Trouncing the trollop treatment

The definition of what makes you promiscuous seems to be distinctly different depending on where you travel in the glory hole that is the Keystone State. If you're a south-central Pennsylvania inhabitant, being on the prowl at Wal-Mart with a muffin top and a box of condoms lazily tossed into your diaper bag (sans baby daddy, of course) stand as strong indicators that - most likely - you're a bit of a hoe-bag. Traveling a little bit northward into the heartland of Central Pennsylvania will see a similar story being told - minus the baby and the diaper bag, and plus an eye-rolling "oh, you really think I'm cute?" ditsy attitude proudly boasted through a weekend bar crawl in the faux-urban depths of Harrisburg.

But Philly - well, anyone who lives in Philadelphia can tell you one thing about Philadelphian standards when it comes to sex: there aren't any.

At the very least, what level of sexual engagement is acceptable in our fair city varies between its different sections and numerous, wildly contrasting social groups. And while the latter is true almost anywhere you may find yourself, it's found to be especially true in the case of a city whose basic social identity is best defined as not having one at all.

Is it the "City of Brotherly Love"? Or, perhaps, the "City of Brotherly Sluts"? Who can tell.

I had a passing conversation with an Italian man from Long Island recently, who claimed to be looking for apartments in South Philly and attempting to take in the scene of the city in the process. Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to understand the social breakdown of Philadelphia, but commented that he hopes Philadelphians prove to be less "slutty" than New Yorkers.

The poor, clueless bastard.

The word choice of "slutty," which immediately takes me back to my grade school gossip days of pointing to the bimbo in the back of the classroom who would intentionally leave her training bra at home, is what caught me off-guard. Why is it that, like our preceding high school years of whispering about the town whore, we still use sex-negative terms like "slut" to define the guy or gal that partakes in a fun and friendly one-nighter?

Granted, this guy struck me as immediately strange to begin with, particularly following his mid-conversation, out-of-left-field comments about wanting to "transfer his masculine energy" to his partner during sex. (Right, because a gay "bottom" must be in dire need of his partner's macho-man "energy" - OK.) Nevertheless, I'm baffled that even a New Yorker would treat the sexually active with a finger wag and a "tsk tsk."

Once upon a time, I would have told you how much I resented Philadelphia's hypersexual and notoriously non-committal batch of singles, but today I write as a Philadelphian who has seen the light. Living in Philadelphia and having a sex life doesn't make you a "slut" - it makes you human. Pretending sexual desires don't exist and ignoring impulses for the sake of avoiding being called "the S word"? That makes you naive.

Now, I'm not advocating hopping on the first guy that buys you a drink (there are diseases to be concerned about, after all), but I am declaring that sexual positivity is nothing to be ashamed of, and certainly is not something to be described with those dirty words our parents would formerly wash away with soap. (Perhaps our parents had the right idea for the wrong reasons?)

Modern studiers of sex and relationships consider "the hook-up" to be the new "first date," only turning into something deeper after the sexual test has been passed. In that case, Mr. Italian Man may find himself alone with his hand for longer than his libido desires, as the brotherly lovers of this fair city are loud, proud and ready to pounce.