01.31.13

 Zero to Sex in 60 Seconds…

In re-reading my last post, I feel kind of embarrassed. I think I portrayed myself more like a slut with a vengeance rather than a seriously concerned vagina owner. And this fact scares me. My mind and my blog have no filter; I spew on here exactly what I think in my pretty little head. Which may be my first problem.

I don’t care about what people think of me. This is a fact. But I do want to get some shit out in the open and clear the air.

I am not a virgin. Okay, this one might be a little too obvious, but some people are just dumb as rocks. So, there you go. My written words to your eager eyes as proof of my promiscuity. Congrats.

Next, I have slept with a handful of men. I am kind of nervous about brushing up against this subject because it feels like I am trying to molest a cactus rather than something warm and fuzzy. Sex is a taboo topic that people, for some reason unknown to me, are so afraid to talk about. And I honestly have no idea as to why, I mean, it happens. Sex happens. People are having sex everywhere, right this very second. Not I, obviously, since I am finger fucking my keyboard, and that does not count. And in regards to sex being a non-approachable discussion, more specifically so, is the number of people you have actually had sexual interactions with. My number, if you must know, as of this exact moment in time, is 25. I have slept with 25 men. To some people, this number is absolutely, inexcusably inappropriate for a woman. I would, in their eyes, be labeled a slut. However, since no fucks are given on my behalf about what other humans think of me, fuck them. I care more about what my yellow Labrador named Lucky thinks. And he loves me. Anyways, since I’m writing a post here, I will give you my personal opinion about what a slut is. And it ain’t me. My number has nothing to do with the slut scale factor.

Slut- (as taken from urban dictionary) Someone who provides a very needed service for the community and sleeps with everyone, even the guy that has no shot at getting laid and everyone knows it. She will give him a sympathy fuck either because someone asked her to or she just has to fuck everyone she knows. These are great people, and without them sex crimes would definitely increase. Thank you slut, where ever you are.

 My definition goes something like this: a person, male or female, who gives no fucks about where their genitals spend the night, so long as it isn’t in their own bed. And if it is in their bed, they aren’t alone. A slut does not feel an emotional attachment to anyone he or she bones, and neglects even common courtesy, forgetting names and faces altogether. This person does not care whether the person they sleep with already has a significant other, they only consider it a game to be won. Sex means nothing, and will forever mean nothing. Pity fucks be damned.

Now, I am going on the record, right here, just for you, to say that, I, Atomic Cupcake, have had, to at least some extent, some caringly warm and fuzzy feelings for every single person I have ever slept with. I have never had a one night stand. I have never forgotten a face, and certainly, never a name. I have actually fallen in love with several of them; CD, IC, JS, JJ, and DB being the major ones (full names will not be disclosed, just initials. You know why.). I have held some sort of labeled relationship with majority of them, whether serious boyfriend/girlfriend or friends with benefits. I am still really good friends with roughly all of them. And I have never been the one to break things off (except once, for abuse reasons). I have had my heart broken, ripped right out of my chest, thrown to the ground, and stepped on over and over again. The emotional blender and I have become well acquainted through the years. And I have cried, a lot. These things do not make me a slut. In fact, they make me the exact opposite. I am human, and I may come off as this bad ass chick with a give-no-fucks attitude, but at the end of the day, my instincts still kick in. I ache for comfort. I want to be wanted. I hate being lonely. Just like everyone else on this motherloving planet.

But just because I talk about sex… a lot, does not mean that I am this ginormous slutbot with daddy issues. My father and I have an excellent relationship, fuck you very much. I write my posts as a way of getting shit off my own chest, while also entertaining the hell out of you. It’s an undeniably awesome package deal. You’re welcome.

I beg of you though, do not think of me as this poor sap now that I have shared with you my inability to be emotionally invincible. I am still this super bitch with a mean streak. Maybe. But anyways, I just needed to say my piece. As usual.

Resolution #031: Do not let your words mislead your actions. It is true what they say, actions speak louder. If you say something, brag of something, complain of something, etc., you best have the actions to back your mouth up. Quit talking out of your ass to people who will never know what, exactly, it is that you mean until you show them.