* This is an R rated entry so be forewarned. Also if you have ever been a victim of sexual harassment or assault you may be triggered by the words below. It was extremely hard to write, but growth and self discovery come with pain. I added a spoonful of very dark humor because that's what I do for a living an it's how I deal with and process traumatic events.
I am a feminist, but when I use the term "slut" here I don’t mean it in a postmodern or re-appropriated way. I am not saying I am an empowered woman who is confident in her sexuality. I mean I became ridiculously promiscuous and had many sexual partners. You know...a slut.
This all happened as I can ascertain because of three main reasons. First off, I was ugly. Well I thought I was anyway. I mean every little kid goes through rough patches and awkward phases, but I was truly a scrawny, buck-toothed, knob-kneed, hair never quite right ugly duckling.
Thank God I had swan tendencies. I metamorphosed into the beautiful butterfly you see before you today. And no, I did not have daddy issues, my daddy loved me. If you weren't aware sometimes little girls who constantly feel less than beautiful discover their vaginas at some point after puberty and realize they can do something to make them feel desired and sexy. F*ck everyone. And I did.
“He must think I’m pretty, he wants to have sex with me! Guys don’t just stick their d*cks into anything!” ::Spoiler Alert...they do.::
By the time I was actually attractive on my own merit and no longer NEEDED to have a personality or use comic relief to get a guy's attention, it was too late. I was still slutting it up like an uggo. Maybe if I had not grown up in a predominately white environment where boys were scared of approaching an awkward, loud-mouthed black girl it would have turned out differently. Some guy would have tried to finger me behind the bleachers, and I would have acknowledged my power as a woman earlier. "I am desirable!" Maybe I wasn’t so much ugly in retrospect, but just different and therefore scary. Either way the damage was done.
The contributing factor to my slutiness: I was raised Catholic. No, no one molested me. Catholics just have a way of making sex so...sexy. Sex became this dark, delicious, forbidden fruit. I wanted it more than anything, but I was also ashamed of that desire. I still feel guilty to this day almost every time I have an orgasm. Jesus does not want sex to be fun. It's solely for procreation. We were also warned "Do NOT touch yourself!" or you go straight to hell. Do not pas go or collect $200. If you think I am exaggerating I will redirect you the sex education workbook I got in junior full of in depth details about the mortal sins. Let’s not even get started on the fact that I wasn’t 100% straight and going to an all-girls school. Yes, every lesbian pillow fight fantasy you have watched is true. We made out with each other after running through the sprinklers in our matching white bra and panty sets. Obviously none of that is true. I just had a couple of awkward sapphic scenarios go down. Nothing to write home or Playboy about. To be honest most of the girls I went to school with who came out later I either had no idea they were gay or just thought they were late bloomers/tomboys. Nevertheless the guilt of just thinking about sex and the juxtaposed feelings of an intense desire to have what I knew I shouldn’t turned me in to a sex obsessed psychopath. Once I arrived at college STILL A VIRGIN, but with no nuns in sight to rap my knuckles with a ruler I was practically throwing my myself at passersby. Which brings us to the rape and the third and finally reason I became a slut.
The fact that I was raped is not humorous, and neither is rape in general. Thankfully enough time has passed where I can look at the situation through a lens of forgiveness and analyze some aspects with a satiric squint. Unlike most women I WAS asking for it. Not to be forced to do something against my will, but for sex.
I got trashed at a frat party. I approached the hottest guy there with the confidence and sexual prowess of Madonna in the late 80s, and I informed him he would be f*cking me. Well...he was no dummy. He saw a misguided and tragically broken girl who was beyond the point of sobriety or making rational decisions and jumped on board for this amazing offer. What I did not sign on for was the other guy in the bathroom who started shoving my mouth on his raging erection. Just to clarify: yes, I lost my virginity to rape in a bathroom at a frat house, but I want you the reader to know I am ok. I feel desperate for you to know this affected me for many years after and will always continue to do so, but I AM OK. Ok? OK.
I pushed away, fought back, all that jazz you see on episodes of Law and Order SVU. I explained I was a virgin and this is not what I had in mind. They explained to me there was no way I was a virgin with the way I propositioned Guy #1. Then there was all that sexy dancing girl on girl action earlier. Good argument guys. I get it. Next time I will not shake my ass at a party or kiss my girlfriends drunk. That ALWAYS leads to double rape over a toilet. I am so stupid!
Anyway, I took a break from sex for a year after that regrettable evening in the commode. I realized I knew NOTHING about sex or being sexy. I focused on binge drinking, eating disorders, and some school work. Then I met a sweet guy. I had a “losing my virginity do-over.” It was great...for about 3 months. Then he broke my heart. He was a good guy. It was a normal break up. It just sucked. I had just attained a healthy relationship with sex and POOF! it was gone. After that, I proceeded to f*ck anything that moved for about a decade. I showed them! You break my heart, take sex from me when I don’t give you permission, make me feel ugly, tell me sex is wrong and dirty and bad?! Well F*CK YOU! All of you! Literally.
One day I woke up and said “What am I doing? Who am I doing?” I realized how special sex can be without trying to make it about gender politics or power plays. I realized it was amazing with someone you loved and trusted. I realized I didn’t always have to be drunk to enjoy it. I realized I was done being a slut. I learned how to let my freak flag fly without recreating a scene from Caligula every night. I fell in love with a wonderful guy and lived happily ever after.
So that is the story of how I became a slut. I hope you learned something, and if you see a struggling slut out there give her a hug. Tell her to read this. Remind her not to take her vagina for granted. It’s not pizza. You don’t have to share it with everyone. Eat your own pizza, girl. Your pizza is special! Anyone else hungry for pizza now?