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Monday, 16 July 2007

W h o r e ny Vs. Horny

It’s a Saturday night and you’re butt-fuck wasted at your local tavern. You’ve spent the entire evening chain-smoking and chasing your dream of getting blackout and forgetting why it is you feel the need to get that debilitating intoxicated. After a little regroup session in the lavatory you glance at your watch and notice that it’s t-minus 25 minutes until bar close. After a solid lip glossing and tit adjustment you walk back into the bar, wink at your friends and strap your “I gotsta get some booty” cap on; it’s show time.
You walk up to the nearest guy , cross your fingers that he doesn’t catch a whiff of the dead rat soaked in tequila you call your breath, engage in some serious eye-fucking and whisper, “Hi, kitten. Meeeeeeow.” Now, if you’re anyone but my friend Boobie you would say something more along the lines of, “hey” and hope he takes it from there, but either way you’re getting that ball rolling. And by ball rolling I mean both of his balls moving closer to your needy snatch.
Next thing you know you’re waking up to your best friend’s ringtone blaring in your ear and the foggy but pounding thought, what the fuck did I do?? And after a quick glance around the strange room you’re momentarily calling home you notice your panties in a ball by the door and have an epiphany only Jesus himself could send. You just slept with a random from the bar. Fuck.
After a quick moment of self-hatred you check to see if he’s decent looking and if he is, it’s time to high-five yourself for being such a vixen. Then you give yourself an extra little high-five when you glance below and notice the porn star trim you remembered to give yourself the previous morning. After a couple of playful strokes you think to yourself, Jenna herself would be proud of this trim.
But the trim is neither here nor there because it’s time to slip your pants on with the silence of a gazelle (God knows you don’t want to wake the beast, the next mornings are just too fucking awkward for that, Man) and gingerly slip out the bedroom door. It’s important to be swift in these times because running into a roommate, large dog or (Lord help you) mother is never anything one wants to add to this already brown morning. Yet one mustn’t be too hasty and forget to glance at a piece of mail so you have an address for your best friend to Mapquest as you try to look as natural as possible leaning on a street sign, whistling the tune from Jeopardy and praying to god that no one tries to pick you up because you look like a fucking prostitute in your slutty bar clothes on the street corner at 10am on Sunday morning.
***
Alright, folks. The above story is not an excerpt from my autobiography. Rather, it is a literary mixed tape of many experiences I’ve seen, heard and lived over the years.
Truth be known, I’m questioning why it is that women with what I consider to be healthy sex drives are labeled whores because they choose to engage in sexual acts with men that they are not in committed relationships with. I do not understand why is has to be an issue of lady or the tramp. Why can’t women with a bevy of relationship quandaries opt to find sexual satisfaction from various male counterparts without having to see them daily and meet their parents??
I mean, there are a million reasons why women choose not to tie themselves down. There are women living with broken hearts, questionable fears of intimacy, low self-esteem, daughters whose father who didn’t pay enough attention to them during their formative years, viciously mentally unstable women, and one’s who just plain aren’t ready to give up their legs open bacheloretteness. Seeing that there are all of these obvious reasons women remain single I’m left wondering why being single means you aren’t allowed to have sex. Or worse, you are allowed to have sex, but ooops - you’re a slutbag.
I’m not evening going to go down the road of men’s ability to sleep with hundreds of women and be labled as a “man-whore.” Which is always said with a wink and a nudge because dudes are allowed to stick it in as many women as they want and not have it be a huge red fucking X through their character. See, I wasn’t even going to go there because it makes me look like a hairy-armpitted-extremist-liberal-crazy and I’m none of those things. Well, crazy..maybe, but honestly, I just want someone to tell me it’s okay to be horny without being whoreny.
And I’m not talking about laying on my back on Hennepin Ave and letting every tom, dick and sally who walks by penetrate the border . But engaging in some sweet, sweet lovin’ with a friend or friend of a friend every once in a while to tame the beasts below just doesn’t seem like a crime I’m willing to pay time for.
I do try to do as Ret would do and not give a damn but it bugs me that women with boyfriends are allowed to cum all day and night without judgment simply because it’s the same penis making the rounds. No one cares how often Mrs. Anderson gets pillaged. But as soon as Miss. Miller gets it on with “too many men” she’s “easy.” And what’s wrong with easy anyways? We used to pray that tests in school would be easy and people make millions everyday claiming “it’s so easy, you can to it, too!” So why in the bedroom is it is so wrong to be easy??
Alright, I think my dead horse has seen enough beating tonight so I’m going to wrap this shit up..
Am I wrong? Can only people in relationships have shameless sex? Or is it okay to get your kicks off root 66?
All I know is phonetically hormones looks like whore-moans.. Does this explain it all??
to blog or not to blog..

My brother has been a self proclaimed “blogger” for years now. I’ve always scoffed at this little habit of his but recently he’s brought to the table an interesting little proposition, he’s challenged me to a blog off..
Aiiiiiiight, Beau, I’m game. You betta bring it.