?” he tried again. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I was just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Not a word. He started to feel genuinely bad. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly. It doesn’t matter one bit. I love you completely, whatever your answer might be.”
He waited another minute. She kept staring at the ceiling. Her lips moved ever so slightly. He leaned in close. “Sweetheart? Are you all right?”
She turned to him slowly, with the look of a woman who has been very seriously interrupted, and said, “For heaven’s sake, would you please stop talking? I’m still counting.”
