For the past couple of weeks i’ve had a lot of trouble coming up with a topic to blog about. I’d be lying if I said it was uncommon for me to experience “writers block”, but normally I can throw something witty together if I try hard enough. However, after the virility of my last blog I have been at loss for words. In all honesty I have always written in a sarcastic tone; I rarely held back because I was well aware of WHO my audience was. I don’t even know who my audience is anymore, and that is a little scary.

Its been three weeks now and I told myself I wouldn’t do a follow up blog addressing the Letter To A One Night Stand. I really didn’t want to stir up anymore controversy, but after countless, relentless respondants that I have tried my hardest to ignore– I feel as though I may as well give a response, just one.

To those of you who fail to understand and relate to my personal issues, that’s okay. I don’t need your shoulder to cry on. In fact, I haven’t shed a tear (although some of you seem to think I have spent most of my life pouting.) I didn’t cry when I read your hateful messages, nor will I. Did my heart sink when I read the first few? ABSOLUTELY, I am not made of stone. Did blood rush to my face when I noticed the “sub-tweets” of a former friend of mine? Of course, you’d think I washed my face with food coloring. People hate what they do not understand. Unless you have been through a similar situation, or have provided support for someone else who has, I don’t expect you to understand.

However, I find it fascinating that even after the publicity internet bullying has gotten over the past couple of years; particularly with the suicide rate, that there are adults telling me I should kill myself and that I am a worthless human being.

“Anonymous” people unaware that their e-mail address was visible (and reveals their identity) wrote nasty comments. A girl I met once at a party wrote me probably one of the nastiest/most hurtful comments, assuming I would never know it were her. I thought she was pretty pleasant when we met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, apparently she thought otherwise. Did I contemplate confronting her? Yes, more than once. I have always had a hard time accepting the notion that not everybody will always like me, but people hate what they do not understand.

I did however burst into hysterics when I received some of the most beautiful messages and e-mails from complete strangers. I couldn’t be more grateful to the people who shared their beautiful stories and kind words with me. Likewise I appreciate those who contacted me questioning the meaning behind my letter, without judgement.

Perhaps I’ll share the backstory:

Although the letter was written to no one in particular, it was obviously inspired by real events. Originally it was not written in letter format, it was formed from two different diary entries. The first was written after an encounter (or lack there of) at a party with “Mr.Last Weekend”. The second piece was written after a lunch conversation with a few of my guy friends where we discussed what a girl’s “number” says about her. So, if it seems like there are two messages in the letter, thats because there was.

I read both pieces to my friends Maddie and Amanda, who were both able to relate to what I had said. Maddie asked me to send her what I wrote so she could share it with her friends back home. Once I realized that other people might appreciate what I had written, I played around with the idea of making it public. I wanted to combine the two pieces but wasn’t exactly sure how, so I decided to compose a letter.

Everything I wrote was straight out of a diary entry, I wrote it when my emotions were raw. I published it after I had overcome the original anger I felt; after coming to terms with the fact that “Mr. Last Weekend” might stumble upon it.

The “Message”:

There was no intentional message in the letter I wrote. Although it has been said that I was trying to fight the idea of “slut shaming”, I just wrote from the heart. I didn’t intend on going viral, in fact I have never been so surprised in my entire life. I wrote it for the same reason I always write, for the therapeutic process. I posted it not for attention, but because I KNOW (and now I am more aware than ever), that I am not the only person who has experienced slut shaming and sometimes seeing your feelings put into words helps you overcome them.

As far as the hundreds of people who hate what I have to say, you’re either reading it wrong or you shouldn’t be reading it at all. According to Reddit, the message of my blog was that I was offended that my hookup didn’t want to be my perfect boyfriend immediately following. That’s horse shit. Read it again and you’ll realize that human decency and politeness was the requested behavior. “Unless strangers accidentally make eye-contact they do not speak to one another. That is fine, because at least that relationship is honest. Why does the reaction one would have to a complete stranger so closely resemble that of two people who have seen each other completely naked?” I have said before that I believe this is the most important line in the letter.

I understand now that my sense of humor isn’t necessarily universal, as there are people out there who legitimately think I condone human trafficking. Nor is my voice clear, as there are others who believe the message of my blog was “girls should be able to sleep with a new guy every night without consequence”; I am well aware of the consequences to unhealthy behavior. However, if you actually read my letter you would have taken note to the fact that at no point I listed a “number”. If you think I’m a “whore” for having a one-night stand, so be it. I guarantee you have at least one person in your life who has participated in one as well; someone you like, respect, and would never call a “whore”.

Love,

Mackenzie