Call me a slut
Because I have a vagina.
And I think that’s pretty fucking cool but,
Apparently,
it’s not okay for me to think of myself
in terms of sex.
Because my sex is supposed to be
a pure virginal lamb
to be sacrificed on the alter of my marriage bed–
but if I don’t put out for you
I’m a bitch
or a prude
or whatever else it is you want to call me,
because my sex is
Apparently
not mine to share with whomever I please
and it just kills you to think I might have shared it
Willingly
with someone else.
Because virginity is meant to be taken, not shared, right?
So
If I’m not allowed to give it away
and not allowed to keep it for myself
then what the fuck do I do with it?
No, tell me, I’m genuinely confused.
Because I was not aware that anyone owned me.
My boyfriend’s friend wouldn’t hug me
Without permission from my boyfriend.
Call it a sign of respect all you want
But who was he respecting
Me?
Or my boyfriend’s property?
We’ve had sex, so he owns me, right?
He’s taken my virginity from me and
placed it on a mantel like a trophy,
While I hide my face in shame because I let it slip through my fingers
before he put a ring on them.
Wait a second, no.
I shared it with him
Willingly
And when his friend asked if he could hug me
his response was “Ask her”
Because my hugs are mine.
My sex is mine.
My body is mine.
And since when do you care what I do with my vagina?
How does it affect you
If I sleep with one man or a hundred?
It doesn’t, does it?
And if I sleep with a woman?
Well, you’d probably want to watch
because nothing turns straight men on
quite like gay sex, am I right?
Maybe you’re just jealous it’s not you that I’m fucking
So go ahead, call me a slut.
I fucking dare you.
Stevie Tayntor is a student at Marywood University who majors in English and is thinking about adding writing and women’s studies minors. Her dream is to one day quit her job and write novels full time, but in the mean time she writes, crochets, draws, and spends way to much time procrastinating on important papers.