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Tag Archives: What Would Joan Holloway Do?
Do I Look Like A Slut?
It seems that no matter what time I leave work my bus is full of teenagers. No matter if it's girls or boys, they're always talking about girls: who's a slut, who's a priss, who's not even worth mentioning. On and on and on. I feel like I know about the sexual lives of every teenager in Dalston at the moment. No matter how hard I bury my nose in a book I hear them, "She slept with him yesterday is it?" "Oh, my, god! What a slut!!!" Nice girls, nice.
This is something that I guess I keep going over on this blog: what the fuck is a slut? What does that word even mean? As I'm too much of a nerd to ask the teenagers themselves I turned to the next best thing: Urban Dictionary.
This is by far the most popular answer. A slightly confusing backhanded compliment, but hey, it's not terrible just sort of shitty.
Things get worse however...
Leaving aside the idea that someone could disassociate from their body quite at will (can someone teach me that?) this is a textbook definition and raises so many questions. Why does engaging in sex frequently and sharing your body with more than a handful of people make sex less special? What makes someone's sexual preferences discriminatory? What about all those girls who make their boyfriends wait and wait and wait and then get cheated on, treated badly, and dumped? Should they have worked harder beforehand? Probably not. If you give it up on the first date or after the wedding it doesn't make a shit of difference. Some people are douchebags, some people will be horrible to you. Sometimes you can sniff them out in seconds and sometimes it takes years. The amount of time you wait between meeting them and getting acquainted with their genitals makes no damned difference.
Now for 'meaning and significance'. I think that often sex can be likened to food. Some meals you wolf down, on the run, barely tasting them or appreciating them, others, like Christmas dinner, leave lasting memories each time it's consumed.
Sex is the same. Sometimes yes, it has meaning and significance, the first time you have sex after you fall really truly in love with someone is magic. For me in that moment the whole world seems to stop and there's a lightbulb over head feeling: this is it, this is me and the person I love being totally, utterly together. It's one of the most precious moments you'll ever have, I think. I don't know what having a baby is like, but I guess it's like a non sexual version of that. With added pain.
But yes, sex can have meaning it can have significance, it can be an exploration of trust, an episode of mutual discovery, and a fun filled rollercoaster ride, sometimes all of the above at once. And other times it can be like scratching an itch. An itch you just can't let alone. Do you have to scratch that itch with someone who understands you? Who likes you? Who thinks you're hot? One out of 3 generally isn't bad, but no, not really. Sex is sex, a strange, heady concoction that can be tied up with emotions and meaningfulness, but mostly is about being in the moment and something going on around your genitals.
Firstly: chill the fuck out! That guy was being nice to you, and you just pissed on his dreams!
Secondly... what people say about sluts, and by extension sex, says so much more about themselves than 'sluts'. Here we have someone equating sex with personal validation. The intricate way that her self-view is built into her idea of sex makes me think that for her having sex is a minefield: she at once wants to be accepted and loved and sees sex as a way of expressing this, but is also caught up in the idea that to give it away means that she doesn't respect herself. She's trying to withhold sex in order to get sex. Confusing? You bet.
FYI 'man' next time you see that lady give her a hug, she needs it.
SHIT! WE'RE ALL SLUTS!!!! Not you men. Don't worry, you're safe.
Amen. Read it, memorise it, and if neccessary tell people it, but in a more condensed manner because it's kind of long, and leave out the bit about nipples showing, because sometimes we just can't help it ok?
Stop calling other girls sluts, stop judging people by how many people they've slept with, and stop using it as a catch all insult. If you must call someone something nasty, and sometimes you must, then get creative! Call them a slinky eyed bottom feeding mouth breather, a higgedy piled rust bucket of pity, or a banana split on a cupcake, whatever feels right!
Or just move to Sweden and start confusing people.
Navigate-Colours
When I was a kid I told my mum that when I grew up I wanted ‘a red car, red dress, and red stilettos’ much like, it turns out, Cassandra in Wayne’s World. Though she looks totally sweet in a hair metal groupie sort of way, and I have always admired the work of Bebe [...]
Lipstick On Your Collar.
For the last week and a half I have been looking for a lipstick. Not any old lipstick, I found 100s of those, but the lipstick. One that will make me look like a lady, and that will not rub off all over cups, cigarettes, and boys’ faces. Back in this post I mentioned a [...]
B.A.B.Y.
Someday, in my uterus, where nothing other than blood, lining, and maybe a few lonely sperm cells have been, there may be, A BABY. Although I don’t particularly want one any time soon, or for a long time at all really, the thought sometimes enters my head and plagues me for days. Maybe it’s a [...]
Posted in Babies Also tagged I Choose My Choice!, I Love Having Anxiety, This Is Not Creepy, What If It's Not Cute? 1 Comment
Top 5 Songs For a Broken Heart.
5. Thieves Like Us – Your Heart Feels This song is best listened to mid-way through the broken heart process: you’ve moved on long enough not to sniff things they gave you and weep, but not enough to talk to them without wanting to pee. It’s a bit like a 2000s The Rat, but about [...]
Honesty And Sobriety: Not Always The Best Policies.
Recently I gave up drinking. At first I stopped drinking at all, just to see if I could. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, so since then I have been allowing myself a maximum of one slightly drunk night a month, no more than 3 drinks at other times, and both [...]
Posted in Not So Sexy Times Also tagged Compliments, It Happened To Me, Mistakes, Wish I Was Drunk, You're Beautiful But You're Probably 19 7 Comments
What’s Your Favourite Number?
Back in the day, which was a Wednesday if you check, men assumed their wives were virginal, and women that their husbands were super studs, so I hear. Blissful sexist ignorance it may have been, but everything changes with time. These days everyone wants to know what came before them (literally and figuratively) and so [...]
Posted in Relationships, Sexy Times Also tagged Sexy Sex Sex Sex, This Post's Title Was Ripped From A Really Good Song, Wear a Condom Duh 5 Comments
Date ‘Em All!
While there will be times when your diary is as barren as a desert and you find yourself accepting almost any invitation at others there’ll only be one word to describe life: mantastic!
Dating two, three, or four, or more, people at once is not for the faint hearted. Skittering from date to date with an ever-changing cast of hotties will take all your skills to keep things from spiraling out of control. So take a deep breath and read on…
I Don’t Wanna Dance With Your Boyfriend