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Yet I felt I would implode if I didn't immediately talk to someone neutral and anonymous. I'm not sure why I didn't call a counselor during regular business hours; it wasn't as if the trouble happened only that one night, without warning. If you're a regular Sex Drive reader, you know I'm not shy (although I'll admit this is not the easiest lede I've ever written).And you've probably figured out that I see strength in reaching for connection and help in painful times. The wee hours are when we are too tired to filter ourselves, when we are most vulnerable to dropping our shields and exposing our rawest truths – which so often, and I dare you to prove otherwise, revolve around love and sex.They use computers at home, at friends' places, at the library and at school to work, play and communicate.
While my husband spent most evenings catching up on the horse racing he'd recorded over the weekend, I began perusing chatrooms – not in pursuit of cybersex necessarily, but initially more for harmless flirtation, a little virtual attention.From the sublime and educational to the provocative and salacious, I am often amazed at the information and materials that can be found on the Internet.So it should not come as a surprise that the Internet, along with other technologies, plays a role in both enabling and combating human trafficking.Soon, I was spending hours in the parallel universe of cyberspace, often through wonderfully wide-awake nights, uninhibited in a way I never could be in reality.I told no one, immersed and isolated in my secret life. In moments of fleeting clarity, I wanted to understand what was happening to me. Was it just my marriage problems, or was there something deeper causing me to behave that way?
My distress peaked one night and I found myself frantically searching the web for some kind of drop-in crisis counseling chat.