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Why I Don’t “Bang” Bigots

Why I Don’t “Bang” Bigots

We all have them. The ex who posts The Onion articles as fact. The ones who say incredibly arrogant or many times ignorant things on social networks. The ones we see in bars bothering innocent women.

We all know that being in a relationship with someone means you like them or even love them. But, what about sex? What about these seemingly meaningless hookups that just seem to happen? Do we need to like who we share a bed with?

While I never tell a person who they can or should sleep with, after a particular “hook-up,” I had to make a personal decision: I don’t have sex with bad people.

This may seem like a weird concept, but let me explain.

I don’t always associate sex and feelings, don’t get me wrong. Sex does not always mean love for me, nor do I think it should, but I have consciously chosen not to have sex with people who I don’t feel deserve it.

That means, if you’re sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, size-ist, able-ist, mean to animals or just plain awful to human beings in general, you don’t get to dip between the sheets/lay on the wall/roll around the back seat of my Hyundai with me. Plain and simple.

This may seem ridiculous or you may be saying, “Hey, who would want to have sex with you anyway?” “Who are you to judge a good or bad person?” Trust me, I’ve heard it before.

See, I have no problem with meaningless sex. I have no problem with knowing absolutely nothing about the person you’re about to fornicate with. But, what I do have problems with is having some sweet, sweet loving with someone whose soul looks like the inside of a third grader’s backpack. I hate knowing full well that the person I’m sharing a bed with has no respect for human life.

Maybe we do need to be a little more guarded with our loins. Not saying sex should ever be used as a motivator, but if we all stopped doing the nasty with people who genuinely made us ashamed, they may just get the idea.

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Not to mention not having to see my ex-hook-up’s comments about “speaking ‘Merican” on my twitter wouldn’t hurt either.

Photo by bigbirdz

 

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Kristin

Kristin is terrible at bios. Born in a log cabin in 1776...or actually a suburb outside Pittsburgh in 1993 and a product of a big Jersey family, she's been a loud, spunky lady since birth (much to the dismay of anyone she can get to listen). Kristin can currently be found in Cleveland Ohio, working as marketing extraordinaire and moonlighting as a Broadway fangirl and wannabe love guru. From an obsession with Rob Lowe, pugs, hedgehogs and chai tea, she can always find something to talk to you about.
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View Comments (2)
  • Agree. Everyone needs to be A LOT more guarded with their loins. Hope this catches on, give me a glimmer of hope for society.

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