Hi Friends on Facebook and Friends in Life,

Today’s Perfect Lunchtime Read comes from none other than Shannon who made us LOL when she told us about her first encounter with a thug. Now that she’s done living da thug life she’s back on the scene and she has a few concerns regarding the scantly clad, table hopping, romp shaking ladies that check their self-respect at the door.

Dear Club Sluts,

 This plea comes after re-integrating myself into ‘club-land’. As the streets begin to thaw, and my roommate has decided that I am no longer allowed to stay inside and cook meals that include way too much butter and not enough time at the gym, I finally broke down a few weeks ago and ventured out to club-land for the first time in ages.  After trading my beaten in jeans for a tight black mini (the combat boots stayed on cause heels in the middle of February was not happening) and some fake eyelashes, I made the commitment to party. Walking from my place down to King Street my first impression was how amazing of a transformation a city can undergo between the four city blocks that separate my condo and the club. The further south I walked the more the clothes seemed to go from functional to figments of my imagination…since when does a bandeau double as a mini skirt?  However if this were the end of my shock syndrome I probably wouldn’t be writing this…the true moment came while inside the club. I don’t know if the clock had even struck midnight, but Cinderella’s shoes were off and her bare feet were dancing on the backrest of a banquette while her vagina said hello to anyone who happened to glance her way!

As the night wore on it became clear that this is just the way one conducts oneself in club-land…I suppose the last time I really spent time at clubs I did some scandalous shit too but never to the extreme that I’ve recently seen and I was also 17 and didn’t know any better.  These are grown women who clearly have some daddy issues.  Which brings me to the real point of this post. I really couldn’t care less how other people act…I’m not here to judge; my problem comes because these chicks fuck it up for the rest of us.  Don’t get me wrong, just because I wear underwear it doesn’t mean I’m not DTF, but not while wasted having just met some guy at the bar. Unfortunately the Club Sluts have set the benchmark so low that any of us with a shred of self-respect and some good parenting get the shaft (and no…not the shaft I want).  So I’m asking you ladies, let’s try raising the bar, even if ever so slightly. Just because you’re wasted and he looks decent doesn’t mean that you and your girlfriends need to haul ass back to his place for some sex you won’t remember and if you do you might find that your time could have been better spent sleeping.  Instead let’s try actually exchanging some information; if he’s a really good time he’ll make the effort to show you without the mind altering help of thirteen tequila shots. 

Without judgement,

Shannon

Click HERE to read a previous entry from Shannon. and write us your thoughts on ‘Dear Club Sluts’ to justdistracted@gmail.com or twitter.com/justdistracted

JUST Distracted