Mommy, When I Grow Up I Want to be a Slut
If you are a girl, and are less than average in the looks department, your options are drastically narrowed. In college, inner beauty clearly has as much use as a book on how to read, at least as far as getting laid goes. So what options are left to those of us who are ugly ducklings with stunted growth and no hope of reaching the ever elusive swan-ville?
You can either:
A) Take the route of showing a percentage of skin inversely proportional to your physical attractiveness (which can of course backfire if that number is the percentage of a very large number) or,
B) Cultivate your personality, wit and charm to assure you some company through the lonely college nights.
Unfortunately, as a lot of picking up occurs in bars and nightclubs, where the deafening music renders sight your only companion, your humorous lines can go unheard. Even more unfortunate for the ugly ones is the fact that a man's blood supply usually can't support both ends of his body, so if you're standing close to your more attractive friend, chances are his oxygen-starved and functionally retarded brain cells won't be able to comprehend the uproariously funny comeback you had been saving up.
Thus my conclusion to become a slut.
Sluts are much smarter than you think. They might not be smart in the conventional sense, like sums, or writing, but as long as they can spell their own name, phone number and "for a good time," they're golden. They also understand men a whole lot better than non-sluts do. For example, they have worked out how to pick up guys using minimal effort: appeal to their penises. As the true control-center of man, the penis's needs and desires should be the main consideration in any attempt to secure services of said man.
It goes something like this:
Girl: I only ever wear thongs; that's when I bother to wear underwear at all.
Penis: Me so horny.
However, when discounting this theory:
Girl: I only ever read Tolstoy; that's when I even bother with male authors.
Penis: Me so bored, when nakey time?
The grinding slut gets the worm.But of course, a slut's main appeal doesn't originate from what comes out of her mouth, but what goes in (how could I not?). No really, it comes from her clothes (or lack thereof). This is one of the quickest ways to spot a slut from a non-slut -- and as pre-judging people based on their physical appearance is a time-honored practice of efficiency as well as a source of amusement, it is not likely to end soon.
It's not just a slut's skimpy appearance and bounteous cleavage (real or enforced with numerous padded devices) that sets her apart. Blonde hair (real or dyed, and sometimes with those oh-so attractive dark roots), over-applied makeup, and an excess of jingling jewelry to warn unsuspecting victims are also giveaways. The slut is usually the most confident girl in the group, has sweat (her own and at least five other males mixed together) dripping down her ass from grinding for the last four hours on the dance floor, and will talk over you and bellow out a loud obnoxious laugh, all of which you will endure as payment for her satisfying your carnal desires (and giving your hand a break).
When it comes down to it, sluts are just plain lazy. They have found the shortcut between being alone and going home with some poor shmuck, and are too tired and impatient to wait for a respectful gentleman to come pounding down their door and like them for who they are. Therefore, sluts are also realists, since those respectful gentlemen (if they exist) are already taken by some swan that was only ever really half an ugly duckling, while the true ugly ducklings are stuck paddling in the loser-guy pond.
So, armed with the characteristics of what makes a good slut (there should really only be one: can be encouraged to have sex with minimal effort; however, I have shown there are in fact several, thus the need for a plural) what should be left but to apply said characteristics to myself and put them into practice?
(I have of course left out the whole "doesn't give a shit about her reputation" thing, but sooner or later a woman's sex drive begins to invade her brain cells and things like reputation, morals and religion become disposable entities.)
Thus, on with the plan: lure the unwitting boy with my newly discovered slutty charms, then once he is in my power, drop a can of awesome personality on his ass and watch as amazement and lust translates into a relationship and declarations of undying love.
Well, maybe there are a few creases to iron out. Perhaps I need to work on getting more of the "slutty realist" perspective, and losing the "fairytale bullshit" one I'm currently using to delude myself. Hmm, maybe I'm not so cut out to be a slut. Between the barrage of insults and eye-daggers from non-slut girls, it's really not as easy as it looks. No wonder they need so much sex to cheer them up.














16 Comments
I've practiced your plan before, and the important factor that is often missing in this "slut to love of his life" transition is respect. Men who don't respect you won't even consider loving you. Unfortunately I've had to learn that the hard way. So when a guy only sees you as a sex toy, and not as a human being with a real brain, showing him that you're a complete individual might not bring about the results you were hoping for.
Regardless, you're a gorgeous girl, so I doubt you currently suffer from any sort of ugly duckling syndrome.
Sluts always eluded me. I never could stoop to treating them poorly. I always gave them respect and intelligent conversation, which, it seems, is a big turnoff to sluts. They apparently want to be used and abused. I've never had a sadistic bone in my body, and being the doomed prisoner of rationalism never helped either. Sluts don't go for the quiet, nerdy guy at the bar that's afraid to make eye contact. Sluts are immediately attracted to the obnoxious, trendy-looking douche-bag that give them a stupid line about how their dress would look good on their floor.
If I was a girl, I think I'd be a slut. Life's too short. Women have the gift of multiple orgasms so I'd own a hundred million vibrators and write my own name on men's bathroom walls. I'd play with my boobs all day long and attend to a glory hole as a parttime hobby. 'Pornstar' would be my ultimate professional goal.
That kinda sounds like "nice guys finish last and women always go for the assholes". Did you ever think that maybe the assholes are just more entertaining than you? A "slut" doesn't want a deep, meaningful relationship with a decent person. They just want a fun night. I'm dating one of those "nice guys" now. I had more fun with the assholes, I just figured it was time to settle down.
You can be a helluva lot more honest with the sluts. They are realists, just like most guys are.
And besides, they're not horribly self-conscious, they're good in bed and are generally okay to wake up next to because they want to leave as bad as you want them to.
Just rubber up...rubber up.
Well Julie, it appears that my wife and I both have that awful 'nice' label. I'm immensely happy and plan to grow old with her. It was a lucky shot in the dark that we ever met and got together because I had no luck at all before I met her. That whole "nice guys finish last" definitely applies to me. Thankfully, luck finally shined on me. It is possible to find true love in a dive bar. I did.
Thanks for that wonderful slap, "Did you ever think that maybe the assholes are just more entertaining than you?"
What's considered entertainment to you? Donkey punches? Golden showers? Karaoke? Golf? Obviously not intellectual conversation! I bet "pull my finger" gets your juices flowing!
GT, that kind of hurts me. In college, I got a few chicks with cheesy jokes and forceful optimism. I kept trying to tell you to dumb it down and yuck it up, but you insisted on being smart and sensitive.
Jerk.
Tom,
You've made as many biased assumptions about me as I have about you. For your information, I am not lacking intellectual capacity. I go to a good university that I'm going to graduate soon (with honors, may I add). Pull my finger jokes aren't funny to me. Why do you think that when I said "assholes" I meant "dumb asses". I've mad a TON of really smart guys who are jerks. They can provide me lots of stimulating thought, but also don't allow me to push them around. An example: I met a "nice guy", and on our first date to a restaurant neither of us had been at, he asked me what he should order. This is called missing a backbone. I like assertiveness, and that is what I meant by assholes. They also do messed up things to girls, but that comes along with it sometimes.
Ok, corrections, just because you decided that I'm stupid:
dumbasses
met* instead of "mad a ton"
....wow I should really get back to my day job.
Why Nate, did you just assume I was talking about you? You're not a douche-bag. You sir, and I've told you this before, ooze sex-appeal. Girls jump off buildings to get next to you. That's a gift, as well as a curse. Crazy whores have corrupted you, and keep you from finding a nice, sweet girl that you can introduce to your mother, the minister. Just curious, how many girlfriends has she met?
Julie, glad to hear it's supposed to be 'met' instead of 'made'. What school? The guy in the restaurant sounds like he wanted you to fuck him with a strap-on. You must have intimidated him. He's probably a masochist and is now being happily treated like a bitch. Unless he's still in college, which means that's he probably being pussy-whipped by some mean bitch who probably doesn't even let him masturbate, which he secretly likes.
You know what sums up communication in 2008? The fact that I have Tom's phone number, keep the same hours as him and live in the same state, and yet here we are communicating in the comment box of an article written by a woman in Australia and published by a guy in Atlanta. That's odd.
Anyway, GT, I didn't ooze anything. I think maybe I just didn't think as much as you about, well, anything. And maybe that's why you've found love and I've found a lot of cheap fun. At any rate, you never wanted sluts so you didn't get too many of them. And look at you now? All growed up.
Though it did take you a while.
Yep. The internet is both a boon and a bane. The blog nation is killing traditional news media. Mass media is now "massive media". Where to go and who to trust are big issues. What's good, what's bad, and how to I avoid/find it? Hollywood, among many, releases thousands of movies, TV shows, and music titles every year. How do you keep up with all of that? How do you not get overwhelmed? If you turn away, you might actually miss something that could be considered art. If you stay tuned-in, you're dumbed-down by reality TV and fluff-bloggery.
Like my late friend Mike, you have natural sex appeal. You have 'it'. Girls like 'it'. Yes, confidence is part of 'it' and you do have a 'swagger'. Time to grow out the hair again. And there were certainly sluts that I fawned over while living in UTA, some you knew of. And damnit, I'm not all growed-up! I'm immature for 40 I swear! It keeps me young-looking-ish. But you're right, I talked my way out of many hookups.
Grandpa Tom, you wise old bastard, I remember one time in college, when you made me re-think my whole outlook on women in general. I took it seriously and the conversation got deep (as they often did with you when not discussing football or music). Somewhere in that conversation, you got to talking about what makes a sweet girl. And then you described a specific girl in the neighborhood that I had known intamately. When I told you that it was a one night thing with her, you lost your point (got a little pissed, too), and I went back to thinking about girls in my own immature way again. But for one fleeting moment, I saw girls from your point of view.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: they're just people. No better, no worse and no more complex.
Oh, and Victoria, sorry for hijacking your comment box. Good luck at the slut thing.
The "percentage of skin inversely proportional to your physical attractiveness" tends to reach critical mass at a certain point. With larger girls this point is when the guy gets an impression of the girls actual mass (I'm talking to you "Girls wearing belly shirt that is more belly than shirt"). With the rest its usually when the lack of clothing enhances the negative physical features, like bad skin or lack of/abundance of junk in the trunk(dependent on target audience).
The true key to a mans pants is to find the right areas to expose to draw away from the negative areas, such as cleavage to draw attention from a butterface, or showing leg to draw away from lack of cleavage. That way they won't notice until your naked, and won't care until they sober up.
Ah, that reminds me of a joke someone once told me: What's the difference between a slut and a bitch? A slut fucks everybody, and a bitch fucks everybody but you.
Julies right your far from ugly, just don't expect the type of guys hanging out in clubs to be interested in you as a person. If you want that join some college club that involves either dancing, the outdoors etc etc etc etc
That's kind of weird GT. I was thinking of the same joke when I read this article. Truth about sluts and normal chicks is it's really hard to tell the difference between the two or is it that every chick I dated was a slut?
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