Teen Slut Blog

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Teen Slut Blog
Lots of sex is a learning experience
Having a boyfriend is mad overrated
F*ck anyone you want, but use protection
Gigi is Thrillist's Sex and Dating staff writer. For Gigi, being a slut is a way of life. Follow her lovable crazy on Twitter , Facebook , and Instagram @GigiEngle.
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I kicked off my college career as any young co-ed newly freed from parental supervision does: by drinking far too much alcohol multiple times a week, partying with other young-adult amateurs, and having copious amounts of S-E-X.
Going to school in the middle of New York City meant that outside my dorm of horny weirdos I had the whole of Manhattan as my campus. There were no frats, cliques, or bonding bullshit -- but there were many, many clubs. I befriended a lot of club promoters, friends of club promoters, and a bouncer named Chaz who wore pastel polo shirts and could bench press an Audi. And I got laid. A lot.
Looking back, it's hard to remember any night where I wasn't in someone else's bed or didn't have someone in my bed. The good old days. It's a wonder I managed to keep up pretty excellent grades. Here are all the lessons I learned through my countless sexcapades.


College is full of interesting people from all over the world. F*cking all those interesting people will lead to many a lesson learned. Some of those lessons won't be so great. There's nothing like having sex with a Colombian man named Jorge, whilst standing in a moldy communal shower, that will make you wish for home -- the molding shower was the shitty part. Jorge, you were great. Hey, that's college.
Did I f*ck people I shouldn't have? Definitely. I had sex with a bunch of assholes and even one guy who had a girlfriend back home. Do I regret it? No way! Each sexual experience you have is a part of who you are. Every one of those dickwads I banged taught me something about the world.
Not to mention, you're there for four years and then you'll never have to see these people EVER again.


From the time we're little girls, we're told to be ashamed of sex and of our bodies. Honestly, who has time for that? You're finally away from mom and dad. You're free!
Get out there and explore your sexuality. People might be rude to you. This is because people are terrible. Are you really going to let some 20-year-old asshole dictate how you feel about yourself? No way.
People tried to be mean to me about getting the D. They were just jealous because they were uptight and insecure. Not my problem.
Sexuality is an amazing thing and you should enjoy yourself. This is college. It's about making mistakes, meeting people, and supposedly going to class to learn things, I guess.


Having a college sweetheart is cute and everything, but I think it is SO overrated. When you get out of college, there will be so many boys and so much TIME to be settled down. Do that later. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts and there's no pressure to get married.
College isn't the time for finding a husband, it's the time for finding yourself. So much growth happens in those formative four years. Don't limit yourself.


Getting that booty is all fun and games until someone gets genital herpes. In college, so many of us think we're invincible. This is not the case.
Condoms are not optional, my friend. I know they are a pain in the ass and I know they make your hooha dry up faster than a charcoal face mask, but YA GOTTA. Nearly half of the 20 million diagnosed sexually transmitted diseases are in young adults ages 15-24, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Listen to me: YOU DO NOT WANT TO GET HERPES OR HIV.
There is nothing wrong with being a slut as long as you're safe about it. Go forth, use condoms, and get after it.


In the first month of college, I started hooking up with this really hot, but painfully dumb guy.
I didn't care because regular dick was something I wasn't going to pass up -- not that I wasn't already getting plenty elsewhere, but still. The problem was, every time we'd have sex, I would get a yeast infection. It took me about a month to put everything together. My body was rejecting this dude. It was saying: NO TO THIS! I DO NOT WANT THIS.
Sometimes your body knows something is jacked up before your brain does. If a guy you're banging is giving you yeast infections, UTIs, etc., say goodbye.


Low-key, slutting it up in college is easy AF. Never again will you be surrounded by so many available, cute, and horny guys in one place. Take advantage of that. Go out and sow your wild oats.
For the rest of your adult life, you're going to be using dating apps and eHarmony and it could potentially get depressing. Take advantage of this dorm-life thing you have going on here. It's epic.
College is a time for learning about your sexuality. You're young and alive and as free as you ever will be. I look back on those wild nights (and days) and I smile because I know I lived life to the very fullest.
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Way back in the 90s, I was a professional teenage babysitter. I remember that I couldn’t wait until I turned 13 so that I could start making my own money.
In retrospect, 13 seems pretty young to babysit a whole gang of children. I vividly remember babysitting a child as young as two when I was a 13-year-old that couldn’t drive. While I’m sure that the toddler’s parents got a steal of a deal since I only charged $4 an hour, I don’t think I would ever put my kids in the care of a 13-year-old today.
But alas, my 13-year-old self babysat all the time. I loved babysitting. I couldn’t get enough of it. It was the only time that I felt like a grownup with a house to myself, without parents or siblings breathing down my neck. I remember I would beg to babysit with my friends because it felt like a special night out. If parents let me and my best friend Jennifer babysat together, we would only charge one hourly rate of $4, meaning that we both made $2 an hour just to hang out together. It was so worth it.
Teen babysitters mean well, but they’re still pretty naïve. Here are some of the most RIDIC things I did as a teenage babysitter that make me cringe today:
1. Ate Everything I Could Find In The Cabinets.
When parents said, “Help yourself,” they meant it, right?
Macaroni and cheese and microwave dinners exclusively.
I am ashamed to admit that I did this, but I was CURIOUS. Can you blame me?
4. Watched Bad TV Shows In Front Of The Kids.
After watching an episode of Friends , one four-year-old girl said to me, “What is a bitch?” FAIL.
5. Counted The Hours Until The Kids Went To Bed.
The joy of my babysitting experience happened when the kids went to bed, and I was allowed to watch TV all by myself and control the remote.
I did fuck with thermostats a lot because I was never allowed to use the thermostat at my own house. Sweet, sweet freedom.
This is a complex story that is hard to explain, so don’t judge me, all right? The short version is that I was babysitting two hellions over the summer because they couldn’t be trusted to be left alone. I thought they were out riding bikes all day, and I was relieved. Turns out they were locked in a closet crying all day long, and I couldn’t hear them because I was watching TV so loud. Bad babysitter.
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I walked into my son’s school a few weeks ago to pick him up. He was sitting with all his friends waiting for me by the door and immediately got up when he saw me coming. Clearly, he didn’t want me coming anywhere near his friends. I got the feeling he didn’t want anyone to know he was with me. I was right.
As he got closer, he whispered, “Mom, why do you have to dress like that? Everyone stares at you.”
“No they don’t. They are probably staring at you because you are so handsome,” I told him.
“I blend in. They aren’t staring at me. They are looking at you. Why do you have to wear dresses and high heels?” For the record, I was wearing the outfit below. The nerve, right?
I decided I wanted to try something with my teenage son that day. I asked him if he wanted to dress me for a little while. I told him he could pick out my outfits and I would wear whatever he wanted me to wear as long as he had an open mind and would listen to a few things I had to say about people and the way they choose to dress, so that’s what we did.
I wanted to talk to him more about the subject and why he was feeling the way he was. And by having him choose my clothes for a while I would better understand why he wanted me to wear certain things, and maybe he would understand why I like to dress the way I do and that, really, it shouldn’t affect him as much as it does.
This was his choice for the first day. He picked out a very casual, sporty outfit, and I loved it.
While I dress like this about half the time and like this look, it doesn’t always suit me. Sometimes I feel like dressing up more, so I do. When I asked my son why he picked this out, he said because I “blended in and didn’t look out of place.” In his mind, when I dress up, I look like I don’t belong. If he only knew how many women I saw throughout the day wearing suits and heels maybe he would have a different opinion.
Regardless, I told him nobody should be judged based on how they dress — not even your very embarrassing mother . Most people wear what they are comfortable in, what makes them feel good. It doesn’t matter where it came from because this isn’t how we judge others. We focus on how they make us feel, if they are kind, how they treat people. I told him judging people for what they wear is very transparent, and he will be missing out on a lot in life if he is going to focus on making friends because of what they wear, what they have, or what they look like.
If he is comfortable dressing in a way that makes him feel like he blends in, I think that is great. However, I want him to have the inner confidence to step out of the box if he wants. If he feels like wearing something, even though none of his peers are, I want him to feel like he can.
I also let him know what someone puts on their body isn’t an invitation, for him or anyone else, ever. And he should always take heed on how he looks at people, especially women. There is a way to look at a woman without staring or gawking. No matter how you see her, she deserves respect. I don’t care what she’s wearing.
I also want my son to realize just because I am a mother it doesn’t mean I have to dress a certain way. I loved the outfits he picked for me, and dress like that on my own accord often. But I also love wearing dresses, heels, skinny jeans, and trying out new trends because that is who I am, and who I was long before I became his mother. It’s not my intention to embarrass him. It is my intention to be myself, and him making comments or telling me he doesn’t want to go anywhere with me because of the way I dress is hurtful (as normal as it is).
A few days ago, I discussed these “lessons” I was trying to teach him with a friend and she told me he would “take all these lessons and bake them into a gentleman pie.” I really hope she is right.

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In September 2000 my daughter was nearly 13 and had just started secondary school. She had always got on well with other children and worked hard. But after a couple of months things began to change. She started wearing lots of make-up. The school was a stone's throw away, but friends began calling for her as early as 7.30am. Next my older daughter spotted her hanging about in the local park with some lads from school who introduced the girls they befriended to older boys and men. I was very alarmed. Then she started missing certain lessons, sometimes whole days.
When she started disappearing overnight, I trawled the streets looking for her. I had no control over her. Sometimes she would say she was going to have an early night, then she'd turn on the shower and climb out the bathroom window. Once when she disappeared, I went through the park looking for her and asked a teenage boy if he'd seen her. I was horrified when he said, "Yes, all the prostitutes hang out by the bowling green."
I confronted my daughter. "That's not true," she said. "Those boys are my boyfriends."
As far as she was concerned, she was doing what she wanted to do and I was hindering her. Money didn't seem to be changing hands, but the girls were getting drink and drugs and mobile phones. The men flattered them into believing they loved them as part of a process of grooming them to have sex with lots of different men, some in their 30s and 40s. People ask me why I use the word "grooming" rather than referring to them as paedophiles, but most of these men haven't been convicted.
I felt as if my daughter was sliding away from me and I'd never be able to get her back. Every minute of every day became a nightmare. I couldn't eat, sleep or function properly, and I could see no way back. Every time she disappeared, I thought I'd never see her alive again. If a girl is over 13, she has to be the complainant in a case of sexual assault. Because this was happening outside the house, there was nothing I could do. The worst thing, as a mother, was not being able to prevent my daughter from being abused.
At the end of 2001, a year after her first disappearance, I put her into care. She didn't want to go, but I could no longer cope. My lowest point was the first time I visited her. Seeing her and having to walk away was unbearable. Everything exploded while she was in care, and I had a breakdown.
My nephew killed himself unexpectedly during this time. My daughter and I attended the funeral, and were both extremely upset. Afterwards, I took my daughter firmly by the shoulders and said to her, "You'll never know how many times I thought I'd be going to your funeral."
Then I walked away. She seemed to turn some sort of corner that day, and so did I. She started to realise what she was doing to herself and I could see for the first time that she needed me. I think I had to feel as low as it was possible to feel before I found the strength to fight what was happening to her and other girls.
I started campaigning with Ann Cryer, the MP for Keighley, for a change in the law to make hearsay evidence admissible in grooming cases, a change we secured last year. I'm proud of what I achieved and my daughter is proud of me, too.
After two years in care, she came back to live with me, went back to college, got qualifications. At times she feels down about what happened to her, which she now recognises as abuse. Last year Channel 4 made a programme about the grooming issue in this area and, although some white men were involved, the BNP hijacked it as a race issue: Asians exploiting white girls. I was furious because this is not a race issue.
The men live locally and we see them from time to time. They call my daughter names, and me, too, if I'm with her. I say to them, "I'm not frightened of any of you." My daughter calls out, "I've moved on with my life and it's a shame you can't move on with yours." Our relationship is better than it has ever been. We talk to each other and if she goes out with friends, she leaves a note on the fridge telling me where she's gone and when she'll be back. It's fantastic to get those notes.
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