On Friday night, I was a slutty schoolgirl. Ahhh yes… Halloween descended on Isla Vista. Here’s the thing, though – just because we were dressed provocatively does not mean that we were out prowling for penis.

I know that it is commonly thought that people use Halloween as an excuse to embody their most far-fetched fantasies, but I can promise you that my girlfriends and I did not dress as schoolgirls because we secretly desire a massive plaid-clad orgy. In fact, as far as I know, none of the girls I went out with Friday night had any desire to get it on with a nun, a priest or any other specific religious leader, except maybe the cute pastor’s son in “Saved.” Just because we were wearing little skirts and pigtails does not mean that we were down to get dirty old-school-Britney-style with every drunk guy that shamelessly heckled us this weekend.

So why did we dress up as slutty schoolgirls and not something less provocative? Don’t girls that dress provocatively just want the sexual attention such outfits attract? Weren’t we, in a sense, asking for it? No, we weren’t. You see, I love my body it looks in certain outfits. Notice I said “I.” I don’t dress for other people. I dress for myself, and sometimes it’s just fun to wear little skirts and pigtails. To paraphrase a monologue from “The Vagina Monologues,” my short skirt is for me. It is not an invitation, an advertisement or a message intended for anyone else. In fact, it has nothing to do with anyone else. It is about me. And that’s that. I don’t care if you agree or believe me, but you still have to respect that.

Here’s the other thing. It takes at least some amount of effort to get into my pants – or my schoolgirl skirt as the case may be. And you have to at least be able to maintain a good conversation to even be considered as a potential sexual suitor. And no – “Hey ladies,” followed by some mumbled drunken come-ons, does not constitute a good conversation. If you really want to get some from this scantily-clad schoolgirl, then you have to meet a couple of criteria. And because I’ve spent the past few minutes railing on pretty much every drunk guy in Isla Vista, I’ll be nice and let you in on the two secret ways my friends and I typically evaluate how we feel about the boys we meet in this lovely, little town. First, will I respect myself in the morning if I hook up with him? And second, does he respect me? See boys, it’s all about respect. And yes, I know it’s hard to be respectful when you’re puking your guts out all over your cowboy costume, but then again, how many guys can actually sustain a decent hook-up when they’re that intoxicated anyway?

It’s not that I am some neo-feminist, man-hating Nazi who won’t ever hook up with anyone unless we’re in a relationship pre-approved by Gloria Steinem and the National Organization for Women. But I can tell you unequivocally that drunkenly heckling me on DP is not the way to get into my good graces, nor my pants. If you’re really looking to do that, then try getting to know me first. Initiate a conversation. Tell me a joke. Ask me about my classes. Whatever. Just treat me with respect, and we’ll see what happens. But I can promise you that if all I hear coming out of your mouth are lame lines and corny come-ons, then you’re not getting anything from me – except maybe a swift kick with my slutty schoolgirl boots.

Mollie Vandor is a Daily Nexus reporter.