"I'm not a slut. I just love, love."

I've debated just how much I want to share here, but I've said time and time again that I am an open and honest person, so here goes nothing.

Recently I was asked about my past sexual experiences, specifically to name the most unusual location I'd had sex. I had to sit and think for a bit about this one and the fact that I had to think about it messed with my head a little. I actually sat there for a moment and called myself a slut as I listed place after place. Can you imagine being so hard on yourself for your past that you would call yourself a derogatory name and believe it without a doubt? I had to dig deep to pull myself out of the beginnings of a mental spiral. Don't laugh. I have spiraled over less.

I've never felt I was overly promiscuous, but listing place after place and naming off all of the people I had been with threw me for a loop. Why was I so surprised? I mean, it isn't like I didn't know how many people I had slept with! My first sexual experience of any kind was at age 15, so I suppose I have many (31) years and experiences to pull from. So where are some of those places? A lake, the back of a truck, the cab of a truck, the hood of a truck. Ok, so I pretty well have trucks covered. Backroads in the middle of nowhere, swimming pools and hot tubs, and the answer that I finally came up with for the person who originally asked - a baseball field. Question asked and answered and I put it out of my mind.

Then in the middle of the night the strangest thing happened. My brain kicked into gear and I started remembering things that I should never have forgotten. A side path at a very busy park where we could have easily been discovered, parking lots in several different cities/towns. Behind a church... What can I say? Sometimes you just go with it.

As these moments came tumbling back through my memories, the one that stood out the most, the one that was definitely the oddest, the one that should have been the first thing I thought of when I was questioned, suddenly appeared in great detail. What was this craziness? Well, that would be my very first time. In fact, my very first date. The guy I went out with took me to a cemetery. A cemetery. 

Now, I don't scare easily so I wasn't too freaked out at this, but it was definitely odd. His reasoning? Well, there certainly wouldn't be anyone around! He had a point. And he was correct...until we saw headlights coming toward us from the other side of the cemetery. Yeah. That happened.

Cue another mini panic attack at 2 a.m. that I somehow managed to re-direct my brain from.

A couple of days after I was asked this question I joined a good friend for a night of catching up. Just drinking and talking down at the beach. And after sitting and chatting with her for several hours, I felt much better about my past, especially when it was pointed out that we'd had some similar experiences.

So what is my point in talking about all of this? To brag about places I've had sex? No. To point out how many people I've been with? No. Absolutely not. I'm talking about this because of that mental spiral that I almost tripped on. 

I was always taught growing up that "good girls" waited until marriage. Being taught this and knowing that I didn't wait made me feel like a horrible person for years. Of all the things I was taught, this is the one that I hate the most and have struggled with the most when examining my sexuality. I am not a bad person just because I had sex before marriage. I am not a bad person because I've slept with more than just my husband. I am not a bad person because I've had sex places other than a bed. But mentally, every once in a while, this bullshit sneaks back up on me and that damn spiral begins.

As a mother I hope that I have instilled in my children that they will not be less because of their decisions. Do I want them running out and having sex? Hell no. But that is the mom in me and simply because I want them to be little again and crawling up on my shoulder to take a nap instead of thinking about sex. Growing up is just as hard on the parents as it is the children! Maybe even harder as we walk a very fine line in letting them do things on their own instead of helping them and knowing when and when not to offer that help. 

I don't want to see them get their hearts shattered because they have sex and then never hear from that person again. (We all know it happens.) Am I going to tell them they are bad or that they screwed up their life because they took that leap? No. In fact, I encourage them, when they are ready, to explore (safely!) so that they are better prepared for what/who they want in life.

Life is hard and we tend to make things harder still by listening to others rather than listening to ourselves. So I'm leaving you with this - when you find yourself struggling with your past, or with a decision you have to make, do yourself a favor and listen to the only person that truly matters.

You.

Much love from me to you!

Shelly (a/k/a Dawn Love)