What I Learned From Being A Slutty Slag

Even in our modern world, where ‘feminist’ is a sexy term to be thrown about in branding meetings, plastered across T-shirts and hashtagged by reality TV stars, there is still a lingering shame for a woman who has had a lot of sex. Take Miley Cyrus who, on 5 October, posted an impassioned statement about slut- shaming on Twitter (the background::a[she split from Liam Hemsworth in August]{href='https://graziadaily.co.uk/celebrity/news/miley-cyrus-liam-hemsworth-split-3/' target='_blank' rel='noopener noreferrer'}, had a summer fling with reality star Kaitlynn Carter then, two weeks later, started a romance with singer Cody Simpson). ‘Men (especially successful ones) are rarely slut-shamed,’ she shared. ‘They move on from one beautiful woman to the next, most times without consequence. They are referenced as “legends”, “heart- throbs”... women are called “sluts” and “whores”’! I am just trying to THRIVE.’ Like Miley, I’ve done my fair share of 'thriving’.

In my opinion, ‘slagging about’ can be a really positive life experience. ‘Slut’ and ‘slag’ are traditionally insults, but I’m a proud slutty slag. I think it’s hot to be a slag, I’m proud of my sexual history and I don’t mind who knows about it. By sleeping with loads of people you can learn a lot about yourself, other people, sex and interior design. And I’m grateful that I’ve done it.

There is a myth woven into our society, through fairy tales and soap operas, that all women everywhere want a boyfriend – or maybe a girlfriend – and that if we don’t have one we’re miserable. Built into this myth is the belief that the only reason a woman would open her legs is to capture that boyfriend, and if he doesn’t stick around afterwards, the whole shebang has been a failure and she will cry while eating ice cream and re-watchingBridget Jones.

But that’s not always the case. Some women love sex for sex’s sake. We just wanna get laid – and whether that partner sticks around is often an afterthought. Some people like skiing: I know, it’s madness. They like spending hundreds of pounds on ugly clothes, and hours carrying around heavy equipment, just for the thrill of speeding down a mountain and looking at the view – even though one mistake could land them with broken limbs or worse.

For me, being a slag is a hell of a lot more thrilling and less expensive than skiing. I love making eyes at strangers across dark rooms. Ilove flirting, subtly trying to work out if this person is available and whether they want to shag me. I love the feeling when I know it’s inevitable, we both know we’re gonna shag and we’re just dragging out the verbal foreplay for fun. I even love the adrenaline of potential rejection, and the nervous energy you get from making yourself vulnerable in that way. I love seeing a new naked body, I love exploring it and finding out what makes it work. I love sex. I love coming. I love talking to strangers while they’re naked in post-orgasm glow. I love watching someone try to fill the awkwardness of a hungover morning after. I love being a slag – and I’m not the only one.

When people call me a slut – which has happened a sprinkling of times to my face, and probably much more often behind my back – I always think they’re probably jealous. The first time I clearly remember being called a slut was during the classic ‘Never have I ever’ game, often played during freshers’ week. It’s a tense rite of passage, in which many people lie about the state of their virginity. I felt lucky. I’d hadan adolescence full of shagging, so as I knocked back my vodka squash to the classic threesome question, probably with a smug grin on my face, I was shocked to hear someone say, ‘Well, we all know who the slut is now’ – as though that was a bad thing. Poor them, I thought. Bet they wish they’d had a threesome in the toilet of a house party when they were 17.

I’m older and wiser now. I’ve been having threesomes in toilets for a decade. By the end of this year, I thought I would have slept with over 50 people; unfortunately, I fell into a glorious monogamous love just before the milestone. Still, it’s something to look forward to if this one isn’t forever. I’m grateful I’ve been a slag. It’s given me some of the fondest memories and biggest thrills of my life. I’ve met some great friends, and everyone I’ve ever fallen in love with, I’ve slept with on the first date. It’s taught me about the beautiful variation of the human body, and how many different bodies I think are super-hot. It’s taught me that my naked form is capable of giving many, many people boners, and lady-boners, and that has helped me on my own journey to body confidence. I’ve learned about the wide range of people’s sexual fantasies: that there are women out there who want to spank you, and men out there who want you to spank them, and everything in-between.

I know that the slag life ain’t for everyone. Just like I’ve tried skiing and decided that I will never go again,some people have had a one-night stand and don’t want another one. And that’s fine; if there’s one thing the slag life teaches you, it’s that it takes different strokes for different folks.

‘How To Have Feminist Sex: A Fairly Graphic Guide’ by Flo Perry is out now

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