Embracing the Slut

Yay! Muse in Vivo is blogging again. She's one of those people I don't always agree with, but I stop and check my assumptions when we do disagree. And what does she do almost immediately upon restarting her blog? Point me to "My Sluthood, Myself." at Feministe, which I might have missed otherwise. Don't you make that mistake.

That’s the story we get sold, right? That women who sleep around are destroying their chances at True Love. Something to do with bonding hormones getting all used up? Or is it that we have so little self-esteem that no one could love us? Or maybe it’s that we’re all used candy wrappers or dirty masking tape. I can never remember.

Thing is: I’ve done it the other way. Until my mid-30s, I was largely a serial monogamist. Not for any grand ethical or philosophical reasons – it was just what felt comfortable to me. That’s not to say that I didn’t have some wild adventures in college, or never went to bed with someone on a first date – I did on occasion. It’s just that when I did, I’d often wake up the next day in a relationship. Let me tell you: not the best recipe for partnership bliss.

I don't think I've ever read a better deconstruction of how romantic relationship/sexuality myths create doomed relationships, and that isn't even the point of the piece, which is also well worth reading. Go. Shoo.

Then, when you're done, read Muse's take on the same topic.