The Slut Rant: Redefining My Life
by Beverly Fisher, Slut at Large and Woman of Easy Virtue

People often ask me why I call my book “The Slut Rants.” “You shouldn’t call yourself a slut,” they say. “You’re a good person.” I am a good person. This is true. I am also a slut.

I use the word “slut” deliberately. I’m also rather fond of “whore.” I am both. But, people tell me, these are words we use in our culture to denote a woman of poor character, and loose morals. When we think of sluts, we think of promiscuity, of degradation. We think of women who are out of control, driven by low self-esteem to seek love in all the wrong places. Sluts are sad creatures, victims of their own outrageous and raging desires, objects of pity and scorn.

But – what if none of those things is true? What if it’s possible that a woman can have the same sexual desires and drives as a man? Even then, men, like women, are supposed to settle down eventually into a nice monogamous relationship, and end their wild ways. What if I don’t want a nice monogamous relationship? What if I want to love as many people as possible? What if love had no boundaries or limits? I reclaim the word “slut.” I make it my own.

Defining terms

Most dictionaries say that the word “slut” is from the Middle English “slutte,” the usage of which dates back to 1400. At that time, the word meant a filthy, slovenly woman and had no suggestion of sexual promiscuity. It came to mean “a sexually immoral woman” at some point in the fifteenth century. The real origin of the word is unknown, though some scholars think it originates in Germanic languages, literally meaning “mud.”

My modern dictionary defines a slut as 1. a dirty, slovenly woman. 2. An immoral or dissolute woman. Impure.

Well, I bathe regularly, so I suppose definition two is the one meant to apply to me. “Dissolute,” by the way, is defined as “indifferent to moral restraints; given to immoral or improper conduct; licentious.” If you don’t know what “licentious” means, come on over and I’ll show you.

The first time I ever heard the word “slut” whispered behind my back (a little too loudly), I was feeling particularly pleased with myself. I was talking with a boy I found attractive, and I felt good. Self-confident. Proud, even. I heard the word then. Sluts, you see, aren’t supposed to feel too good about themselves. Good girls are shy and retiring, averting their eyes, crossing their legs. Good girls are a little unsure, a bit nervous. A slut will look you in the eye confidently and smile. Her smile says everything. It’s a sales pitch, a declaration, and a seduction all in one.

Being a good girl has got to be the most boring thing I can imagine. It’s nice to feel good about myself, to feel confident. But too much confidence and you’ll hear the slut word – usually from other women. Women feel threatened by sluts. On one level, I think it’s pure jealousy. On another, I know that they’re terribly afraid we’re going to steal their men. Like a guy is just a helpless creature, buffeted by the winds of his libido, utterly at the mercy of any woman who so much as glances his way.

Sluts steal husbands and boyfriends, you know. The men aren’t at fault. They can’t help it, you see. Their sexuality is uncontrollable. It’s not their responsibility if they cheat on their wives or girlfriends. It’s the fault of the slut who trapped them with her wicked feminine wiles. They simply couldn’t resist the siren’s call. Seriously though, I’m hardly a friggen’ mermaid, and every man I’ve ever been with was a perfectly capable, thinking adult. On the other hand, I’ve never gone for someone’s husband or boyfriend before, either. I’m an ethical slut.

I don’t believe in poaching on someone else’s turf. It’s too messy, too many complications. And I enjoy sex far too much to want encumbrances like secrecy and jealousy. I like my relationships like my lovers – squeaky clean and smelling fresh. Women who go after other women’s husbands or wives are not sluts, in my book. They’re scum. Sluts are nice girls like me who love sex and aren’t afraid to say so.

Like a man

I have been accused of “acting like a man,” because I actively seek sex, the way men do. I go on the hunt. I prowl. I scope things out. I give myself permission to have sexual desire, and I allow myself to seek satiation of that desire. Good girls are supposed to just sit quietly and let the lovers come to them. We are supposed to be the objects of the hunt, not the hunters.

In the eighties, during the second sexual revolution, I enjoyed going to bars and flirting, actively seeking partners for my bed that evening. It was fun, exhilarating, a rush. I can see what men enjoy about it. There’s something delightful about the chase, the dance that two people engage in before the final culmination.

Like men, I’ve had lots of lovers, not just one or two before I settled down into a nice monogamous marriage. That, above all else, makes me a slut – that I’ve had many, many lovers, and enjoyed them all. And, I believe I can say, in all modesty, that they had a hell of a time with me.

It’s that old quandry: how can men gain so much sexual experience, if all the girls are being good girls and saying no? The answer, or course, is that they gain their sexual experience from the sluts of the world. Why is it that having many lovers and being experienced is lauded in men, and viewed so negatively in women? Even whores, obviously having many sexual encounters, are derided if they are in the business too long – for having too much experience. It’s wrong, some contend, for women to have too much sexual knowledge. And they should never have more than their partner, especially if he’s a man.

Sluts actually like men, and enjoy spending time with them. Not just as husbands, but as pals, buddies, friends. Nice girls hang out with other women – as long as they’re straight. If you’re queer, you’re supposed to be ashamed of that and hide it. But you knew that, right?

Good Girls vs. Bad Girls

Women are supposed to “save themselves,” if not for marriage, then for true love. And I tried, I really did. But my desires were too powerful, my need for adventure and variety too strong. Was it low self-esteem and a need to be loved? Well, in the beginning, that was probably true to a certain extent.

I definitely felt a lack of love and acceptance growing up. My family loved me, but not all of me, not all the time. I was only loved when I was being a Good Girl. Being a Good Girl means a variety of things. Good Girls work hard in school and don’t have sex, for one thing. Good Girls don’t get angry or upset, either. They are meek and happy. Today, that seems an oxymoron to me. I can’t imagine being happy while at the same time being meek. At any rate, I wasn’t very good at being a Good Girl. I was noisy and opinionated, I couldn’t sit still, and I was prone to temper tantrums. No one was happy with me much of the time.

When I discovered sex, it was like I had found a place where I belonged. Not so much belonging with my lovers, but it was the sex itself that simply felt so right. I loved it. I wallowed in it. I couldn’t get enough of it. Lonely little Bad Girl that I was, when I was able to connect with another person on a physical level, it fulfilled me on an emotional level that had been denied for far too long. I truly was out of control, and looking for love in all the wrong places. But what I lacked in self-esteem I made up for in sexual skill. With every partner, I gathered new knowledge, new ideas.

I hid my teenage sexual life very carefully. My classmates at school had no idea. I made sure my boyfriends were from other schools, other places, so that I could avoid the dreaded “slut” label. There were girls at school who wore the scarlet “S.” I remember one girl in particular they called slut. She showed up to school wearing a necklace of hickeys. She was a slut, I wasn’t. The difference? Discretion. I think there are a whole lot less Good Girls than people realize. There’s just a lot of Bad Girls who are good at hiding it. Shame is the name of the game, baby.

When I was 17, I had a boyfriend dump me because (and I swear he used these words) I am not the kind of girl you can take home to mother. I was horrified. I thought, how stupid – he was screwing me at the same time I was screwing him. Why is he okay, and I’m not? And by God, he sure seemed to be enjoying it. Some months later, he tried to get back together with me, and I snubbed him. He was not the kind of guy I wanted to take home to my mother.

So much of slut-ness is wrapped up in guilt and shame. We are supposed to feel bad about ourselves for our behavior. We are supposed to want something else, a happy little monogamous relationship, somewhere in the suburbs. Accessories like a big SUV, big credit card bills, and 2.5 kids are part of the total package. This, I was taught, was my ultimate goal. But it just didn’t feel right to me. I never really wanted that. I thought I did, at one point. As I grew up I internalized all of society’s messages about what’s right and what’s expected. So I tried to be a Good Girl, I really did. But I sucked at it. Because it just wasn’t what’s natural for me.

I tried the happy suburbanite route for three years. I was happy for a few months, playing Holly Homemaker and baking, raising my daughter. But after awhile life felt stale and empty. My husband was no longer interested in sex, and I could think of little else.

When we finally split up, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I went on slut sex-fest and had an absolutely incredible time. Sluts actually enjoy sex. Good Girls do it with the lights out, missionary position only, and lay there and tolerate it for the sake of pleasing their husbands, or making babies. Sluts like me really get into sex, and let it show. We actively seek out sex, talk about it. We buy vibrators and dildos for when we can’t get it. Did you know that it’s illegal to buy vibrators in the state of Texas? You can buy a gun, but not a vibrator. There are some uptight Good Girls running that state, no doubt. Masturbating is slutty. So is talking dirty, role-playing, and just plain doing it with the lights on. I don’t care. I like to see what’s going on. What if I miss something?

Because it feels good

As I grew into adulthood, I felt better and better about myself. Today I would say my self-esteem is at an all-time high. In a variety of ways, I keep improving with age. Contrary to the slut stereotype, the better I feel about myself, the happier I am being a slut. I love seeking out new partners, and I just love sex.

They say sex is better with someone you love, and I would agree with that. But it’s still pretty damned good with someone you just like.

It’s especially hard being a bisexual slut, because that’s one of the stereotypes of bisexuality – that we’ll do it with anything that holds still long enough. Sluts are accused of being non-discriminatory, willing to have sex with anyone who wants them. This just isn’t true. I’m very picky about who I take into my bed (though I have made some bad decisions, here and there). I don’t just jump into bed with people within hours of meeting them, as a rule, though I’ve broken that rule on occasion and not been sorry.

I’ve had sex on the first date. I’ve had one-night stands. I’ve had purely sexual relationships, and I’ve had deep, meaningful love connections. With regard to my sexual self, I have no regrets. I have some regrets with regard to relationships I’ve been in, when I was practicing serial monogamy. I’ve hurt people I cared about, and I regret that intensely.

I used to think that if the right person came along, I would settle down happily into a monogamous relationship, and it would fit and feel right. I would never want sex from anyone else ever again. I also used to think that even if the right person came along, they wouldn’t want me, because I am a slut. What perfect person would want to be with someone who’s slept with all of those people?

And let’s not forget the premise that sluts spread disease. They have too many children too. I’ve only got one child, and not by accident. I’ve always used birth control and condoms, and test clean for STDs. In my entire slut career, I’ve had one STD, when I was 20 years old. I caught Chlamydia from a law school student. Future lawyer. Figures.

Sluts feel badly about themselves, we’re told. They have no self-respect. It’s funny, but now that I’ve given up on the idea of monogamy and traditional relationships, I feel better about myself than I ever have. I am content, comfortable in my own slutty skin.

Kissing friends

All through my life, beginning in my teenage years and continuing to this day, I have had what I call “kissing friends.” These were fellow sluts like myself. We would have sex on occasion, purely for the joy that was in it, an expression of our friendship and closeness, and a way of giving one another pleasure. There were no messy entanglements or expectations of romantic, monogamous relationships – we were just friends. One kissing friend in particular, I remember having sex with her one day, and helping her try to get together with a new lover the next.

These kissing friends have been both male and female, close friends and acquaintances, and even in one case a nanny I’d hired to take care of my daughter. I have lived with them, lived apart from them, but always maintained tight friendships with the vast majority of them.

My first kissing friend was in high school, I was sixteen. Her name was Donna, and she was beautiful. I was spending the night one night and we just started fooling around. It was wonderful. Our friendship didn’t change in the slightest afterward, to my great surprise and pleasure. We stayed friends for many years, playing with one another and her boyfriend (he was a voracious slut, too).

Sometimes I’ve made mistakes. I’ve had sex with a friend, thinking they could be a kissing friend, only to have them demand a monogamous relationship after sex became a part of the equation. That’s messy, and unfair (on my part). I had tried to make my intentions clear, but sex can muddy things. People think they just want sex when in reality they want something more.

I had a good female friend and we fell into bed. Afterwards, she became clingy and possessive, wanting more from me than I was willing to give. I was already engaged to someone else, for chrissakes. She knew that, but still wanted more. The guy I was engaged to was a fellow slut and an understanding sort, thankfully. It was definitely complicated.

So I’m a bit more careful today with kissing friends, waiting to ascertain if someone really is emotionally and socially advanced enough before initiating sex. I am grateful that I have a handful of wonderful kissing friends today, that we can be so close and yet play together sexually. It is the ultimate in sluttiness, and it’s so much fun. Who better to share your bed with than a close friend?

The ethical slut

I always thought that perhaps my kissing friends and myself were the only ones who lived our lives this way. I don’t often meet people who understand the concept of kissing friends. Most folks think in the dominant monogamy paradigm. They believe sex is for romantic relationships, and preferably marriage. And that’s the end of it. I can understand, because I used to try to live my life that way, too. I practiced serial monogamy, but I didn’t count “kissing friends.” I didn’t see how fooling around with friends could have any negative impact at all on any relationship I happened to be in. The way I express my sexuality doesn’t affect my feelings toward someone. Not an easy concept for most people to deal with.

But then I discovered that I’m not alone. I found this amazing book, The Ethical Slut, by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt. The book explores thoroughly the concept of sluthood, especially in regards to polyamorous relationships. In other words, walking away from the concept of monogamy and exploring a whole new way of loving people – having kissing friends, and lots of them.

The authors, wonderful sluts themselves, discuss the concept of ethics and how it relates to sluthood. Mostly it’s about not hurting other people, and making others feel good. The authors describe a slut as “a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you.”

Imagine a world where people aren’t afraid or ashamed of sex, but just choose to make themselves and others feel good. Traditional Western thought, particularly religious thought, holds that sex is for procreation only. I’ve always thought that the clitoris, that tiny little organ designed for nothing more than to give a woman pleasure, is proof of the existence of God. Only some magnificent higher being could have invented something so lovely.

Sex simply feels good. Today I revel in my body, in my sexuality. As I approach my fortieth birthday, it seems that sex just keeps getting better and better.

More important, I choose now to shun traditional models of relationships. I spent my whole life searching for that elusive perfect lover, who would make me settle down and be happy. I realize that I’m happier than I’ve ever been, now that I’m not trying to create the suburban dream marriage. I love my kissing friends and find great love is returned to me. I have tremendous self-respect and love, despite what the rest of society says. There are many different ways of loving in this world, and I’m exploring all of them. I’m a slut. I am proud of that. And good at it, too.

 

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