I’m a lovely lady inching ever so close to 30. I am also recently separated after nearly 4 years of marriage–2 of which were a futile endeavor at trying to procreate. Yes, I’m also one of the fertility-challenged women that you hear so much about don’t hear nearly enough about. I call myself sub-fertile because it has actually never been proven that I can’t get pregnant, just that I haven’t. At least not a pregnancy that went to full-term.

And of those nearly 4 years of marriage, I spent the last one suffering from a case of the bedroom blues. I could blame infertility, but that would only be about 3/4 of the story. The rest has to do with mismanaged expectations, bitter seeds of resentment, a lack of imagination, and plain old laziness.

My vagina has not been my own. It has been poked and prodded more often than the prize cow at dairy farm. And not just by my ex-husband! No, I’m talking doctors, nurses, med students, radiologists, surgeons, and probably that creepy guy sweeping the floors at the hospital. Once your legs have been in the stirrups as often as mine have, you learn to block out the unpleasant parts. In light of these unfortunate circumstances, both marital and medical, I have decided it’s time to reclaim my vagina. And thus a slut was born.

Now, I know what your traditional definition of the word “slut” is…a woman with questionable morals who fornicates with every Tom, Dick, and Harry (pun intended) that so much as glances in her direction. And truthfully, my new definition isn’t really too far off. The basic idea behind reclaiming the word slut has to do with my desire to explore my sexual needs and desires outside of what are outdated perceptions of women and their sexuality, but even more specifically what happens when those two things meet in a bar, on OK Cupid, or in a coffee shop.

You should know that I always take proper safety precautions when engaging myself in these situations. Meeting in public places, birth control, STI prevention, pepper spray, and most importantly someone always knows exactly where I am and who I am with. I’m not a stupid girl and I am most certainly not a stupid slut.

So there you have it! I’m re-claiming both my vagina and my sexuality (and everything they each encompass) for my own. Basically I plan to kiss a lot of boys and then tell you all about my (misadventures). 2013 is my year of growth. I plan to put myself in situations that would have previously made me uncomfortable and I’m going to learn to execute these situations with grace and aplomb. I’m sure you will read all about those adventures on this here corner of the internet, as well. Who knows, maybe we will all learn a thing or two.

You can call me Sexy Sadie.


5 thoughts on “About

  1. Pingback: Because I Really Like Kissing Boys | The Sub-Fertile Slut

  2. I love this introduction and the direction you’ve decided to take with your life and your blog. Personally I 100% believe that a “slutty” period is a necessity in any woman’s life. I absolutely went through one after my first true relationship crashed and burned, and although I may wonder “what was I thinking?” when I look back on certain things, i definitely have no regrets.

    Also, after a miscommunication with my dad many years ago, where I thought he’d called me a nasty name and he actually hadn’t, we sat down and talked it out. He played college football and he told me, “Back in college some of the other guys would rag on a girl and call her name, and I’d always say, ‘I think she’s just got a lot of love to give.” That has always stuck with me as a unique way to looking at things (and my dad was a hippie, too, so “free love” was not far from his mind). Not “love” in the traditional sense of the word, perhaps, but love of oneself, love of one’s body, love of sex. It’s all good and it’s all copacetic if that’s what you decide. So, go on with your slutty self!! πŸ˜‰

    • Yes!! That is so me!! I have soooo much love to give and I give it away is so many different ways. It just so happens that this is the way I am choosing to write about. Sometimes I think that my biggest downfall is the size of my heart. I heard a song this weekend and one of the lyrics is, “The shape of love is the only shape that fits in my heart.” It really resonated with me. I think me and my slutty self would really like your Dad πŸ™‚

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