What is your slut number?

Does it matter how many people you’ve slept with? Dorothy Black doesn’t think so…

bird counting poster

Hi everyone, my name is Dorothy and I’m a slut.

If you read my column regularly, you’ll easily draw the conclusion that I’ve slept with more than one person in my lifetime.

And you’ll be right.

I’ve slept with more people than you can count on your one hand. Or two. Including both feet’s toes. In the numbers game of what makes a woman a slut, I’ve passed ‘Go’ a whole lotta times.

While this says nothing about whether I’m a good or kind person – or whether I’m actually GGG* (quality trumps quantity I always say) – it still seems to mean something in some archaic sub-level of the collective psyche.

I’d have liked to blame the South African milieu for this very narrow label, but when pop singer and wife to France’s first lady, Carla Bruni, ‘came out’ saying she’d slept with 30 people, the press went ballistic.

It might not matter how many people you’ve slept with, just as long it’s not a lot (read: two).

In this here 21st century, women are still required by greater society to be sexually modest. It might not matter how many people you’ve slept with, just as long it’s not a lot (read: two).

Say what you will about feminism and the fight for equality being over, if any relationship finds itself asking the ‘how many’ question, it’s almost guaranteed that whatever number the fairer sex gives it will elicit a weighty pause at best.

Even if only to give Mr Man time enough to consider how he measures up against the other cocks.

You see, it’s more than just a numbers game. Double digits imply that a woman might actually enjoy sex enough to want to fuck for fun. Like the stereotypical man.

And sexually empowered or overt women are threatening. Not least of all to other women. So best we denigrate them by declaring them dirty, unhinged and emotionally desperate.

That’s not to say that some people – men and women – don’t have pathological tendencies when it comes to fucking rabidly. But there are those that shop, eat, exercise and work rabidly also.

And yet those aren’t matters for morality debates.

Boys generally need to learn that mindless and indiscriminate rutting eventually becomes boring…

While knowing someone’s ‘slut number’ might not be any indication of what sort of lover you’re dealing with, I’d generally bank on the person that’s slept with more as opposed to less.

Apart from the fact that experience goes a long way to great sex, boys generally need to learn that mindless and indiscriminate rutting eventually becomes boring and girls generally need to learn that they don’t have to commit emotionally and forever to the first pimply bag of hormones to touch them. And vice versa.

And that waiting until marriage thing?

Ne’er a more ignorant, naive decision could be made. Even if it is the name of Allah, God, Yaweh – whatever ­- faith won’t make up for the kind of loneliness and alienation that comes from sexual incompatibility and miscommunication with your life-time partner.

If we’re going to black and white the world, I’d rather be a happy slut than a miserable prude.

This column first appeared on Women24. Read the comments here [clickety click]

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plums.

the comments on this were staggering. i wasn’t around to follow up on what people were writing, which is just as well, but came back to a whole lotta mails and twitter directs asking me if my skin had been thick enough to take the kind of crud people were dishing up.

almost didn’t want to read the comments.

but then i did and it was just the usual blah blah, lonely whore blah blah will die of HIV/Aids blah blah and will never find a husband blah blah.

and i have some points i’d like to make in response to some dipshit comments:

the only part of that blah blah that pricks my ears is the whole issue of STDs and HIV/Aids.

if you’re a regular reader of my columns you’ll have noticed that i’ve written a column on STDs.

or rather, the conversations we’re not having about STDs and HIV/Aids. because that is a reality here; a whole country of HIV/Aids spread primarily through fucking, but we can’t even talk sex without finger-pointing.

my columns are little columns speaking to and about other city folk, generally single women.

what you may or may not have figured by now is that i write from this, the only reference point i know – middle-class city girl.

and i hang out with other city people.

we have enough money to go for regular gynae check-ups and get our cervixes inspected once a year (thanks for the concern commentator ‘Dr’) when we also go for a pap smear. we use contraception like the pill or IUDs AND condoms.

most of us are culturally enabled to say no. most of us have been allowed to learn that women are not second-class citizens.

i do not speak for the whole of mother-fucking south africa.

most of us are single and in our thirties. most of us are in and out of adult relationships in which we amuse ourselves by enjoying physical intimacy.

but it would seem that even in this ‘enlightened’ time, people would expect women to keep their legs together – at whatever age – and stay home, untouched, virginal, for that magical day Mr Right comes along to wed and bed our perfectly clean, untouched bodies.

because if we don’t, we’re sluts. whatever the circumstances.

i know i shouldn’t rant about the poopl that click click click and hate hate hate and give me a platform from which to air my little views, but sometimes i just need to comment back.

oao plums.