The DTs #1


Definition: a woman who engages in *promiscuous sexual intercourse, usually for money.


Q. What happens when you’re lonely and drunk and have a history of making bad decisions when you’re lonely and drunk?

A. I make poor choices, of course.

The Story:

I definitely made some shitty choices that night. I was lonely and lost and really hurting that ‘Little Beastie’ was avoiding me. At the end of the night, I was also stranded at a bar in another across the city with no car. (Not that I was sober enough to drive, even if I’d had a car.)

Physically, he’s attractive enough. A little weasel-ly looking, but I tend to fancy that look anyway.

I liked his friend more.

I needed a ride home. I wanted *some* kind of physical affection to make for what I thought I wasn’t able to get.

I dubbed them the Gruesome Threesome later. They were all wired, bragging of crazy things. I even saw some shit that, quite frankly, scared the hell out of me. I quickly snatched the opportunity to fuck up more, “fell off the wagon” as it were…

       -Side thought: I wonder what the actual street value for that actually is?

Honestly, I expected to be blown off later. It happens all the time. I didn’t think he’d be that nasty about it, however.


Definition: characterized by or involving indiscriminate mingling or association, especially with a number of partners on a **CASUAL** basis.

(Emphasis mine)

I’ve actually, by that definition, RARELY been promiscuous. Although I’ve had (what according to my social/peer group think is) a large number of sexual partners, I can say I’ve gone into most of those situations thinking (hoping) for more than just a casual fling.

I will admit to the fact that I’ve had sex and sexual relationships out of pure desperation for physical contact and affection.  I can’t say that I’ve ever really had a “normal” association with sex, sexuality and romance. I really don’t know why. I could make lots of guesses and excuses, but I truly don’t know. Anyway, I think it’s more accurate to say I’m easy. I’m not actually a slut or a whore or a tramp.

Now I am quite guilty of nasty behavior and calling other people by those names. I fully admit that I have an abusive personality and am (still) a bully. And yes, I could try to rationalize my behavior by saying that it comes from my own personal pain and from misunderstandings and misconceptions, but the bottom line is I do actually know better and yet I still do it. I know that I prejudge people without knowing their story.

To be called a psycho and a whore by someone *WHO AT THE TIME* I considered a good friend is absolutely heartbreaking. And this is after the guy is nasty to me and AFTER I get in a fight with him, partially on her behalf. (The other reason I fought with him is I truly was just pissed off on how he acted.) She calls me a whore, says I acted like a whore and that’s the only reason he treated me the way he did. Now that she’s dating him, of course. And she is continuing to call me names, 8 fucking months later when I wasn’t even part of her conversation.








No, seriously?


I don’t think I deserve that. At least not from someone I had believed was my friend. Someone I truly do not recall ever doing anything to, to deserve that. Maybe I did something to offend her and she just didn’t tell me so I never got the chance to apologize?

Side Story:

When I was 18, I (sigh) made some poor choices and ended up in a bad situation where I was date raped/sexually assaulted. The circumstances of the incident were such that I could never have prosecuted, even had I thought to. Basically he scared me and hurt me and then told me I’d “make a good ho”. Yes, I was traumatized by this and no I’ve never really had any *effective* therapy for it. It’s something that happens to thousands of women all over the world. Nothing special about it. But if you call me a whore or a ho, out of ANYTHING, LITERALLY ANYTHING else you can call me, it’s a trigger. I guess it’s considered PTSD.

As to actually being a whore? Well I guess, technically, I was. I think it’s a bit of a stretch, but whatever.  What did I get? Not actual money, that’s for sure.  I snorted a tiny, and I mean TEENY amount of cocaine, and got a ride home.

Too bad it wasn’t even all that enjoyable, especially because he wanted to do what *the other guy did*, and being drunk and high, I agreed. It hurt so, so bad. So that triggered me too, actually. 

I got nothing else out of this but pain. Emotional and physical pain. Things I have been going through for 8 months, nearly a FUCKING YEAR LATER.  It’s thrown me into a fairly deep depression and I’ve even been cutting again.

On the next DTs:

Maybe I do deserve it. Maybe I’m such a shitty person I deserve to be treated like this.

All defintions are taken from

(DTs stands for two things in this blog. Deep Thoughts and Delirium Tremens)

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