Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Slut stigma




Everyone knows how much I love to talk about sex. Truth be told, I talk about it way more than I actually engage in it. Which sucks. Big time. 


But enough about my stagnant love life... One of my very dear bloggy friends, Holly over at Bitchin'... But Not A Bitch, has graced me with the pleasure of a guest post. Her post is about America's favorite past time. Baseball, you say? I think not. Today, we're talking about sex. More specifically, all the sex people assume you're having once the hymen is breached. Crude, I know, but let's remember whose blog you're on.


Holly's blog, I think, has accomplished something on one blog that I need two blogs to do: she has blended a mixture of warmth and wisdom with a little touch of bitch thrown in for good measure. Please stop by her blog and tell her the Bitch sent you. 


Now that all the niceties are out of the way, bloggers and blogettes, I give you Holly...



Post-baby and pre-marriage, a stigma follows you, telling people you're a slut. It might be true, or it might not; but the cat is out of the bag regarding your virginity. And not being a virgin is all it takes to become a slut.

Before the stitches had even dissolved, men were trying to have sex with me. But not really trying, because they didn't think they had to, so more just making lewd comments and inviting me into their bed or futon in their apartment or van, depending on their degree of creepy.

This is one such story.

I worked at the Olive Garden: a breeding ground for single people of all ages who like to fool around with their co-workers (I didn't know that when I took the job [or I would have offered to waitress for free]). One of the joys of working in a restaurant is never having a set schedule, but being at their beck and call for every lunch and every dinner. So it was one of these days when I was working a double (knowing Ms. Hyde's readers must be bright to keep up with her sharp wit, I will not explain the obviousness of this term) that a co-worker approached me about hanging out with me between meals. He had some 
innocuous one syllable name, like Ron or Rob - either of which he was too young for. He wasn't particularly attractive (balding but not quite bald - and still at that awkward length where he isn't sure if he's going to grow it into a comb-over or shave it off completely). These factors considered, I should have told him to fuck off. But I mistook his patheticness for harmlessness. 

So I drove him back to my place (he didn't have a car - see previous sentences). I had no intention of even saying his god-awful name, let alone fooling around with him. So I went about my daily chores - like feeding my puppy in an upside-down frisbee since I had spent all my money boozing. It was while I was putting the Kibbles back under the sink that Ro(b/n) called out from my bedroom. I turned around (it was a tiny one-bedroom apartment and you could see the entire place from the kitchen) to see his blue sailboat boxers around his ankles. And that's when he said it:

"Are we going to have sex or what?"


I went for the "or what" and drove him back to the OG in what has to have been the most awkward 3.1 miles of all time.

The next day, neither Rob nor Ron reported for his scheduled shift.

I have never seen him since. And in all these days since, I have never lost a moment of sleep about the one that got away.

But I'm sure he has. I have that affect on pathetic people.

Let this be a lesson to you men: if you want to wow a girl, get a car.
And more than that, wait to drop trou until she wants to see what you've got underneath.
Yeah, the second one is more important. Unless she's a gold-digger.

14 comments:

  1. Great guest post! Thanks for sharing Holly with us Mrs. Hyde. ...I thought shizz like that only happened to my crazy friend who lives out in the desert. She stopped by her house to feed her dog and when showing her new friend around her place he quickly dropped his drawers and scared the bejeezus out of her when she turned around. I think she responded by pointing, laughing and then telling him to get the hell out and NOT come back. It doesn't matter if they are 16 or 85, some of the male species don't have a damn lick of sense!

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  2. Wow, some people have no tact.

    Hilarious story and great guest post!!!!

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  3. He needs to work on his wooing for sure hahah.

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  4. Wow....That's all I can say to that...LOL

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  5. ugh. that creepy "let's hook the fuck up!" attitude can be found in just about every restaurant type establishment. it's so gross.

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  6. Men are all clueless they think if they show us their silly little dick we will want to jump all over it go figure and most of the time they do have a little dick that we have to squint to see............and then when we start laughing they get all upset and angry and we are like did we ask to see your silly little dick you fool....

    This was one great guess post..........

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  7. brilliant guest post. I cant help wondering if he has previously had good results from that smooth move.
    I shall have to pop over and visit at Holly's place

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  8. Fabulous Post and aside from that all I can say is..WOW. lol

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  9. Seriously. You had me at sailboat boxers.

    www.alotoflayers.blogspot.com

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  10. Sounds like someone watched too much porn and took a scenario to heart.

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  11. Thanks Ms. Hyde for the opportunity to post on your site. And you're welcome for the perfect opportunity to say, "hymen."

    Thanks everyone else for the comments and visiting my site. I wish I could say this story never actually happened, but truth is stranger than fiction.

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  12. Holy hell this is a great blog. This is my first time on it. It is nice to see another woman tell it like it is!

    picklesinmyass.blogspot.com

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  13. Awesome guest post!

    Hey Mrs. Hyde! When ya get a sec could ya stop by? I got something for ya!

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  14. great post,god i'm glad i'm not young and single!!!

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Bitch with me, will you?