For I have sinned. Not just once, but seven times. Let me explain: I’m single and seven is my “number”. You know, the number of notches on my pre-marital bedpost. The closely counted and well-guarded tally that most sane women wouldn’t trumpet across the pages of a popular men’s magazine.
In the beginning, it was called “knowing”. The shy meet-and-greet of mild husband and meek wife. But somewhere between Adam knowing Eve and you knobbing a colleague in the copy room, sex and sin became full-blown bedfellows.
