Cuddle-Sluts: A focus on proclivity

Chances are, if you are a fairly attractive, well spoken, flirtatious socialite such as myself, you've found yourself in the most fortunate situation of sharing a period of rest with the fairer sex of your choice. I call it rest because as most of us know, sharing your bed with someone you hardly know most often does not result in very much "sleep" so much as extended attempts at power napping between sessions of heavy petting and flavor tasting of numerous varieties. Yet... in my vast experience in this matter, there is a certain characteristic among the hook-up populations that I have found to be personally agitating and oddly enticing at the same time. Cuddle-sluts are not a myth nor are they a species to be taken lightly. They are not as rare as you may think, walking among us reeking havoc in the night and steeling blankets in the morning. This can no-longer go without notice, this affront to sexuality will not stand!

If you're a little confused at this juncture I will take the time to fill you in on just what it is I'm blathering about. The cuddle-slut is the creature of seduction, most often a female in my experience, who with all modes of flattery and sexual acuity, lands herself in your arms at the end of the night only to shun away your carefully crafted techniques and physical antics designed to seal the deal. Oh yes readers, you know who you are. The cuddle-slut is among the most contemptible yet enchanting of the slut varieties and their antics must be brought to the knowledge of my brethren. Do not, I repeat, do not underestimate the nature of the cuddle-slut. She is smart and patient and she will take from you anything she wants if she pleases, starting with your favorite pillow.

An example you ask? OK. Say for instance I'm huddled around a table playing any of the most enjoyable college drinking games with a flock of eligible female prospectives. Naturally, you, the cuddle-slut disguised as a sexually charged sorority slut, takes my fancy. I throw a neg or two your way, you clearly think I'm cute and you enjoy the banter as we share a bag of Cheetos, which you manage to rub all over my face with your orange fingers. In attempts to clean ourselves off a water fight ensues and we're having fun... and pretty soon we're making out hard-core in the girls bathroom. Kinky right? Well at this juncture one would assume this one's in the bag, since you've agreed to let me drive you back to my place and since it's probably 5 or 2 degrees outside you're sure as shit not walking home from there.

We get to my bed, your pretty much naked, I'm pretty much naked, St. Germain has set the mood and it's time to make the final move when... you decide to blurt out the phrase "I'm a good girl" which is universal for "you're not getting any tonight." You role over, shove your butt in my lap and say "lets spoon." SPOON? Are you kidding me? And there you have it, my night is doomed to a merciless struggle to break the bonds of another cuddle-slut.

Now Nation, you must know that I'm not just out for the sex. I myself can enjoy the sexless night on many occasions, because even I admit that I'd much rather wake up next to an attractive female rather than a pool of my own spittle. But surely you see my point. The cuddle-slut is a deviant that you must be wary of. There are two kinds of course, and they are easily recognizable. The first, the true cuddle-slut, is a person whose perception of their own surroundings is severely skewed. They dress to kill, drink like a fish, flirt like hell, and they make-out with anything that walks. Chances are they're damaged goods, don't waste your time with these, unless you enjoy tucking your hard-on into your waist-band every night to avoid poking her in the back and seeming like a creep. The second type, the enticing one, is the confident cuddle slut. This is a girl who knows what she is, knows what she's doing, but has no idea what she wants. She masks this with a mode of confidence, which makes her worth while, yet still an irritating cuddle-slut. You may easily recognize this character type upon hearing the phrase "I get what I want" immediately after or just prior to your inevitable coitus rejectus.

Alas, the BloomNation is of course a nation of science and I have researched this phenomenon enough to bring this discussion full circle and bring the balance of the cuddle-slut conundrum back into perspective. You see, we are guided by our hormones and they dictate just about every behavior we have. Oxytocin is a hormone found in both males and females and is known to drive the urge to cuddle. However, post coitus males are notoriously less inclined to cuddle with their now slightly sticky partners because, alas, testosterone is the primary inhibiter of Oxytocin and is highest in males just after splash-down. So perhaps the cuddle-slut is more intuitive then we think. She is likely a hormonal mess with far too much Oxytocin in her system yet in this state, she is keen to the fact that giving into her partners urges is a sure way to not get what she wants... did you see, she's getting what she wants. Shit, so what's my point? Is the cuddle-slut a species to be respected for her sexual acuity or simply the delusional sycophantic terror I've made her out to be? I am not sure. I will be continuing my research on this phenomenon with hopes of new discoveries.

Always and often,

Bloom