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Really, at the heart of this is the idea that the Internet is the playground of the id, in Freudian terms, because it allows you to act anonymously.

Whereas, real life is moderated by the super ego, which forces you to act in ways that are good for the cohesive whole (i.e.

I was only 19—had I gotten pregnant, my entire life would have been narrowed to what I saw as two options: impoverishing and tremendously difficult single-motherhood, or kill what I knew to be my own child. Between such dread, confusion, and pain, hooking up had made my life hellish.

Neither choice at all easy or desirable, I felt trapped. By the time I got my period that month, my “experimenting” with casual sex was officially over.

Ones who want a relationship post on Plenty of Fish or Lavalife or e Harmony or

People I've met -- not friends -- who want a perfect partner bot to match their perfect lifestyle post on sites like Beautiful People.) As one single, dating friend told me in an email, "It's a sliding scale from Craigslist to real life encounters...

In a culture claiming to promote gender equality, I believe hooking up has taken a dramatic step in the wrong direction.

Whether we like it or not, sex is intrinsically biased against the woman: biological reality dictates that she carries the brunt of sexual risks while he wields the majority of the of sexual power. Unlike men, women incur two huge sexual risks: 1) pregnancy, and 2) failure to enjoy.

Though few are as good as the comments after a Savage Love column, they're pretty revealing about the possibilities that are out there.

Where you can request and indulge your most banal or erotic fantasies without consequence (in theory) or investment (more theory).

And where, if you're a certain way inclined, according to a Kinsey Institute scientist, you can find even more sexual enjoyment due to the anonymity factor.

At the time, I blamed myself—there must be something wrong with my inability to orgasm. When the pain was over, I often lied and claimed pleasure because I was ashamed of the truth.

There were some gentler exceptions—strangers touching me tenderly to help me enjoy myself.

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