I pass by you midday on Sundays while you're smoking alone against the wall of the bar. A few weekends ago, I smiled and said hello, and you responded by calling me a slut. I'm not mad. You didn't hurt me. Because guess what? I am a slut. And I'll make no apologies for it. I'm a female in my early 30s, recently single after a long-term partnership, and I'm now having the best sex of my life with whomever I want, whenever I want. It's my body and I'm going to play with it. While you're sitting alone harassing people on the street, I'm upstairs sitting on the face of a beautiful man who's going to cook me a great brunch afterward, and then we'll fuck some more. Life is super short, and you and I will both be dead soon, so I'd rather spend the little time I have feeling good and making OTHER people feel good. I didn't even waste my time confronting you, because I wanted to get back into bed for another round.
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