I Do Not Wish to be a Slut

ImageThis blog has been abandoned multiple times in the past couple of years, leaving a scattering of posts that render me perplexed with my past mindsets. Two years ago, specifically, I wrote a post entitled “Secret: Sometimes I Wish I Was a Slut”. Ignoring the fact that the title is grammatically incorrect and it should be “Sometimes I Wish I Were a Slut,” I do not find that post at all representative of who I have become, someone who values relationships above hook-ups, emotional support over physical contact. But I will leave the post, for I suppose at one point, that’s what I wanted. 

They say we shouldn’t regret our past because at one point that’s exactly what we desired above anything, but can’t I at least say in the past I was wrong? 

When I wrote that post, I felt alone, abandoned, and fed up with petty crushes and insular fights with my mind over different boys, some of whom wanted me when I did not want them, some of whom I wanted but who wanted nothing to do with me. And thus that post arose out of a distraught time in my life when anything was better than nothing.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against sluts and I believe that if people chose physical aspects over emotional support then I have nothing to say for or against them. It is their choice, not mine, and I will never tell anyone how to live their lives. Relationships aren’t for everyone. But perhaps, deep down, those girls and guys alike act that way because they too feel alone and need some presence there, something better than nothing. Perhaps if they found a relationship, a very good relationship, then they would change and slowly grow to prefer that commitment over wandering between people who use them, abuse them, and then leave.  

And yet, when I say that, it’s still a generalization. I’ve had a fair share of hook-ups sans relationships, and this summer I went further with a guy I doubt I’ll ever see again than I’ve gone before, but, this summer, I was lost. Following a self-destructive school year that ended with my saying “fuck people,” I no longer cared about anyone including myself. And thus came Will. I, in a way, ended up using him just as he used me for experience. But I used him as an emotional cushion that reset my world in some strange mannor. He made me forget the past year and live in the moment, made me ignore all the people I had come to deplore and made me remember that there are things more important in life than high school. He helped me. 

Following this summer, I came back anew, but I know that if I hadn’t ended up with Brian, I would’ve started spiraling back to that mindset from which that post arose. But because I have him, he’s here for me, for the physical, the emotional, the break-downs, the laughs. He’s here for everything and now I don’t wish to be a slut. I don’t. 

I’m not saying that I’ll never slip back to that mindset, but I’m saying that it’s currently not who I am. It’s not what I need. I hope I never need that again, but if I do, I hope it helps. I really do. 

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