I am of the opinion that women should be able to have as much sex as they want, as often as they want, with as many partners as they want without fear of judgement. Is this an outlandish statement? No more so than their male counterparts living the same way for centuries.
Why is it that we feel guilty? Why is it, that we as women feel like we don’t have choice? I know I am not the only one. I have sat around a comfy couch or 10 with a cup of delish red in my hand and listened for hours to my girlfriends who complained of mediocre sex and relationships, and yet did nothing about it. It was as if the Samantha Jones’ of the world were exclusively fictional. What if I was to tell you that you had choice? What if I was to tell my 15 year old, 20 year old, 25 year old selves that I had the same option? How different would our pasts be? How different would your tomorrow be?
Where does this element of choice come in? Why do we choose to settle? Are we that desperate t
o fill that empty side of the bed that we settle for anything and everything? Or are we t
he neighbourhood THOT who also has made that choice? While there is certainly no judgement from th
is side of the screen, it makes me wonder what our choices are getting us?
I had a boyfriend when I was 15. He was my first boyfriend. If I am being completely honest, he was my first love and the one I wish I had lost my v-card to. He was caring, hilarious, musically inclined, and his interest in philosophy captivated me. We never made it past third base. But then in college, I handed that card out to a handsome rugby player who I was bored with-in five seconds? Fast forward to 2017, why is it that the handsome light skinned Francophone single dad who made me hot and sweaty (worse than a fat lady chasing an ice cream truck), I let slip through my fingers because I wasn’t able to “have a one night stand.” Couldn’t or wouldn’t? Who the hell decides these things anyways? Since when did the feminist in me revert back to a woman a prude could be proud of?
As I ponder these thoughts, thoughts of THOTs run through my mind. Will I be thought of as a THOT if I choose to have the sex life I want? What if Nicki could’ve been known for her incredible rap skills from her BET cypher skills instead of her body?
What would happen if, armed with proactive and informed knowledge, I began to live out and start to again practice what I preach. What if I start to exemplify choice? What if YOU start to as well? What would our bedrooms look like? Would that tired fool from down the block still be there? Would your husband still be settling for a quick peck on the cheek then dropping his drawers?
I don’t have the answer. But what I do have is choice. And that is power.