Behind a promiscuous girl is a lonely one. I’m approached by so-called friends who say things like, “Who’s the conquest of the week?” My usual response, “Another day, another sext.” You see, my success rate is roughly 90%. That is, I’m 90% successful at conquering the men that I seek. Now don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t always been that way. I had my awkward girl phase where I wasn’t confident in my own skin, and I’ve been rejected by men who I really sought out. There have been times when I’m loyal and in a monogamous relationship, which means we’re having sex almost every day. But boy, let me tell you, those times in between relationships are like I’m in heat. Partially because every time I get out of one I get symptomatic. My diagnosis: bipolar disorder. My trigger: love. The remedy: promiscuity.
In my ma’s generation, Colombian culture, and religion, promiscuity is, well, frowned upon. I asked my ma to define what promiscuity meant to her, to which she replied, “high sexual drive that is expressed freely with different partners.” She then added, “if it were with the same partner it would not be called promiscuity.” Which made me think about Baskin-Robbins’ 31 Flavors for a second. If there are 31 flavors, why would I go and treat myself to the same flavor every single time? There are options for a reason, and when you’re young, I believe that you’re supposed to taste all of the flavors. Flavors meaning men. How are you supposed to know what you want to commit to for a lifetime if you feel like you’re missing out on something? The idea of committing isn’t daunting. What’s scary is becoming a boring lover or losing the flame that used to spark.
In my generation, promiscuity has been taken to a whole new level, from OnlyFans accounts to one-night stands to having phone sex with someone you met on Bumble, not in person, because of the pandemic. Our sexting game is strong, and being scared to send a nude is something of the past. At the end of the day, all of these things are OK if you’re aware of your actions and own them. You go home to yourself every night, and what matters is whether or not you are comfortable being in your own skin. Every night I go home to a lonely girl, but not because I have no options of who I could spend my time with. I go home to the lonely girl because to be promiscuous is a label that the patriarchy has put upon women who choose to express themselves and their sexuality. I’m a big proponent of owning my pu$$y, so I choose to experience all the flavors and not feel bad about it.
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