Birth of a slut

I was a nice girl, once. Sweet, innocent, naïve…

Yep, that got me pregnant. So a few years and two divorces later, here I am. No longer innocent, far less sweet, but still a bit naïve. As I embark upon the second of these glamorous dissolutions of marriage, I find myself without someone to share all my important thoughts with. That, I could deal with. It’s the other 23.75 hours of completely random shit that enters my head I can’t handle. Someone has to hear it, before I implode upon myself and am left just a quaking mass of trivia answers and “Friends” references.

I don’t care who listens. I’m not picky in any way. As my relationship record will show, I have few, if any, standards. Just show me a little attention, and I’ll be thought sluttin’ it up all over the place. I’m not ashamed, and you shouldn’t be either. We’re all people, we all have needs.

Let’s do this.


2 thoughts on “Birth of a slut

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