On Being the Slut, the Other Woman, or the Fling-Thing


You probably already know that historically, I was a very unattractive girl. I was the type who goes for straight-A’s, with hair always in a low ponytail, lots of pimples, and just a plain classmate whom you would normally “friendzone” as a guy. Other than that, I was born with a very low self-esteem and no sense of self-worth. I always seek for approval which I don’t usually get – because as I have stated earlier, I wasn’t pretty. I was a sucker for compliments deep inside, because I wanted to treat this deep wound that I had since childhood. I often retreated to a world of my own and wrote in journals. I felt like no one understood me but me. Yes shy and introverted girls, I am one of you. And no matter what I do, I just can’t invade all the bars in the world just to improve my social status. Crowds full of phony extroverts disgust me.

And it came to that point where I became very desperate. As soon as I started college, I improved my looks, changed the way I dress, and grew my hair long. I pestered Google just to know what the secrets of beauty, attractiveness, and charisma are. I reflected on what my flaws were and tried really hard to change myself for the better. I just had that intense desire to be admired so much for everything, especially for my beauty. Ever since I was little I already had that dream; but I kind of ignored it because I thought I just had to wait for adulthood for me to have big boobs and ass. But right now, I’m already an adult. Everything was up to me, for I had no fairy godmother. But the fruits of my labor already showed up a few months later. I was prettier and I had more admirers. I finally had men who crush on me when they see me personally. It was already a big achievement for me because I only had my boyfriends earlier in life due to texting. Those weren’t serious relationships that I had, but back then I didn’t care about the fact that not getting taken seriously in love is already a big disappointment. There must be something wrong with me, I thought.

For almost two years in college, I had a bit too much of flings and relationships with random men who just got attracted after seeing me or hearing me sing (yes, it’s the insecure me who’s boldly talking). Some of them were even heartthrobs and I had an instant self-esteem boost because of that. Some of them were fucking handsome, and some probably had only charm, but they all had desirable traits in them that would have made me give up my womb to them if only I was a slut. It’d be too hard to describe my unique experiences with each one of them, but they shared this one deed in common – they all broke my heart. Yes, with this girl that almost all passersby would drool over (I’m exaggerating); they managed to break her heart and leave her without any explanations. At first they seem to be laying their hearts on my feet, but in the end they’ll just treat me like shit with lots of flies hovering over. I don’t even know what turns them off, I was just being me! But a few of them told me that some jealous girls told them bad things about me which aren’t even true. I had no friends, you know. Just jealous enemies. I’d sound like a terrible, terrible person if I addressed this as #PrettyProblems, but that was how I lived in the past two years. I loved male attention, but I couldn’t get a serious boyfriend because no one took me seriously. I had a slutty reputation.

I even did those things that I couldn’t believe I did. I had this huge crush on an older schoolmate and we hugged and kissed passionately on one acquaintance party. I didn’t know that he had a girlfriend! And I also kissed another older schoolmate of mine that I also had a crush on only to find out that he plans to court my classmate. Those jerks! And there’s a lot more escapades that resulted from the intense longing of my heart, but all I gained was a slutty reputation. I was fooled, you know. I had no intention of ruining relationships. In fact, I wanted so bad to have one of my own. These incidents affected my social life and my self-esteem. I wasn’t a true-blue bitch, so experiencing those was a very big blow to me. I realized that I am not being respected by men. I realized that I was always taken for granted. Or only wanted for my sexuality. And so, I tried to withdraw from all that chaos and improve myself some more. I needed to have a comeback. I am a goddess.

Now I have a boyfriend who terribly loves me. He is like a soldier in protecting me, as if people are always trying to grab me from him. Finally, this guy has a perfect image of me. His friends are the biggest “chickboys” of the town, and he brags about me everywhere he goes. What’s even flattering is that this guy had handsome competitors, but I just had to show everyone that the one who treats me with overpowering love and respect is the one who gets me. My male friends and acquaintances even shower me with praises, affection, and attention now when they used to just ignore me back then. I’ve risen from a doormat to a royalty. From these painful experiences, I’ve learned great lessons. If you wanted to be treated with respect, respect yourself first. I’ve learned that there is no middle ground between a doormat and a goddess, and it’s up to you whether you’ll choose one or the other. Sometimes we have to be painfully burned to be able to rise from the ashes, like a phoenix.

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