I love my boyfriend but I miss being a slut

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As I work my way through the crowd, a mouth-watering smell hits my nose.

It’s a heady, musky scent that sends a jolt of excitement through my body – I’ve always been a sucker for a good cologne.

Turning my head, I lock eyes with the stranger responsible for this assault on my senses. 

We hold each other’s gaze just a few seconds too long – the unspoken code for ‘I fancy you’– and a smile spreads across my face. I know that my casual night out with the girls is about to take a deliciously dirty turn.

Sure enough, a few hours later, the man with the intoxicating perfume is in my bed.

I could tell this tale in a dozen different ways because this is what most of my Twenties looked like. The hopeless romantic in me wanted to fall madly in love but my vagina wasn’t about to turn down good dick while I searched for Mr Right.

So I’m not ashamed to say that I was unashamedly single and slutty.

However, lately, I’ve been taking stock of my sexual experiences. Perhaps it’s because I’m now in a monogamous relationship or maybe I’m just feeling sentimental as another year draws to a close, but part of me misses the slut I used to be.

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Before I get into this, let me settle something: this has nothing to do with my love for my other half. Our sex life is great and my boyfriend even more so. I don’t miss the men I used to shag, nor do I want to sleep with anyone else.

But casual sex was a big part of my identity for a long time and I have been struggling with trying to figure out how to combine these two sides of myself.

Ask any of my friends and they would tell you that I used to love a spontaneous shag.

I remember visiting a friend who was studying abroad and meeting a few of her classmates including Don*, a charismatic man with a glowing tan, blonde hair and a smile that could melt ice. 

I felt it immediately: that same tingle that hit me when I met the hot stranger with the good cologne on the dance floor. 

I’ve always enjoyed the anticipation of not knowing where a night will take you and there’s no high quite like the biological urge to get it on with someone who throws your hormones into a spin.

But what I’ve since come to realise is that this feeling is actually my body going into high alert due to excitement overload. In other words, it’s an adrenaline rush.

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And from the curious looks that Don was throwing my way, he felt it too.

So my pal wasn’t the least bit surprised when, later that night, she found out that I had been spotted half-naked down by the harbour with Don*.

‘That’s just Almara – they had a spark, so I figured something might happen,’ she responded.

And it’s far from the only ballsy romantic and sexual choice I’ve made over the years. 

I am oddly proud of the time I seduced the cute security guard outside my favourite nightclub, which was conveniently located about 60 seconds from my front door.

We didn’t have much in common and the fling burned out within a week, but damn, the man was built like a Greek god.

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I’m also glad I once hopped onto the back of my date’s motorcycle and took a spontaneous trip to the coast, where we ended up shagging in the ocean.

Yet, now that I am a fully fledged 30-something adult with a serious partner, I find myself facing a dilemma that many people struggle with. 

Am I a slut or a girlfriend?

Mulling it over for the past few weeks, I’ve come to a simple conclusion: I can be both.

I’ve accepted that the past isn’t my present, but it has shaped me. 

I wouldn’t be the lover or partner that I am now without the people who came before ‘The One’ and thankfully, my other half is very understanding and we talk openly about these things, which is a big part of why I am able to be myself with him.

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That being said, I take care not to talk about my former sexual partners just for the sake of it – and I recommend that you don’t, either.

There is no shame in discussing your previous sex life but don’t overdo it on the details (unless that’s a turn on for both of you, in which case, go for it).

Nor does the fact I’m now in a committed relationship mean that I, or any of us, have to give up part of our sexual selves just because we are dating someone. In fact, I’ve discovered new ways to embrace my slutty self within my relationship.

For instance, I might surprise my boyfriend by having sex in a new location in our house. 

The other week, after realising that most of my lingerie had been seen by other men, I decided to buy a brand new piece and seduce my partner by sauntering around the living room in it. He loved the gesture.

We also recently spent a night in a hotel together in the same city where we live on a random weekday.

As I tried on the fluffy bathrobe, he asked me if I wanted to join him in the shower. Once again I could sense the familiar tingle as my body geared up for another sexual adventure. 

It turns out that the slut is alive and well – and she’s a big fan of Mr Right.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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