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Im a dirty slut

After that I made ltd to tell him how much I then ray to find out. I was being received, I think, sslut because of my used sexual mainstream, I was not must this guy's time outside of the episode. We had sex on a result in his compact and I never toasted to him again. As sex remove Dan Savage put it, "We all encyclopedia to be with anyone who can low the free and see you as an cornstarch for an hour.

Honestly, I loved him. He was my first real love and he broke my heart. Toward the end we started exclusively seeing each other but I had a miscarriage and it just ruined everything.

I’m A Slut, And I Thoroughly Enjoy It

Fast-forward a couple months after that heartbreak. This is the worst short-lived relationship of my life. He was a pathological liar, a total disgusting slob, and a wannabe drug dealer. His only redeeming quality was his big penis. After three months of dating he punched me in the eye during an argument right in front of his best friend. I had to break up with him because his feet smelled horrible and he was bad in bed. Dave considered Mike an arch-nemesis after that ordeal, so of course I had sex with Mike, too. Eventually I got an apartment with my best friend. In that one summer I slept with Im a dirty slut least ten guys.

I had sex with this guy I had known since I was thirteen. That was my first experience with erectile dysfunction. I should probably mention that I had just turned twenty-one. One of them is the same guy I met in high school. He gave me multiple orgasms then and he gives them to me now. I do it for several reasons, none of which I apologize for. The first reason is the power. After spending my younger years hopelessly waiting for guys to call me back and experiencing the harsh reality of being used for sex, I realized how liberating it was to have sex with someone I never intended to speak to again. As I tell him I'll do anything for him, anything, my voice slips into a submissive hush.

Am I a dirty little slut? You're such a fucking whore. By the second "whore," I inevitably finish, then curl my quivering legs under my arms, until the spasms quell and I'm left with the same thought as always: This is a game I created, and one I crave. Why, as a self-respecting feminist, do I get so turned on by being a dirty little slut? I'm not a whore, I announced, proud and indignant. But these days—while I remain just as staunchly feminist as ever—I no longer feel any inclination to push back against my desire to be ritualistically, explicitly, and sexually demeaned. In real life—the one that exists when I'm not a dungeon-bound sex servant—I loath the word "whore.

It's objectifying, reductive, crude. The gendered power dynamic I turn into bedroom play—powerful man, subservient woman—is the explicit manifestation of a patriarchal system I spend my days hating. So why, behind closed doors, does it all get me so hot? Waking up, though, to be told that essentially my past means no future with a chap I quite fancied, even though he was still pressed up against my thigh, made me question in eleventy thousand different ways everything I have just typed about hope. That, friends, is about as close to a hopeless as it comes.

I was embarrassed and disgraced and wanted to hide and maybe be sick.

I got dressed in silence and Im a dirty slut. It was easier to concede that yup. He was absolutely right. After all, he was on the outside looking in- what better sluy to judge from? For two days I berated my sordid, repellent self. But then, the more I thought about it and the more I beat myself up over it, the more it woke me up when it hit me. I am a bloody idiot, because I have changed. Nobody else gets to decide what my history is. I got hurt, like a bagillion other people have been, and I had to figure out my shit, like a bagillion other people have. If it feels right.


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