Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Coming Out as a Slut

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm a slut.  I mean, of course I am (please refer to the previous entries.)

However, I get nervous.

It's actually quite difficult to maintain a raunchy sex positive outlook 24/7.

I've become a stripper in the past 3 months.  I fucking love it.  It makes me like my body, myself, and humanity more.

I don't plan on telling my mother.

However, on Friday I went to a Giants game with her and my dad.  On the way out of the ball park, we passed the infamous Hustler Club mobile strip club--basically a box on wheels full of naked women and a pole.  My dad stopped to stare at a brunette with coffee skin pressing her ass against the glass.  My mom said something snide.  I tried to keep walking, afraid I might recognize someone, or somehow betray my alliances.

Coming out as a slut is way harder than coming out as queer.  I think I'm still coming out to myself about it.  There's still some bits of shame clinging to me.

They tell us in high school health classes that girls who are promiscuous really don't like themselves, and if having lots of sex and feeling good about yourself ever coincide it means that you've just bought yourself a one way ticket to teen pregnancy and a heroin addiction.  I suppose we're supposed to feel neutral about sex unless it's with someone you LOOOOOVVVEEE.

But having lots of sex with people I don't necessarily love....makes me feel awesome.

And being naked in front of people who pay me....has made me like my body more.

I don't know. Maybe I'm going down the wrong path after all, and Mr. Stevenson (my Bill Cosby-esque high school health teacher) was right.

But then again...I am going to Vegas with seven strippers on Friday.  We have a suite at the Monte Carlo with hot tub in the room and mirrors over the bed....

If I'm choosing wrong.....I think I'm okay with that.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Every third person



There are certain moments when your life flashes before your eyes. Sometimes its when you find yourself in the back of the SF Underground in the lower Haight sitting on the lap of the girl you have a crush on and watching someone you’ve seen in porn get fisted.  And then of course, the speed at which your life is flashing only increases when the person stops getting fisted and starts getting fucked with some one’s foot.

Your life also flashes before your eyes as you wait in your room listening to Regina Spektor at 3am, awaiting a BDSM porn star you met on the internet to come over and beat the shit out of you.
Or when you end up having a threesome with your boss and the innocent looking girl at work, and you realize that the innocent looking girl –braces and all—has kind of a mean streak as she digs her nails into your ass cheeks.

 Does that ever happen to you?

My life has been flashing before my eyes a lot lately.  

And it seems that every third person I see on the street is someone I’ve seen in porn or someone I’ve “winked” at on OkCupid.