fbpx

Why You Shouldn’t Let Your Promiscuous Past Define Your Romantic Nature

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on whatsapp
Share on email

When I was a teenager (which I choose to extend until the day before my 20th birthday, thank you very much), I went through this really awkward, confusing phase of my life. I know, I know – everyone goes through embarrassing phases when they’re a teenager, so let me clarify a little bit more.

I didn’t know who the hell I was. I came out around 15-16 years old (depending on who we’re talking about coming out to), but a rough breakup with the first girl I was ever really serious about had me questioning everything. I found out that she cheated on me with almost everyone I introduced her to – which was a giant blow to my ego, of course.

She had cheated on me with some of the most disgusting people I could picture: A scummy cousin of mine who once stole an obscene amount of jewelry from my family. My alcoholic brother who was technically still married at the time. And some loser ex of mine who couldn’t stay clean.

Truthfully, she wasn’t even my first love – my heart sort of already belonged to someone else (who was equally terrible – what can I say, I have bad taste in women sometimes). But she was the first woman I had made an effort to be loyal to. I gave her pretty much everything, and she didn’t care. If I was smarter, I would have realized it before she paraded herself naked in front of everyone I knew.

Supposedly, there was even a line forming outside of the room she was staying in, but I was too busy working to buy her stuff to know for sure. Officially, she admitted to sleeping with four people while we were together. She still maintains that she didn’t hook up with my brother until the day after I broke up with her, but all things considered, I don’t think it really matters.

I was a wreck. So, I did what any hardly-self-respecting 18-year-old woman would do, and retaliated. (Naturally.) I hooked up with the most disgusting people I could think of. The only problem was that my retaliation didn’t do anything to get back at the girl who did me wrong – all it did was destroy the last little bit of my ego that was left.

This actually took me a longer time to get over than the breakup itself did. I’m not saying that anyone who is promiscuous is unworthy of good self-confidence, as the above-mentioned exes is definitely one of the most confident people I’ve ever met in my life. But for me, promiscuity was not a good color on me. I spiraled into a deep depression, which caused me to undervalue myself even more. Here I had this line of people telling me that – yeah, they’d have sex with me, as long as that’s all it was.

And, for a while, I let them.

I’m not proud of it. That’s definitely not who I am anymore. Really, it wasn’t who I was at the time, either – but I pushed myself to be that person because I thought it was a good idea at the time. Most of these people I had literally zero desire to be with, in any fashion – but I felt like their attention meant that I was worth something.

Inside, I felt lower than ever. I thought the answer was to sleep around more. (Note: That’s very rarely the answer to your problems… Unless your problem is that you’re not having sex with a wide enough variety of people. In that situation, yes, promiscuity is exactly what you need.)

It took me a long time to get over this low feeling – even after I had stopped sleeping around. I felt a constant need to prove myself to my partners (and to myself) that I wasn’t really that person. Half the women I was trying to rationalize things to were not exactly capable of monogamy themselves. Whereas I had forced the idea on myself, they lived and breathed openness. (Hey – it works well for some people. I’m just not one of those people.)

Even still, I occasionally find myself rationalizing things Young Stupid Me did almost ten years ago. (Even though I know that was never who I really was.) I still regret a lot of the choices I made at that time, but realistically… Regrets do nothing.


You can’t alter history – you can only move forward and try to make it right.

Full disclosure, this quote is paraphrased from the motto of an ex-girlfriend of mine. (No, not the one I mentioned in this article.) But even though I have nothing to do with her anymore, this particular mantra has rung true for me ever since the first time I heard it.

Regrets accomplish nothing except make you feel nostalgic about the time before you screwed things up.

But our past mistakes help shape us into the person we are now. If I hadn’t gone through my promiscuous phase, would I be such a romantic now? (And for that matter, would I be as good in bed?)


Mistakes help us grow as individuals.

Some people might think it’s lucky to go through life and never experience a drastic phase that has the potential to define your whole life. I think that’s a load of garbage. After all, those who never make mistakes never really learn anything – they’re just really good at getting things right the first time.

Okay, I guess technically that still counts as luck. But they’re not lucky that they’ve never made a mistake. Perfection is a curse, and maybe it’s harder for your sense of self to change when you’re older. I don’t know; I’m not really older yet.

But I do know that I have never made a mistake that didn’t teach me something. With as many mistakes as I’ve made over the years, I swear I’m a genius by now.


It doesn’t matter who you were – only who you are now.

Most people like to make a really big deal out of their pasts. But if you break things down far enough, most people aren’t completely the same as they were in the past, and usually that’s a good thing.

When I was a kid, for example, I was this nerdy tomboy who couldn’t make friends with most girls if my life depended on it. Sure, I had a few female friends – but I don’t think any of them really saw me as a girl. I was always the Ken to their Barbies. I was always the Daddy when we played house. And I was OK with that.

(Although apparently one friend’s mom had a problem with me teaching her kids about the birds and the bees – especially since I was giving them wrong information, according to her. I still stand by my childhood assumption that sex was just when you kissed each other with no clothes on – the only difference is that, now, instead of kissing the girl’s cheek… Well, I’m sure you can figure the rest of that one out on your own.)

In high school, I had become someone different. Where once I had been a spelling bee champion with a perfect attendance award, now I was a smoker and a drinker who barely showed up for class. I’d rather make money than make good grades, so I worked and partied and generally acted like an irresponsible jerk.

As an adult, I went through other phases, too. There was the Young Stupid Me who was addicted to methamphetamine. There was the Young Stupid Me who was on unemployment for a year and a half. There was even the Young Stupid Me who thought I might be bisexual. (I wasn’t.) And then, there’s the current me – the one riddled with anxiety, who has a fulfilling career doing things I love – and who happens to be hopelessly devoted to a woman who’s a million times better than anyone I’ve ever been with.

Does my new identity invalidate every previous identity I had? No – at the time, I was each of these people, separately. But I’m not any of them anymore. (And I must say, I can even deal with anxiety quite a bit better than I ever dealt with my depression – I’m pretty fond of this new me, after all.)


Your reputation shouldn’t overshadow your identity – period.

When people think they know enough about your life to dictate who you are, they’re very rarely right. The truth is, even those closest to us can only see what we allow them to see, whether subconsciously or intentionally. There will always be gaps in their definition of you – and generally, that’s a good thing.

Just like I’m not a ten-year-old gifted-and-talented kid anymore, nor am I a reckless party animal anymore, I’m also not as forthcoming with my sexuality anymore, and that’s OK.

(Unless you ask my girlfriend – I’m pretty sure she wishes I put out a little more.)

I’ve never been the type of person to stay in one place, physically or emotionally, and I like it that way. There’s something refreshing about starting over fresh – especially when you’ve started to develop a reputation. Sometimes, a new start really is all it takes.


Things are supposed to change over time.

I’m now back to living in the same city I started high school in – and even the city isn’t the same. After all, it’s been over ten years now – things change. Just like I did.

Sometimes, these changes aren’t as abrupt as mine were. Maybe they’re a little subtler, such as my town putting in an extra few stop lights and shutting down the movie theater. Maybe they’re something irrelevant – like how I used to listen just to country music, and then pop-punk, and then hip-hop and R&B. Maybe these changes are good – such as my late-onset responsibility and ambition. Maybe they’re bad, like the fact that I’ve gained a lot of weight since I “grew up”, or the fact that I’m living with my parents again after being grown and independent for so long.

Or maybe, change is just change.

It can be so easy to hold our mistakes against ourselves, even when they’re no longer useful. But if you’ve learned a lesson and move forward – why should your past define you?

A bad person who used to be a good person is still a bad person.

A lesbian who used to identify as bisexual is still a lesbian.

A person working as a doctor who used to work as a waiter is still a doctor.

Why, then, should your past dictate anything about your life now? Your life is yours to define, not someone else’s, and as long as what you’re doing isn’t harming anyone else (without due cause), who cares?


Knowing your past is a privilege – not a right.

Unless your past actually directly affects someone else’s life, it’s really none of their business. We choose to share intimate details about ourselves with the people we’re closest to, but we might sometimes forget that we really don’t have to tell them anything.

(Exception: If you have children, STDs, or a significant other – whether that relationship is open or not – your partner really deserves to know before it gets to the point where it’s relevant.)

When we are candid with people, and then these people we’ve trusted do something to betray that trust – such as judging us for someone we used to be in the past – they’re not showing us that we’re not worthy of their time. They’re showing us that they are not worthy of our trust.

Remember that, as long as you are making the best choices for you, and no one else gets hurt in the process, no one can tell you you’re wrong. Don’t let some irrelevant jerk tell you otherwise – be the glorious, romantic queen if you’d like, or the promiscuous mynx, if that’s what works for you. Just be you, and if someone can’t see how awesome you are already, you don’t need them in your life.

Trust me – the people worth keeping around are the ones who don’t care about your past. If they weren’t there, it’s none of their business.


[interaction id=”568a4dbc3a731d3e71b88659″]

Latest NEWS

Also see

If only the world was as “open-minded” as us… Alas, matters of sexual identity and equal love, often cause so much friction in the rest of the world. Here, find an open dialogue on the issues facing our LGBT community.

Sign up for our newsletter.

Get the best of what’s queer, right to your inbox.

hey
beautiful,

come here often?

drop us a line

or try to find it on our website