Tons of women would love to have sex with me. I hate the image of black men as promiscuous and unable to control themselves sexually. I don't like that image.
I consider promiscuity immoral. Not because sex is evil, but because sex is too good and too important.
Promiscuity in men may cheapen love but sharpen thought. Promiscuity in women is illness, a leakage of identity.
Vanity, revenge, loneliness, boredom, all apply: lust is one of the least of the reasons for promiscuity.
Promiscuity is like never reading past the first page. Monogamy is like reading the same book over and over.
To the world you may be just one person but to one person you may be the world
The road to finding 'the one' is paved with a bit of promiscuity.
Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed, Confine some under cover, And when love goes, bid him God-speed. And find another lover.
I think I had a more European outlook about the body and sex. The body is in no way dirty, and sex is something beautiful to give to and share with a lover. It has nothing to do with promiscuity, because I only believe in being in love with one man at a time.
Promiscuity turns sex into a sport, like arm-wrestling.
They filled us full of false illusions and promiscuity, and they led us down that class-less road of mediocrity.
It's very healthy for a young girl to be deterred from promiscuity by fear of contracting a painful, incurable disease, or cervical cancer, or sterility, or the likelihood of giving birth to a dead, blind or brain-damaged baby (even ten years later when she may be happily married).
Sentimentality is the emotional promiscuity of those who have no sentiment.
Loving everybody is polygamy. I care for no friend who loves his enemy equally well.
Promiscuity is the death of love.
A promiscuous person is a person who is getting more sex than you are.
The idea of blaming alcohol or drugs or quote-unquote "promiscuity" is a false path. The real issue is that men should not hurt women.
I burp like everyone else and I'm promiscuous.
Although I never publicly defended promiscuity, I never publicly attacked it. I attempted to avoid the subject, in part because I felt, and often still feel, unable to live up to the ideals I really hold.
Boredom is often the cause of promiscuity, and always its result.
The great mystery of adaptation is that true fidelity can only be achieved through lavish promiscuity.
New-born desires, after all, have inexplicable charms, and all the pleasure of love is in variety.
Screw them. Yeah. But not literally. I'm not advocating promiscuity.
My aunt could not have been the lone romantic who gave up everything for sex. Women in the old China did not choose. Some man had commanded her to lie with him and be his secret evil.
I have a heart to love all the world; and like Alexander I wish there were yet other worlds, so I could carry even further my amorous conquests.
Most memoirs about alcoholism, promiscuity, and addiction are deep, sobering tales full of scars that will never heal and include alarming statistics and reflection about recovery.This is not one of those memoirs.
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