Slut: A Journey

I'm a slut.

I wasn't always a slut but that's how I've identified over the last few years.

My journey through sexuality was a...confusing one. I came out at the age of 15 to my friends and mom as a lesbian. When I was younger I'd been attracted to a few male celebrities but once I hit my teens, I had no interest in men. And I honestly thought I was a lesbian – no question.

When I was 18 or so I suddenly found myself with a crush on a guy I'd become really close friends with. God, talk about confusing! It took me some time to reconcile these feelings and to accept the fact that I had a new found physical and emotional attraction to men.

In retrospect, I wonder if my disinterest in men was based on a fear of them. I was molested by my father until I was 14 years old. 10 years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse left me scared to death of men. Or maybe it was just normal sexual uncertainty. I mean, really, it doesn't differ from a woman who suddenly finds herself attracted to other women as she gets older, does it?

But, lord, going back and telling people that, “Ummmm, oops, I actually like men too now!” was a bit embarrassing.

Though who I was attracted to was a moot point because I was still terrified of sex. And when I was able to acknowledge my desires I was so awkward and embarrassed of my inexperience that I was certain I'd just be bad at it so I ran from any opportunities I had to act on them.

Then I discovered phone sex.


Tell me how you wanna hit it, if you could, boo / Tell me what you would do / How you gonna make me come, oooh

Phone sex has been a huge part of my life for over a decade. It started as a way for me to act out sexually while feeling completely safe. I'd never even been kissed but on the phone I was the gang-banging little whore I fantasized about being.

All these years later, it still works as an outlet for my dirtiest and most dangerous fantasies. It's about allowing someone else into the darkest parts of me and enjoying every second of it. Sometimes there's shame or guilt but I'm getting beyond that. Regardless, some of my best and biggest orgasms resulted from phone sex. Talking dirty is one of my biggest turn-ons – in and out of bed.


So we laughed, compared notes / We had a drink, we had a smoke / She took off her overcoat / I kissed a girl / I kissed a girl

My first kiss happened when I was 19. With a good friend who knew I was scared. She and I made out for the longest time and it the most incredible thing ever. I realized, holy shit, I want more of this.

Soon after, she and I began frequenting a bondage/techno club. I drank and danced for hours. We made out and groped each other and dry fucked vertically. In the couple of years we went there I made out with more people than I can even remember. On the dance floor and on top of speakers. Hands touching me and sliding up under my shirt and into my pants. I gave my first handjob on that dance floor. My pussy was touched for the first time in that club.

I was wanted. I was desired. I was lusted after. My body wasn't a repellent. And these were things I'd never felt before. Never.

I was a sexual being.

And I liked it.

A lot.


We're not gonna prove nothing nothing / Sittin' around watching each other starve / What we need is action/strategy / I want I want I want / I want it now / I believe in the radical possibilities of pleasure, babe / I do, I do, I do

Realizing I was, in fact, desired by others was mind-blowing. And it changed everything. This isn't about basing your worth on others or finding your value through men. It's the realization that everyone lied. Society, the media, your family, your friends... They lied. Your fat isn't repulsive.

The world has been lying to you.

And that discovery? Is fucking revolutionary.

Aside from phone sex and masturbation, my sexuality was confined to my friend and anonymous fun in the club. I went on a couple of dates that went nowhere, emotionally or physically. I was still fighting against the fear.

When I was 23 I posted an ad on a “BBW” dating site and quickly got into a relationship. A sort of relationship. A relationship that flip-flopped between open and monogamous. Regardless? It was a huge mistake. He told me a month after we met that I was too fat for him to ever fully commit to. That he wanted someone his friends found fuckable. And the fucked up thing? I understood. And I accepted it. I consoled him. Because it made sense to me that I wasn't good enough.

Aside from a weekend with someone, I was sexual with him only. Even during our open stages. Even while he was searching for someone to replace me with. Sexually the relationship had major ups and downs. His sex drive was fucked up by anti-depressants and eventually I found out that he'd stop being interested in me sexually and never told me or officially broke up with me. That, essentially, he'd been pity fucking me for a year. I ended it three years after it started, feeling uglier, more unwanted, and less sexual than I did when it began.

I felt so gross that I didn't even touch myself for months after. I didn't allow anyone to touch me for 3½ years. I decided I had to do something because the longer I waited, the more scared I was. I was going to force myself into it. So I posted a new personal ad and began talking to people. Thus began the sex binge of aught 9 and 10.


I swear / I just found everything I need / The sweat in your eyes, the blood in your veins are listening to me / Well I want to wrap it up and swim in it until I drown / My moral standing is lying down / Nothing quite like the feel of something new

Dates, hook ups, phone sex, sexting, friends with benefits, friends I got dirty with, relationships... Lots and lots of sex. And, you know what? It was fun. I tried things and experienced sex in a new and awesome way.

The renewed discovery that I was wanted sexually (and to such a degree) really blew my mind. It had been such a long time since I'd felt that way that I wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Partners loved my body. I was finally able to be naked with the lights on and during the day with the windows open. It was so incredible and so freeing. Fat Acceptance had taught me, logically, that my body wasn't disgusting and could be appreciated and admired. But, now, I was actually feeling it.

Again, it wasn't about finding my worth in men. It was about my preconceived notions about myself and my body being turned upside down.

In retrospect, as much as I fucked around, I rarely found good partners. Occasionally “good” as in “technically skilled at what we were doing” but mostly “good” as in “considerate.” I'd gotten so used to my pleasure and orgasms not being considered that I struggled to ask for what I wanted and needed. I still didn't think I deserved those things. Don't get me wrong, some of my partners were amazing and got me off more times that I could count. But the majority? Not much to write home about.

There were fun and I don't regret them, for the most part. Rather, I don't regret the sex but I do regret not making my needs known and putting up with way too many tools. Occasionally I feel shamed because of my sexual history but I don't regret them because I think what I did was bad. I don't have any sort of moral issue with the decisions I've made. My shame comes from outside sources, not internal ones. I don't think I've done anything wrong though I know other people do. But, shit, I'm kind of used to that.

In the last three years I've had two relationships. The first lasting for four months and a mistake of epic proportions. Once again I was with someone who didn't care if I came. In four months he didn't go down on me or touch my clit once. But that was the least of my problems. As cynical as I can be, I still struggle a lot with remembering that some people can and will hurt me. That some people can and will manipulate, lie, and use me. And those blinders fucked me over hard in those few months.

My second relationship ended with his suicide. We were only together for a short time but we spent every single night together and talked throughout the day. He cared about me and wanted to make me happy. And sexually it was equally amazing. I was with someone who actually put me first. It was insane...to have someone who always made me come before he did.


It's too warm / Inside your hands / It's too hard / It's too good / It's just that when you touched me / I could not stand up / I fell into / I fell down

He actually worked to please me and to meet my needs. He learned how to give me what I needed. Before me he was completely vanilla but he was willing to try in order to make me happy. He was willing to explore and experiment and do whatever he could to give me what I desired.

Being with him helped me realize I was deserving of that. I was deserving of orgasms and pleasure and to be put first and made important.

After him, the hook ups just weren't the same. Not because of a lack of an emotional connection but because they just weren't as good. I didn't just want sex...I wanted awesome sex. And that's a lot harder to find.


Go on and take it off / Take it off! / You gotta shake it off baby, for me / C'mon and break me off / Break me off! / 'Cause I get what I want and I like what I see

I'm 33 years old and I've had sex with 24 men and 5 women. Some people think that's a lot and others don't...it's all so subjective. Maybe you look at those numbers and think, holy shit, that's a lot of people! Or, maybe you think, huh...if that makes her a slut, what does that make me? So who the hell knows, really? I love fucking. (Though sometimes I love making out even more.) I've had sex outside of relationships; casually and with people I've met only days, hours – or sometimes minutes – earlier. Some choices I regret, some I don't. Society tells me that most everything I've done is wrong but I'm not going to listen to that shit anymore.

Slut-shaming is just another type of body-policing. Another way to make women feel like shit about their bodies and their choices. Another way to turn us against each other so we don't focus on the real problems. Another way to hold us down and make us loathe ourselves. Filling us with even more shame and hatred, breaking us down and tearing us up. That shit is toxic. And I'm not playing into it anymore.

I'm a slut and I'm okay with that. Because I see a slut as someone who has taken control of her own sex life and pleasure. Because I see sluts as women who refuse to let society tell them who and when to fuck or how to live.

I'm a slut. Because I'm not going to be ashamed of my sex life.


Coming up: Part Two - Kink