In which I come clean about my past.

I remember meeting a guy online -- I was 16, he was in his 20's -- and making plans to hang out with him at a hotel in Sandusky. I told my parents I was going to Homecoming, and I dressed up. He picked me up, and we drove an hour to the hotel. When we got there, we hung out. He told me that I wasn't pretty enough for him to have sex with, but I could suck his dick if I wanted. I did not want to, so he drove me home and dropped me off at the driveway and sped away. I never spoke with him again.

I remember meeting a guy online -- I was 16, he was in his 20's, but a different guy -- and he and I talked and talked every night for weeks. I was really into him, and he drove to meet me at the local mall. We had fun, but when I talked to him afterwards, he told me that I had tried to hold his hand too many times and it made him uncomfortable. I never spoke with him again.

I once met a guy online, in a Tori Amos chat room, and we talked a lot. For months. I got to know his friends and I felt really close to them. They were from Florida. One day, I got a phone call in my dorm room. He and his two friends had driven up to surprise me. Nervous, I dressed all in black (they only wore black) and went to meet them. They were awkward. I was not as cool as they were. They went away to have dinner and never came back. I never spoke to them again.

In college, I met a guy online (yes, this is a pattern -- this is where I find my men) and we talked for a year, maybe. I loved him. Absolutely loved him. I know that's weird, but I actually think he's the only guy I loved in that teenage, end-of-the-world way. He was a great guy. When we finally met up, he didn't like me at all. We slept in my tiny twin bed, not touching each other. We attempted to remain friends after, but I was hurt and he was brusque and we eventually stopped talking.

One time in college, I met a guy online, and I went to his house to meet him and we had sex on his bedroom floor and I left and we never talked again. Do you see the difference there? I was done being hurt. I was done putting myself out there and being rejected. So I rejected right along with him. It didn't hurt as much.

I never really dated in college. I had friends who I had sex with. There was the Iranian guy with the huge penis who was kind of an asshole, but kind of pretty cool. There was the Indian guy from the University of Toledo whom I had sex with here and there. Those kind of friendships don't always end well -- someone is always getting hurt -- and I was the one who got hurt.

I had so much sex in college. So, so much. Every time I had sex, part of me was hoping -- hoping against hope -- that maybe I would find the one guy who would fall in love with me. But most of me knew that it would never happen, and so I let myself be used.

By the time I got out of college, I had hardened my heart against this. I had developed the mentality that sex was just like a handshake -- as long as you were safe, it was two bodies meeting. I had sex with a guy that I didn't even know on the floor in my friend's living room. I had a lot of sex with a Navy recruiter at his apartment. We'd get drunk first and then go back to his apartment. I would wake up at 4 in the morning and stop and grab breakfast by myself on the way back.

When I moved into my own place, I started spending time with this guy named Vincent. Vincent was built and confident and intelligent and tough. He was nice to me. We had sex once and then we decided to just be friends, but we were pretty close. We spent almost every day together. Eventually, he found a woman to love and he was with her all of the time. Around this time, I met the guy who would become my ex-husband.

It's no wonder that when I met my ex-husband, who was not very attractive (pretty eyes, though) and who smoked pot (which I didn't know right away). the fact that he paid attention to me and wanted me around was a big motivation for why I stayed with him. Do you see my previous experiences with men? From the feedback I'd gotten, I had a great personality and maybe was okay to have sex with, but I wasn't anyone that a person would want to show off. I wasn't good enough to be introduced to parents or friends. I was to be hidden in the bedroom and then ushered out the back door.

My ex-husband gave me a whole new set of complexes and a mild case of PTSD. If you've read my blog, you've read my stories about that. After him, I would go online and lie about what I looked like. For the first time in my life, I was being admired and told how pretty I was. For the first time in my life, I got to feel what it was like to have someone want me around for more than sex. It was like a drug. Of course, when I would eventually have to meet someone, I would become anxious and nervous and it was awful, but that was the crash after the drug.

When I met Yanks, I lied to him, too. But when I told him the truth, he forgave me. Later, I'd find out that there were things that he had hidden from me, too. Our entire relationship was built on excellent intentions and a whole lot of hurt and lies.

I went a long time without sex when I was with Yanks. Years. And I missed it a lot. When I was single again, I hopped on a dating site and I actually put my own picture up. And guess what? I actually got people who wanted to get to know me. People liked me, and I liked them. It was great! And then I would meet up with them, and it turned out that they only really wanted sex. Once again, I let them have what they wanted. This time, I made myself believe that it was only bodies meeting, that it was only physical. I had sex with six different men in January. This time, I didn't feel empty afterwards. I didn't cry when they left. I kept in touch with most of them and had a relationship with one of them and hung out with a couple of them again.

I knew I needed to write all of this out. It's like my credit or those damn student loans -- if I don't look at the whole picture, I'll never have to face what's really wrong. I need to take a good look at myself. Sex CAN be just a handshake, but it's not always, and I don't know that it's always like that with me. I think I'm usually hoping that I'll find "him" and lure men to me with my amazing girl parts, and that they'll never leave.

I need to take a year without dating sites. I need to take a year where I concentrate on making myself more healthy, inside and out. I need to train my dogs. I need to make the relationships I already have stronger. I need to meet people in other ways than on my computer. I need to write more and maybe publish.

This is probably the one way that I'm ever going to be happy. Otherwise, I'm going to get caught up in this pattern of casual sex again, and it will break my heart.

Sometimes, memories can teach us a lot.