GOING THROUGH THE DIARY OF A "YOUNG SLUT"

In this post, I talk about a diary I came across that was written by a woman in her early 20s, about 10 years ago.

I once picked up a young woman in her early 20s who jokingly called herself a “vagabond.” She openly shared that she spends her summers traveling from one place to another, proudly claiming that she never has to pay for a hotel.

Instead, she always finds a guy to stay with. She would tell her parents that she was staying with “friends,” which didn’t seem to raise any red flags for them.

She’d live with these guys for a few days or even up to a week or two, but if the guy didn’t meet her expectations or came off as creepy, she’d move on and find someone new to stay with.

It was a classic case of monkey-branching, where she’d move from one person to the next, like a parasite finding a new host.

This young woman's luggage was surprisingly compact. She only had a backpack and a duffel bag with clothes. Her skimpy summer clothes didn’t take up much room, and if she needed to deal with wrinkles, she’d just use her host's iron.

She clearly understood that too much luggage would slow her down and preferred the convenience of traveling lightly.

While staying with me, it became apparent that she didn’t have much to hide. She spent an unusual amount of time in the bathroom, taking long showers, doing her hair, and applying makeup.

One day, while she was occupied with her routine, I noticed a notebook in her duffel bag. Out of curiosity, I decided to flip through it when the chance presented itself.

When she disappeared into the bathroom again for her usual hour-long grooming session, I seized the opportunity to check out her notebook.

What I found was a quite insightful look into the naive worldview of a young slut.

Her diary was as raw as it could get. She recorded her encounters with guys, primarily those she stayed with.

It seemed more like a collection of her most memorable experiences rather than a full account of all her flings, as she’d need to write a lot more if that were the case.

She also shared her literary ambitions with me.

She studied English Literature in a non-English-speaking country and, beyond this diary, the most concrete result of her studies was some poorly written poetry on a blog that she proudly showed me.

Probably, she thought she would release her diary as a book sometime, and back then there were a few such books written by women that had a modicum of success. But I wasn't convinced how captivating a book solely focused on the message that a young, attractive slut can get a lot of dicks would be.

A recurring theme in her entries was how things seemed to "just happen" to her. She "just happened" to find herself sucking off some guy in a bathroom stall, or "just happened" to end up doing cocaine with two guys in a hotel room, followed by getting fucked by both of them.

She also recounted stories about the men she temporarily lived with. It was hard to suppress a laugh when she described going on trips with her female friends, often saying things like, “We arrived in city X together, but I didn’t see them again until the flight home.” She wrote as though she had no control over her actions, almost like she was just drifting from one situation to the next.

Of course, this was far from the truth.

The most naive part of her diary was her unrealistic expectations of the men who showed a moderate level of interest in her.

One story featured a Frenchman, and in this entry, she wrote in a more poetic tone. She hinted at the hookup, beginning with her "cigarette after," as she stood by an open window in an apartment in Paris.

Somehow, she "just ended up" in this guy's place, as if by pure chance. It just so happened, bigot!

The evening sun was shining on her, and as she smoked, she fantasized about living with this guy in his tiny studio, imagining them buying groceries together at a local market and cooking side by side.

She thought it would be "romantic" to tell the others she had a French boyfriend, especially one in Paris. Of course, she left out the fact that outside of a few picturesque spots, Paris isn’t as glamorous as she'd like to believe, but that reality would have spoiled her fantasy.

Regarding this potential French boyfriend, she wrote a follow-up entry that revealed her disappointment when the guy sent her packing after she'd finished her cigarette.

This slut lamented this by referring to her occasional challenge of finding out who the good guys are.

There was a gap in the story after that, but it’s likely that she either found another guy to stay with or ended up in a hotel. I couldn’t help but wonder if paying for a hotel felt like a personal failure to her, as it didn’t fit into her usual pattern of finding a guy to stay with.

I could easily imagine her bragging to her friends about how many nights she managed to avoid hotel bills by staying with different men.

This woman, being a very politically correct Scandinavian, appeared to give men of various ethnicities a chance, though it seemed she excluded fellow Scandinavians.

There were some rather interesting and concerning entries in her diary related to different men she'd encountered. One story (which I skimmed through) involved a Turk who lied to her, claiming he was from South America (lol).

After spending time with her, he treated her poorly, eventually kicking her out in the middle of the night, which understandably frustrated her.

One of the more amusing stories was about her first encounter with a black man. She had titled the entry, “Tonight I Shall Have Sex With a Black Man.”

In it, she openly wondered whether the stereotype about black men’s size was true and if the saying “once you go black, you never go back” had any merit.

That night, she went out specifically looking for a black man to satisfy her curiosity. She described the encounter in detail, mentioning how the man towered over her and, at one point, spoke of himself in the third person.

This part was so amusing that I had to pull up YouTube videos as a cover story for my laughter since I didn’t want her to realize I was reading her diary.

During the encounter, the man began taking pictures with his phone while they were together, which made her uncomfortable. However, she was unable to get him to stop and had to endure the situation until it was over.

Despite her discomfort, the diary entry suggested that she felt compelled to see the encounter through.

This guy, "Mr. Muh Dick," as she referred to him, kept banging her while throwing out memorable lines like, “white girl can’t handle black dick!” and “you’ll be coming back wanting more black dick!” (I’ve adjusted these lines slightly to better reflect his manner of speaking).

She seemed to have a hard time processing this experience, as her left-leaning upbringing hadn’t prepared her for such raw encounters.

The man claimed to be a “manager from London,” though he was vague about what he actually did for work. He even offered to take her to London and get her a job as his secretary.

In her diary, she mocked this suggestion but also wrote that while she wouldn't "never" be with another black man, she needed to be more cautious around them after this bad experience.

Other parts of her diary were less dramatic. Sometimes she stayed with seemingly stable guys, slept at their places, and then hooked up with other men behind their backs.

One entry described a guy who generously let her stay over without expecting anything in return.

She mocked him for not making any moves and wrote that she felt like she should have slept with him out of obligation.

Since he didn’t act, she “took care of her needs” elsewhere, having sex with seven different men over four days. This included a DJ banging her in a storage room after his set and two different guys she met while staying at a hostel (same hostel with both guys).

She ended that entry by saying she was sure none of her friends had slept with as many men on that trip as she had.

As surprising as it might seem to guys as cynical as us, true love seemed to always slip away from this young woman.

As her diary progressed, the number of meaningless sexual encounters increased, but there were still hints that she hoped something would work out. She would have been happy to settle for any guy with his own place, a car, and decent looks.

She also fantasized about flying to visit her boyfriend abroad, apparently back then global warming was not that much of a concern for young ditzes.

This woman clearly struggled to grasp reality. The idea that very few men would be interested in a long-distance relationship with someone who jumped from guy to guy seemed to escape her.

On the flip side, almost every guy she encountered saw her for what she was, used her for a brief fling, and then moved on.

Or more accurately, they moved her on. You could say she was like an "altruist," sacrificing her own happiness so that more men could enjoy themselves with her, boosting their own joy.

But in the process, she was ruining her ability to form deep connections or bond with someone long-term.

Sadly, she didn’t seem to realize this, as she was stuck in a cycle of short-term flings without any real emotional depth.

-MOS