A Slut's Tale

If I had a nickel for every person I've ever slept with, I would be a prostitute.

And $ .87 richer.

Quit calculating it, asshole. 

I was going to spend this next blog post arguing about the horseshittness (new word!) of the term 'slut', but it started to get all rageful and fucking intense, so I decided I would focus on my own individual slut story. It's more of a progression, actually - One I'd like to share with you delightful fucking people (except for my brothers, don't read this shit).

Chapter One

Corduroys Aren't Cool?!

Picture this: You're 17. You've had braces since you were like 13. Shit sucks. You don't know how to do your hair because the only other female in your household growing up had either a shaved head or a shaved head with a side rattail. You don't own any jeans, only corduroys. One thing you got going for you is a pretty nice, new rack. Unfortunately, you decorate it with bedazzled Eiffel Tower shirts. You've had sex with one person - your high school boyfriend. Shit is awesome ... If by awesome, you mean awkward. You're awkward. You get by on humor and the confidence that you're interesting. You feel like you're the most sexual person to ever walk the earth and only your shower-head knows it. 

Chapter Two

College Ho

You're in college now! You break up with your high school boyfriend over the phone (bitch!). You get your braces off.  Your college roommate shows you how to straighten your hair. You still like to showcase your tits, but now you do it while wearing jeans! Shit is looking up. There are hot guys everywhere, and they actually want to 'talk' to you. It's not a question of 'Should I?'.  More like, 'When and How Many?!'. Shit is awesome. Sex is fun! It's awkward, sometimes humiliating, but it feels good (usually) and most importantly, nothing beats seeing a guy totally naked after he's been spitting mad game at you! You're getting a good lesson in the male anatomy: balls are weird and penises remind you of those squishy, water-filled toys that always squirt out of your hand when you try to grab them too hard. 

Chapter Three

My Vagina Is My Temple

You start taking Women's Studies classes.  You're torn between embracing your sexuality by having sex with whomever you want and having sex with whomever you want but biting off their head immediately following copulation. Shit is confusing. You buy a giant vibrator. While in the store purchasing said dildo, you see a male acquaintance from work and approach him, stating in a loud, overly-obnoxious tone, "What are yoouuu doing here?!" He does not find it funny. You start trying to only have sex with 'smart' men and quickly find that sex generally takes the 'smart' out of most men. You consider having sex with women, but the desire to put your face in the general vicinity of a vagina isn't sexually appealing. You develop an obsession with finding your ultimate lover: A hairy-chested, Asian lumberjack.

Chapter Four

Shit Gets Complicated

You're still having sex, but you're feeling different about it. Sex with yourself is much less complicated. You start wanting to date the people you're fucking (what a concept!). Some of them don't want to date you and you have sex with them anyway. This sucks. You feel like a piece of shit and use Instant Messenger to put a bunch of Matchbox 20 lyrics into cyberspace. 

Chapter Five

Hot-Ass Boyfriend

A friend tells you one night that he thinks you're a beautiful person. You can talk to this man - he's kind, funny, and humble. He's not Asian, but he has a hairy chest and he looks like he could probably chop down a tree if he needed to. Sex is quite a bit better with someone you really care about. After a while you can do shit like stand up, bend over, and spread your butt-cheeks without fear of judgement! Eventually, you marry this man. You still occasionally daydream about having sex with strangers on the hoods of cop cars, but know that ultimately, your slutty experiences brought you to the best possible place.  


Conclusion


I feel like I need to say something here. I didn't need this nice, hotass man to rescue me from my sluttiness.  I think that shit would have tapered out anyway - but if it didn't, that'd be alright, too.  We are constantly bombarded with expectations of our sexuality. Ladies, be sexy but don't have sex!  It's bullshit.  Have sex if you want to, with whomever you want to, as long as that other person consents.  Be safe about that shit.  If you don't want to have sex, if you want to wait until you get married, do that.  But just an FYI, that shit hurts and it takes a while to get good at it.  Also, pee afterwards.




G'day mates!