In which I confess to being a Dirty Slut (TM)
OK ladies, please put a cross in the box that describes you:
(A) nice girl [ ]
(B) complete rancid dirty slut whore [ ]
"But where is option C or, in fact, options D, E, F or anything else?" I hear you cry (metaphorically speaking). Ah, you see, there isn't another option. I am fast becoming absolutely convinced of the fact that, to the vast overwhelming majority of straight men, women fall into the above two categories. Or, at the very least, women who they might ever, EVER conceive of sleeping with do. I've also come to the conclusion that I fall, most definitely, into category B. And this explains my utterly crap relationship history.
Before I get flamed to death by the loved-up among you, I do genuinely accept that some people have happy, successful relationships with men that don't appear to be arseholes. But the cynical part of me suggests that the reason for that is those men think of you as Girl-type A. You are a nice girl, so you deserve to be treated with respect.
The whole nice girl / dirty slut thing is linked in to one of the biggest double standards in relationships - one which has probably existed since the first cave-people had a passionate moment and then the cavewoman spent the next month wondering why that particular guy never clubbed her over the head and dragged her back to his cave again. I illustrate it with a little moment from my university days…
Bloke (as explanation for why he's behaving like a dickhead): You shouldn't have slept with me as soon as you did.
Me: But you slept with me too. [I know this sounds moronic, btw.]
Bloke: Yes, but that's different.
See, men are allowed - nay, expected - to shag a girl at the earliest opportunity. That just makes them men. But women who decide that yes, they like this guy or at least fancy him enough to avail themselves of his body, those women are Complete Rancid Dirty Slut Whores. If you make the first move, that's even worse. Even if you don't, even if you just respond with a "yes" before the man's internal Dirty Slut threshold is reached, you are forever a Girl-type B in his eyes. Thus, you fall under the Girl-type B rules. Now, not being in possession of a penis and an over-riding sense of my own importance, I'm not privy to the exact wording of these rules but I do know that they include the following. If you are a Girl-type B…
1. You are a complete rancid dirty slut whore.
2. You are up for it all the time. ALL the time. And with anybody.
3. You spend an inordinate amount of your spare time masturbating. Seriously. Got a spare afternoon? Sod the ironing or grocery shopping, let's spend the whole time wanking. And the best possible thing to do on your 10-minute coffee break is nip into the staff loos for a quick shuffle.
4. You can't be bothered with regular conversation - let's just talk about sex.
5. You want to share details of all of your past sexual encounters, and they're all really kinky. No boring missionary position for you.
6. You own a vast collection of porn, manacles, whips, 10-inch dildos and kinky underwear. And you always use them. I did mention the 'no boring missionary' part, right?
7. You like to talk dirty during sex. Constantly. Except, of course, when your mouth is full of something - most likely a gag or his enormous cock but also potentially various body parts of any third parties you're desperate to include in the bedroom. And in this case, you love to hear him calling you exactly what you are, you dirty whore.
8. You cannot be insulted. Or offended. Or hurt.
I'm sure there are more. I know there are. But point (8) is the clincher. This justifies everything else that may happen. Because it doesn't matter. A woman like you can't be hurt by his behaviour - your very nature welcomes it. No harm, no foul.
You know what else? Even if you resist the temptation long enough that you can be classed as a Girl-type A, you can get bumped into the Girl-type B category by virtue (hah!) of having either (i) more partners than him or (ii) a deeper range of experience than him. You might not even know that your category has changed right away. You'll be secure in the feeling that this guy really cares for you and respects you then things will start to slip. The insecurity eats away at the Poor Bloke Brain and his esteem of you slowly drains away. In some blokes, the Poor Bloke Brain has words with the Impressionable Bloke Dick and tells it to down tools. Then comes the little insane voice of pseudo reason that says "look, she's done this stuff that you haven't. That's not good, is it? She's obviously been around a bit, and that means she'll find you dull and soon enough she'll be shagging someone else. So the only way to avoid this is for you to get out there and rack up some more points. Face it, mate, it's her fault. That doesn't count as infidelity, really. She's driven you to it."
And by the way, if you think this last paragraph sounds far-fetched, that was my beloved soon-to-be-ex-husband's excuse for fucking other women. I'd had more partners than him, therefore I made him feel inadequate. Yes, it was indeed All My Fault.
I want to start dating again. I feel ready to paddle in the relationship pool, maybe not dive in the deep end yet but maybe something along the 'boyfriend' line. Someone to go to the cinema with, to have dinner occasionally, to hang about and hold hands and snog a lot. But I've got no clue how to do this. Do I need to pretend to be someone I'm not? I'm crap at that. I'm such a heart-on-my-sleeve type. I've no idea how to tell when it's ok to sleep with a guy. In The Tall Guy, Emma Thompson tells Jeff Goldblum that, if she likes someone, she doesn't see the point in playing games, she'd rather just go to bed with them. Why not? If you know you like someone, why not? While it works in movies, though, it's seldom that way in real life. So how long should I wait? And what about the rest of it? Is oral sex more or less serious than penetration? Do I hide all of my dirty books? Should I studiously not mention having been to Erotica? Is it OK for me to own lube? But this is all me - I like sex, I enjoy the occasional game, I indulge in porn, I have corsets… so then does it get to a point in the relationship and I have to admit that actually, the girl he thought he was dating is really a dirty slut after all? This probably sounds insane but I worry about this stuff. Because before, I fooled myself that this is the twenty-first century and it was fine for me to be like this - and I ended up getting hurt over and over and over.
I did venture out and dip a toe in the dating pool but nearly lost my foot to the sharks out there. I mentioned this in response to naamah_darling's entry on misogynistic wankers, which you should definitely read if you get the chance. I even joined a dating site, naively thinking there might be guys out there who wanted to, y'know, DATE. In the end, I took my profile down because the whole experience just depressed me further. So, since my marriage fell to bits, I have encountered the following:
• Attached bloke having midlife crisis who claimed to be my friend and support but actually was just after some extra-curricular fucking. He was the one who recommended the website and I curse him thoroughly.
• (Probably) married bloke who claimed to be after a relationship but was actually just after some extra-curricular fucking.
• Series of guys on the site who were incapable of taking "no thanks" for an answer and I eventually had to block them. Most of these conversations managed to go from "hi" to "so, do you make a lot of noise when you come?" within about twenty minutes.
• One guy who was nice enough in his own way but so utterly desperate for a girlfriend to show off that it was obvious it really wasn't ME he was interested in, but the fact that I had boobs and a pulse.
• Bloke who claimed he didn't have time for a relationship when, in fact, he didn't have time for a relationship with me. Oh, but we're still really good "friends", right? ie: Can I keep you on the back burner for occasional sexual gratification and in case things don't work out?
The thing with the site, and with guys I've met in person, is that when I've said that I don't want something serious right away, this seems to translate as "but I'm up for a lot of meaningless no-strings fucking and actually seeing as how I'm in my thirties and a single parent, I'm staggeringly grateful for the attention of any guy no matter how old / annoying / physically repellent you are". I am automatically Girl-type B. Even the guy who was the nicest of the above fuckwits' gallery, when I told him that he wanted something more serious than I was ready for, said "but you can still use me for sex, right?" as though he was doing me some massive favour.
The Nice Girl / Slut dichotomy is also responsible for some men dividing women into "girls I'd like to date" and "girls I just want to fuck". I've experienced this a LOT. Years back, at university, I remember having a laugh with some female friends about a guy we knew (and of whom a couple of us had intimate knowledge). This bloke, let's call him Fred, was a good-looking guy but he was pretty arrogant and very image-conscious. We noticed that his proper official girlfriends were universally dinky, slender, long straight hair - honestly, they could've been stamped out of a mould. The girls who he pulled but would never date were all curvy. I reckon the average weight difference between Fred's girlfriends and his lovers was a good 25 pounds. (And, by the way, I'm not implying that he didn't also sleep with the girlfriends. I'm sure he did.) So we all laughed about Fred and his hypocrisy but I've encountered this a few times since then and frankly, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. This was the case for the last guy on my list above, no matter what bullshit excuses he came up with. I was good enough to fuck, but certainly not Proper Girlfriend material. Why? Probably because I'd already slept with him before he decided that he was ready to date. Or because, while he may be physically attracted to an older, curvy, tattooed chick, what he wants to show off to his mates is something entirely different.
What makes me so angry and frustrated is that I know this stuff. I know that men have weird ideas about how long you're meant to wait to have sex. I know that, despite this, they'll try for sex on the first date. I know that, if I want a man to respect me, I should wait. There are rules somewhere, hell, there are The Rules (which I have never read and would probably want to use as toilet paper rather than relationship guidelines but that's beside the point). But god-fucking-dammit, WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO DO THIS? I am an adult, I am a professional, I have a mortgage and a car and a bloody filing cabinet, for fuck's sake. Why, if I find a man that I find physically attractive, should I not sleep with him when I want to? Why should the timing of this affect whether or not I am deemed worthy of a proper relationship? Of respect? Why should I deny that I enjoy sex? Why should this be such an enormous bloody issue? Of all the things that do or don't happen between people, this really shouldn't be such a big deal, but it is. It really is.
I just feel as though most men see women as extremes of being. But it's ridiculous. Liking something doesn't mean that it's ALL you like. It doesn't exclude other things, and it doesn't mean that's what you want to do all of the time. I mean, I like steak. I really do. But that doesn't mean that I don't also like chicken, fish, vegetables, bread, whatever. And sometimes, guess what, I actually DON'T want to eat steak. I'd not go so far as to say it's the last thing I'd eat, because no power on this earth will make me enjoy kidneys, but there are plenty of times when I've had steak in the fridge and not wanted to eat it. So yeah, I like sex but that doesn't mean that's the only thing on my mind. There are plenty of other things I enjoy doing and talking about. There are also plenty of times when I really actively don't want to fuck, or talk about fucking. And I'll cheerfully admit that, on occasion, there's nothing like a self-administered orgasm to cheer up a dull day or switch off my brain for sleep but - and this may come as a massive surprise to you, I know - sometimes, I'd just like to read a bloody book.
(A) nice girl [ ]
(B) complete rancid dirty slut whore [ ]
"But where is option C or, in fact, options D, E, F or anything else?" I hear you cry (metaphorically speaking). Ah, you see, there isn't another option. I am fast becoming absolutely convinced of the fact that, to the vast overwhelming majority of straight men, women fall into the above two categories. Or, at the very least, women who they might ever, EVER conceive of sleeping with do. I've also come to the conclusion that I fall, most definitely, into category B. And this explains my utterly crap relationship history.
Before I get flamed to death by the loved-up among you, I do genuinely accept that some people have happy, successful relationships with men that don't appear to be arseholes. But the cynical part of me suggests that the reason for that is those men think of you as Girl-type A. You are a nice girl, so you deserve to be treated with respect.
The whole nice girl / dirty slut thing is linked in to one of the biggest double standards in relationships - one which has probably existed since the first cave-people had a passionate moment and then the cavewoman spent the next month wondering why that particular guy never clubbed her over the head and dragged her back to his cave again. I illustrate it with a little moment from my university days…
Bloke (as explanation for why he's behaving like a dickhead): You shouldn't have slept with me as soon as you did.
Me: But you slept with me too. [I know this sounds moronic, btw.]
Bloke: Yes, but that's different.
See, men are allowed - nay, expected - to shag a girl at the earliest opportunity. That just makes them men. But women who decide that yes, they like this guy or at least fancy him enough to avail themselves of his body, those women are Complete Rancid Dirty Slut Whores. If you make the first move, that's even worse. Even if you don't, even if you just respond with a "yes" before the man's internal Dirty Slut threshold is reached, you are forever a Girl-type B in his eyes. Thus, you fall under the Girl-type B rules. Now, not being in possession of a penis and an over-riding sense of my own importance, I'm not privy to the exact wording of these rules but I do know that they include the following. If you are a Girl-type B…
1. You are a complete rancid dirty slut whore.
2. You are up for it all the time. ALL the time. And with anybody.
3. You spend an inordinate amount of your spare time masturbating. Seriously. Got a spare afternoon? Sod the ironing or grocery shopping, let's spend the whole time wanking. And the best possible thing to do on your 10-minute coffee break is nip into the staff loos for a quick shuffle.
4. You can't be bothered with regular conversation - let's just talk about sex.
5. You want to share details of all of your past sexual encounters, and they're all really kinky. No boring missionary position for you.
6. You own a vast collection of porn, manacles, whips, 10-inch dildos and kinky underwear. And you always use them. I did mention the 'no boring missionary' part, right?
7. You like to talk dirty during sex. Constantly. Except, of course, when your mouth is full of something - most likely a gag or his enormous cock but also potentially various body parts of any third parties you're desperate to include in the bedroom. And in this case, you love to hear him calling you exactly what you are, you dirty whore.
8. You cannot be insulted. Or offended. Or hurt.
I'm sure there are more. I know there are. But point (8) is the clincher. This justifies everything else that may happen. Because it doesn't matter. A woman like you can't be hurt by his behaviour - your very nature welcomes it. No harm, no foul.
You know what else? Even if you resist the temptation long enough that you can be classed as a Girl-type A, you can get bumped into the Girl-type B category by virtue (hah!) of having either (i) more partners than him or (ii) a deeper range of experience than him. You might not even know that your category has changed right away. You'll be secure in the feeling that this guy really cares for you and respects you then things will start to slip. The insecurity eats away at the Poor Bloke Brain and his esteem of you slowly drains away. In some blokes, the Poor Bloke Brain has words with the Impressionable Bloke Dick and tells it to down tools. Then comes the little insane voice of pseudo reason that says "look, she's done this stuff that you haven't. That's not good, is it? She's obviously been around a bit, and that means she'll find you dull and soon enough she'll be shagging someone else. So the only way to avoid this is for you to get out there and rack up some more points. Face it, mate, it's her fault. That doesn't count as infidelity, really. She's driven you to it."
And by the way, if you think this last paragraph sounds far-fetched, that was my beloved soon-to-be-ex-husband's excuse for fucking other women. I'd had more partners than him, therefore I made him feel inadequate. Yes, it was indeed All My Fault.
I want to start dating again. I feel ready to paddle in the relationship pool, maybe not dive in the deep end yet but maybe something along the 'boyfriend' line. Someone to go to the cinema with, to have dinner occasionally, to hang about and hold hands and snog a lot. But I've got no clue how to do this. Do I need to pretend to be someone I'm not? I'm crap at that. I'm such a heart-on-my-sleeve type. I've no idea how to tell when it's ok to sleep with a guy. In The Tall Guy, Emma Thompson tells Jeff Goldblum that, if she likes someone, she doesn't see the point in playing games, she'd rather just go to bed with them. Why not? If you know you like someone, why not? While it works in movies, though, it's seldom that way in real life. So how long should I wait? And what about the rest of it? Is oral sex more or less serious than penetration? Do I hide all of my dirty books? Should I studiously not mention having been to Erotica? Is it OK for me to own lube? But this is all me - I like sex, I enjoy the occasional game, I indulge in porn, I have corsets… so then does it get to a point in the relationship and I have to admit that actually, the girl he thought he was dating is really a dirty slut after all? This probably sounds insane but I worry about this stuff. Because before, I fooled myself that this is the twenty-first century and it was fine for me to be like this - and I ended up getting hurt over and over and over.
I did venture out and dip a toe in the dating pool but nearly lost my foot to the sharks out there. I mentioned this in response to naamah_darling's entry on misogynistic wankers, which you should definitely read if you get the chance. I even joined a dating site, naively thinking there might be guys out there who wanted to, y'know, DATE. In the end, I took my profile down because the whole experience just depressed me further. So, since my marriage fell to bits, I have encountered the following:
• Attached bloke having midlife crisis who claimed to be my friend and support but actually was just after some extra-curricular fucking. He was the one who recommended the website and I curse him thoroughly.
• (Probably) married bloke who claimed to be after a relationship but was actually just after some extra-curricular fucking.
• Series of guys on the site who were incapable of taking "no thanks" for an answer and I eventually had to block them. Most of these conversations managed to go from "hi" to "so, do you make a lot of noise when you come?" within about twenty minutes.
• One guy who was nice enough in his own way but so utterly desperate for a girlfriend to show off that it was obvious it really wasn't ME he was interested in, but the fact that I had boobs and a pulse.
• Bloke who claimed he didn't have time for a relationship when, in fact, he didn't have time for a relationship with me. Oh, but we're still really good "friends", right? ie: Can I keep you on the back burner for occasional sexual gratification and in case things don't work out?
The thing with the site, and with guys I've met in person, is that when I've said that I don't want something serious right away, this seems to translate as "but I'm up for a lot of meaningless no-strings fucking and actually seeing as how I'm in my thirties and a single parent, I'm staggeringly grateful for the attention of any guy no matter how old / annoying / physically repellent you are". I am automatically Girl-type B. Even the guy who was the nicest of the above fuckwits' gallery, when I told him that he wanted something more serious than I was ready for, said "but you can still use me for sex, right?" as though he was doing me some massive favour.
The Nice Girl / Slut dichotomy is also responsible for some men dividing women into "girls I'd like to date" and "girls I just want to fuck". I've experienced this a LOT. Years back, at university, I remember having a laugh with some female friends about a guy we knew (and of whom a couple of us had intimate knowledge). This bloke, let's call him Fred, was a good-looking guy but he was pretty arrogant and very image-conscious. We noticed that his proper official girlfriends were universally dinky, slender, long straight hair - honestly, they could've been stamped out of a mould. The girls who he pulled but would never date were all curvy. I reckon the average weight difference between Fred's girlfriends and his lovers was a good 25 pounds. (And, by the way, I'm not implying that he didn't also sleep with the girlfriends. I'm sure he did.) So we all laughed about Fred and his hypocrisy but I've encountered this a few times since then and frankly, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. This was the case for the last guy on my list above, no matter what bullshit excuses he came up with. I was good enough to fuck, but certainly not Proper Girlfriend material. Why? Probably because I'd already slept with him before he decided that he was ready to date. Or because, while he may be physically attracted to an older, curvy, tattooed chick, what he wants to show off to his mates is something entirely different.
What makes me so angry and frustrated is that I know this stuff. I know that men have weird ideas about how long you're meant to wait to have sex. I know that, despite this, they'll try for sex on the first date. I know that, if I want a man to respect me, I should wait. There are rules somewhere, hell, there are The Rules (which I have never read and would probably want to use as toilet paper rather than relationship guidelines but that's beside the point). But god-fucking-dammit, WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO DO THIS? I am an adult, I am a professional, I have a mortgage and a car and a bloody filing cabinet, for fuck's sake. Why, if I find a man that I find physically attractive, should I not sleep with him when I want to? Why should the timing of this affect whether or not I am deemed worthy of a proper relationship? Of respect? Why should I deny that I enjoy sex? Why should this be such an enormous bloody issue? Of all the things that do or don't happen between people, this really shouldn't be such a big deal, but it is. It really is.
I just feel as though most men see women as extremes of being. But it's ridiculous. Liking something doesn't mean that it's ALL you like. It doesn't exclude other things, and it doesn't mean that's what you want to do all of the time. I mean, I like steak. I really do. But that doesn't mean that I don't also like chicken, fish, vegetables, bread, whatever. And sometimes, guess what, I actually DON'T want to eat steak. I'd not go so far as to say it's the last thing I'd eat, because no power on this earth will make me enjoy kidneys, but there are plenty of times when I've had steak in the fridge and not wanted to eat it. So yeah, I like sex but that doesn't mean that's the only thing on my mind. There are plenty of other things I enjoy doing and talking about. There are also plenty of times when I really actively don't want to fuck, or talk about fucking. And I'll cheerfully admit that, on occasion, there's nothing like a self-administered orgasm to cheer up a dull day or switch off my brain for sleep but - and this may come as a massive surprise to you, I know - sometimes, I'd just like to read a bloody book.