I Am a Semi-Demisexual
Demisexuality doesn’t quite fit — but neither does anything else
My guy friends used to call me a slut.
Not always maliciously, I suppose. But they’d sometimes make jokes about it, or mention it casually.
To them, I fit the bill.
I wasn’t shy about my love of sex. My mind and my mouth were dirty and it only got worse after a few cheap beers.
None of them could keep up with me, so all they could do was put me down.
But I wasn’t all talk. I hooked up with guys on the same day I met them. I did all the stuff my girlfriends weren’t ready to try (or not ready to admit they tried). I didn’t have a third date rule because I didn’t usually have a third date.
In other words, I was having the kind of sex these guys wished they had. And they looked down on me for it.
A friend of mine even got in a fight with her boyfriend because he told her I was a slut for going back and forth between two guys (not at the same time — I wasn’t having that much fun yet).
I was a metalhead, a TV junkie, and a stoner.
