Recently, I participated, in a willing, great hook-up. The week before I participated in a willing make-out session. I just moved to a new town. I don’t know anyone around here that well, and the unfortunate thing about that is that I don’t know who knows who — for instance how close hook-up A is to hook-up B. This is where my story really starts.

Let’s call the two guys I’ve hooked up with Boy A and Boy B. Boy A had a crush on me. Since I had only known him for about a week, I assumed it was casual. I was wrong. At some point during our short time together, he decided we were in a relationship. Now, we’re talking about a guy that I’ve probably seen four times in my life and who I never told I was interested in being in a relationship. This is where Boy B steps in.

I had met Boy B the week before and found him attractive. The next week I saw him at a party and we began talking about Lord of The Rings, Zombies and Star Wars. Clearly, I was interested. One thing led to another and we hooked up. The next day I texted Boy A and he responded by saying (and I quote): “I heard Boy B jack-hammered your crotch last night…yikes.”

Despite his triggering, offensive, misogynistic language, I responded. I told him that it was unfair of him to assume that there was something solid between us. I told him not to deny my sexuality and not to hold me to double standards. What he said back was this: “Stop bothering me you dumb whore.” I decided to just say nothing, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his texts had gotten to me. But I was so upset and angry. I felt disgusting, like a pile of trash, and I know that’s what he wanted me to feel like.

I have my theories why I felt this way. It has been a little over a year since I was pinned down and raped in my own bed. The “Jack-hammered your crotch” comment just sounded so violent, so rapey, that every time I think about it I am disgusted. My stomach literally clenches and I feel sick. The term whore made me feel low, like maybe I’m wrong for liking sex as much as men, maybe I am worthless, maybe I should be used for sex, maybe that’s all I’m good for. For the first time, I understood how much it hurts to be called a whore or a slut or a skank – whatever the term may be – or to have you sexuality questioned. Even after attending Slut Walks, being an active feminist, knowing about rape culture and understanding the effects of slut-shaming, I lost myself in the idea that maybe being a slut was a bad thing, that maybe I had been wrong all along. My entire belief structure had come into question because of one jerk.

Then I remembered the day I lost my virginity. The day I had sex for the first time, it was not to a guy who was my boyfriend. Some of you may call that slutty, but I knew that I wanted to have sex. At that moment, there was nothing more that I wanted, and when it happened, I regretted nothing. But I also remember thinking that no one would understand, that if I told, I’d be called a whore and a liar. And there was that word again: whore. The word that people use to control our sexuality, to dismiss us from sexual pleasure, to dismiss our claims of sexual assault, to dismiss our humanity.

We live in a country where tens of thousands of sexual assault cases are reported every year. And who really knows how many go unreported. I think this all goes back to the word “whore,” to the idea that women do not have sex for ourselves but for male attention, because we have low self esteem, because we have daddy issues, because we want to be popular, or because we’re just plain crazy.

It starts in our first health class. We learn that boys masturbate more than girls (or is it just that boys talk about it more because it is considered more socially acceptable for them to pleasure themselves?) In our high school health classes, we are told that the only way to be safe is to remain abstinent, that if we wait until marriage, sex will be so much better. We are taught about blow jobs, but the blessing that is cunnilingus is never mentioned. We learn about male ejaculation, not about female. Every day we are shown how cool Robert Downey Jr. is for remaining a swinger throughout his career, and on the same channel told that Miley Cyrus looks like a slut in her video.

As a gender we have been dismissed. Slut is not our word. It is the word of our oppressors. It is a word they use because the idea of female sexuality does not fit their conservative view points. But I’m going to fight that now. I’m going to say:

Dear Guy A, I love sex. I choose to love sex. I choose to have sex with whomever I want. I am great in bed and I am proud of that. I look amazing naked and yeah that makes me feel really confident and sexy. Sex is my choice. So if liking sex, and liking frequent sex, and liking experimenting with new partners makes me a slut in your mind, then so be it. I am a huge slut. And there is nothing wrong with that.

what have you been texting lately?

In our world of technology and instant communication, sentiments often get lost in cyberspace. In fact, there’s a whole website devoted to some of the crazy mishaps that can occur during texting. But when texting is successful, I can confidently say that one of its most common (and more recent) uses is as a means of hooking up and conducting relationships.

Some of my friends use text messaging in order to conduct their booty calls in college. If you meet someone at a party and exchange numbers, a text conversation is sure to ensue in the hopes of ultimately having a sexual encounter. One of my friends told me that if she is planning on meeting up with someone that she has been casually texting, she will continue to text until she enters the dorm room or meeting location and they physically connect. This notion of texting as foreplay is one that is worth our time and consideration—perfect for the busy college student.

In the world of the text message, there are a series of unspoken rules that we follow. These obviously differ a bit by location and within social circles, but basic guidelines remain constant. Proper texting protocol can be quite confusing as far as who initiates the conversation, use of emoticons, how long to wait in between texts and the overall tone of the message. In the case of texting as it relates to hooking up, however, all of this texting is ultimately foreplay — simply a song and dance leading to sex.

Although texting is often considered the best way to set up a hook-up, it presents some difficulties. In texts you can be all of the things you want to be in public when attempting to get your game on: a blend of humor which is direct yet still erotic. Texting results in just the right level of invasiveness that allows you to come off as simultaneously interested yet detached. Painfully shy people, who may not have been able to express private sentiments about a person they like, now have a means of expressing their inner kinky selves.

However, there are pitfalls. The limited space of a text can just as easily be sexy and flirty as it can be confusing and hurtful. There are no voice intonations or sarcasm options in texts and sometimes, a winky face simply won’t suffice. Being rejected or rejecting someone via text is much easier to do than via a real conversation. Sexting and other forms of texting can also be the source of lots of drama in relationships. Where then is the line drawn between socially texting a potential partner and engaging in destructive behavior?

Texting isn’t just for hook ups, though, even in a romantic context. Couples also use texts as a way to keep the spark alive during the day and to let their partner know that they are thinking about them. During class and across campus, I constantly see people holding their phones with smirks or wide grins across their faces – it’s easy to guess what kind of text they might be reading.

There are obviously a lot of pro’s and con’s to texting as it relates to the way our generation conducts our romantic relationships. What do you think? How has texting played a role in your hook-ups/relationships/romantic encounters of all sorts?