Few topics ignite as much debate in dating circles as the idea of “body count.” It simply refers to the number of sexual partners someone has had, but the weight it carries in relationships is anything but simple. The unspoken truth, however, is that what a woman’s body count is to men is exactly what a man’s bank balance is to women. Both are silent currencies that either buy you respect or bankrupt your chances.
This comparison may sound harsh, but it follows a certain logic. Men don’t like to say it out loud (maybe they do), but they definitely think it. When a woman’s body count is high, it signals something to them, fair or not. It suggests instability, lack of exclusivity, or a past that doesn’t align with what many men want in a long-term partner. And just as women will say “love is enough” until bills arrive, men will say “the past doesn’t matter” until the truth comes out. Then reality bites.
So that this isn’t entirely subjective, let’s look at some numbers. In the US, a country which is known to allegedly exercise a lot of freedom with regard to this topic, the average woman has had 4.2 opposite-sex partners by age 44, while men average 6.1. Women with more than three or four partners are already judged as less desirable for long-term relationships. In other words, the social “ideal” for women is half the statistical reality. That’s the battlefield women are on.
But flip the script, and you see the double bind for men. 71% of women believe financial stability is very important in a partner. In Nigeria, unemployment directly lowers men’s marriage prospects. It’s brutal but simple. A man can be handsome, kind, and even ambitious, but if he’s broke, most women won’t take him seriously. Being broke disqualifies men in the same way a high body count disqualifies women.
Now, here’s where it gets uncomfortable. We live in a culture that progressively preaches equality but still practices double standards. Women are told not to judge men for being broke because “he has potential.” Men are told not to judge women for their sexual past because “it’s sexist.” But dating isn’t a TED Talk; it’s a market, and in markets, perception is reality. Men don’t want women with high body counts. Women don’t want broke men. You can call it unfair, you can call it shallow, but you can’t call it false.
Think about it. It’s not just money. It’s a proxy for discipline, ambition, and future security. In the same vein, body count is a proxy for loyalty, trust, and perceived exclusivity. That’s why these numbers matter. They are shorthand for deeper qualities that people don’t have time or the courage to measure. You can call it an information asymmetry, and you may disagree with the proxies, but you can’t deny the power they wield.
Here’s the edge of it. Women who dismiss men for being broke don’t feel guilty because they’re just being practical. Yet when men dismiss women for a high body count, they’re labelled insecure or misogynistic. Both judgments spring from the same human instinct, the need to secure a partner who signals safety and stability.
So, the conversation about body count isn’t just about sex. It’s about how societies create metrics that reduce human complexity to numbers. For men, money signals competence and future security; for women, sexual history signals perceived exclusivity. Both become decisive markers in the dating marketplace, determining who advances and who is dismissed.
At the end of the day, you don’t have to like it. Understanding this equivalence is the first step in breaking free from the limitations it imposes. Numbers, whether in bank accounts or in bedrooms, rarely tell the full story of a person’s worth. You can argue against it, tweet against it. But as long as men want exclusivity and women want security, those two numbers will remain the invisible rulers of modern love.
Now if this is so, that no money equals no woman, what stops a man who has so much money from having more than one woman?
