The Final Girl: The Time I Was The Character Of "The Slut" In A Horror Movie Scenario

When I'm not obsessed with sex, I am obsessed with horror movies and all things under the horror trope. I never jump at a jump scare, I delight in the idea of a zombie apocalypse and I am little obsessed with evil clowns.

Needless to say, I have the horror trope down. In most classic slasher stories there are usually five characters (The Cabin In The Woods depicted this well if you need more) and they always die in a similar vein, if not necessarily in the same order. The deaths are usually chalked out in characterisations such as "The Slut" who is a ditz and dies after having sex; "The Jock" who is usually a jerk and the one having sex with "The Slut"; "The Brain" who is the smart guy that figures out what is going on; and "The Doofus" who is the clown of the group. The last character is usually a girl and usually referred to as "The Virgin" because she is the smartest one not to have sex. This girl is usually referred to as "The Final Girl" in most tropes.

Seeing as how we are currently on my sex blog, you would probably agree by saying that stereotypically I would be the big breasted bimbo who just had sex and will be targeted by the killer but I will run upstairs instead of out the door into the waiting arms of a knife.

Honestly, I probably would end up surviving a horror movie, but I can see how I would fit the trope.

Well, I did fit the trope, and because I am so aware of this classic horror depiction my mind jumped straight into slasher mode when this very occurrence happened in real life.

I needed sex, as I always do, so I had called around a friend that I had slept with before. We watched a movie, drank red wine, and then proceeded to start making out when the movie ended. We went to the bedroom and did the deed before we hung out talking and lying on the bed.

I was telling my friend that I had a ghost in my house. I had felt a presence in the hallway since I had moved in to the home and regularly woke up feeling like it was standing over me, or actually lying in bed with me. He was telling me he didn’t believe me.

It had been a dreary, windy night – you know, one of those perfect nights for a horror movie. As we were lying on the bed with him telling me he didn’t believe in ghosts, the lights suddenly went out and plunged us into pitch darkness. It had been a strange time for the light to go out, because even though a storm was brewing it hadn’t really hit yet. We got candles and lit the place up and started joking about how eerie the whole thing was, and likened it to the horror movie trope.

“Shit,” I told him, “The ones that have sex in the horror movies are the ones that die first,” We’d totally just fucked and had been talking about ghosts – no way could it be a coincidence!

I then proceeded to pull a croquet mallet out of my basket and stalk around the house wearing nothing but a baseball shirt and thin panties. It was quite the classic horror movie sight (only with a croquet mallet instead of a baseball bat) and he followed me laughing at how absurd it was that we were living a horror movie.

I threw open the front door and gazed out into the darkness. “This is when the door shuts on you and we get separated,” he told me in his drawl. Mockingly scared, I closed the front door again and that was when the lights suddenly came back on in the house.

Whatever terrifying serial killer had decided to stalk us had run away with its tail between its legs once it saw me with a croquet mallet! We went back to the bedroom where the American then decided to inform me he now believed in ghosts (in an attempt to appease whatever was stalking us) and we went back to having sex.

There’s not much of a moral to this story here – it’s honestly just one I like to tell due to how closely it followed the horror movie trope. I guess you could say that if a horror movie type situation ever happens to you be aware that the one who has sex first will be the one to die first, and unless you’re a virgin reading my sex blog, this is likely going to be you.

Maybe we should learn to enjoy it then? After all, death comes for us all – I don’t think there is a better way to die!

Photo by Teevx