The value of being a year-round slut

Saturday night, my gentleman friend and I attended a wild Halloween party that included two live bands, fire dancers, tightrope walkers, and vouchers for unlimited adult beverages.

Because we're losers highly sophisticated introverts, we sat on a couch in the corner all evening and watched people.

"Do you notice a theme with a lot of the female costumes here?" he asked about an hour into the party.

"You mean the fact that everything has a slutty twist?" I replied. "Slutty vampire, slutty cat, slutty Wonder Woman, slutty witch, slutty giraffe–"

"Where's the slutty giraffe?"

I pointed out the group with the African Safari theme, and we both sat quietly for a moment and pondered the idea of a slutty giraffe.

"Is it more politically correct to say sexy instead of slutty?" I asked.

"When did you start caring what's politically correct?"

"Good point," I agreed. "For the record, I don't see slutty as a derogatory term. In the right context, I see it as synonymous with sexually empowered."

"Duly noted."

A moderately slutty ninja, and Dexter the serial killer.

We studied the crowd some more, more acutely aware of the number of women who'd seized the chance to appear in public wearing their bras. To be fair, I spied several men wearing bras as well.

"I think it's sad," I said.

My gentleman friend shot me a startled look. "How is it sad?"

"Women should be proud to be slutty all year-round," I said. "Not just Halloween."

"I think I saw that on a Hallmark card."

"It's true," I said. "I write romantic comedy, so it's not like I set out to deliver some big moral message with my writing. But if there's one soapbox issue I feel passionate about, it's that women shouldn't be afraid to be open about sex. To be able to approach it with enthusiasm and pride and a whole lot of humor."

Awhile back, someone asked me if there's any subject or theme I'd never write about in one of my books. Though I never like to say never, I don't believe I could write a romance novel with a sexually naive heroine who magically discovers her inner slut under the careful tutelage of the wise and experienced hero.

It's a theme I've read many times in romance, and I always have trouble wrapping my brain around it. I don't deny there are plenty of women – and men, too, for that matter – who are raised to feel shameful or embarrassed about their sexuality.

I can't relate.

In the little utopia that exists in the back of my romance author brain, there's a world where people of all ages and genders are comfortable with their bodies and all the magical things they can do. A world where everyone can embrace their inner slut 365 days a year.

Admittedly, that's not as inspiring as Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech, but I'll take it.

How do you plan to celebrate your slutty self this holiday season? Please share! And please let me know if you find that phrase on a Hallmark card. I'd like to buy a case full.