Tag Archives: lesbian

Chapter 5. Having sex doesn’t make you a sex symbol.

30 May

 

 

“I would like my readers to pause dramatically here while they imagine the implications of oral sex with a period thrown in.”

In my life I found it too easy to mistake my own beauty for mens desire. When men want to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you are beautiful, it just means they want sex and think they can get it from you. Well that’s how it worked for me. If you think me living my life by an Oasis song was bad, nothing beat taking life inspiration from Samantha from Sex and the City. Having a ‘to have sex with’ list and making it my life ambition to fulfil it wasn’t the best idea I have ever had.

I like to make out that the Italian boy in student halls was the only boy to take me as a fool and to use me. If you believe this you would be very mistaken. My whole life was pretty much one boy after another seeing how far they could get with me. Which was usually all the way. I believed that people wanting to have sex with me meant I was beautiful, every time I slept with someone new I was filled with a kind of pride. A sense of self confidence because surely all these men wanting me meant I was a sex symbol.

My friends were far from acting like nuns. In-fact, no disrespect to them but they were sluts as well. Everyone in my group of friends had slept with each other. At one party even two of the girls slept together. In the kitchen in-front of everyone incase anyone was wanting some sordid details. One of them was on their period at the time, just thought I would throw a little background in there. I would like my readers to pause dramatically here while they imagine the implications of oral sex with a period thrown in.

With this kind of lifestyle being completely normal I never realised how cheap it made me.

My first year in Uni I carried on sleeping with people in the belief that I was in control of the situation. I wasn’t, I didn’t realise that whoring myself around wasn’t giving me power, it was taking it away. Every time I slept with someone I was punishing my self-pride even more. The worse I felt the more times I had sex to try and feel better. It was a vicious cycle.

I remembered something the Italian boy told me. I had mistaken it for a mistranslation at the time but it really struck me when I finally realised the kind of reputation I had. We were stood smoking when he turned to me and said “I like you, I have more chance of getting something with you than I have with anyone else”.

I would like to say that I have changed but I guess I will have to work on that. I like to think I wouldn’t sleep with someone just for the kicks but the reality is I probably would. I know I usually leave each chapter with a moral but there isn’t one. Once a cheap slut always a cheap slut sadly. The gap between being a slut and being frigid is pretty thin, and I don’t want to be either.