I have modest collection of photos dedicated to stairwells. Modest in size as far as collections go – no seasoned stamp collector would be impressed by the magnitude of this particular photo collection. However, some might think it far less modest in size knowing why these photos were taken. First off, because I particularly like stairwells, especially the ones I’ve encountered in Portugal. Secondly, the photos serve as little keepsakes, reminders of enjoyed times, for all the stairwells in my little photo collection have led to a room, a studio, or an apartment where I shared a little bit of uninhibited passion with someone, or in other words, had sex.

Perhaps, knowing that, it would actually leave some impression on a seasoned stamp collector. Though, I doubt it be a positive one, considering the average age and conservativeness of people attracted to the idea of dedicating their free time to collecting stamps. But who can blame them really? They grew up in a different time, with different values. I’m as much unbothered as I am unsurprised by the opinions of the snail mail sending generation. What does surprise me though, are the fortunately rare occasions on which I am reminded that slut shaming is still alive and well within my own generation too.

A few weeks ago was one such occasion when a friend from Eindhoven came to visit Lisbon with his girlfriend. I met them for dinner at the rooftop terrace of Cinemateca Portuguesa. This friend and I have known each other for almost ten years, our friendship dates back to times of playing cards between classes when we were studying physics. His girlfriend, I hadn’t met yet, they only started dating some months before I moved to Lisbon. It was a fun dinner. It was good catching up with my friend again and I liked his girlfriend, she was cool and quick-witted. A good match. Laughs and conversation flowed freely, so much so that the waiter had to come back three times while we still hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu.

‘I had a date last night.’ I told them a little later, while I enjoyed my very nicely prepared squid. Honestly, calling it a date was a bit of an overstatement (or understatement, depending on your point of view), what actually happened was that I met a guy in his hotel room, a perfect stranger for an evening of fun. Unspoiled by ties, expectations and tedious small talk. Another photo added to the collection. Naturally, I left those details out, I only told them I had date and that it what fun.

‘Are you going to see him again?’

‘No, he’s tourist, going back to Paris tomorrow.’ I shook my head as a took a sip from my beer. ‘But it was fun though, so perhaps when I ever find myself in Paris, I’ll reach out to him.’

‘Cool.’ My friend replied.

‘Yes, that’s kind of the goal.’ I smiled contently. ‘It would be nice to have a little network of potential lovers spread out over Europe.’

‘I don’t know if I’d call that nice.’ The girlfriend chimed in. Both my friend and I looked at her, waiting for her to finish that thought. ‘I would call that slutty.’

‘Damn, okay…’ I exclaimed, shocked. My friend seemed pretty surprised as well. I laughed awkwardly and after uttering my surprise, we quickly changed the conversation to a less sensitive topic.

We still had a nice evening after that, but the comment hadn’t quite left me yet when I walked to the metro station later that night. As I sat in the metro, part of me was glad that I left out the details revealing the full depth of my actual sluttiness. But on the other hand, the more obstinate part of me wished I had rebelled, wished I had by means of my photo collection of stairwells rubbed my exciting and very fulfilling sex life in her face. Though, I doubt that would have made the remainder of the evening very pleasant. I guess it was for the best I didn’t do that.

My friends and I use the word slut all the time, but when I normally hear or say it, it is meant as a term of endearment. It is an encouragement to explore, to live, to enjoy, to give and to accept, and to learn from all that sexuality has to offer. As long as all parties involved are freely having fun, what reason has anyone to judge that? So, to whoever needs to hear this, myself included, I just want to say, be as slutty as you want to be!