The one bright spot in my life is my boyfriend, "Michael." I am very, very blessed to have him. He knows about the abuse-has known since my first date with him, and accepts me for it. We met on an online dating site. Both of us had been so badly burned in past relationships that we had only signed up for online dating as a shot in the dark. Both of us had dreamed all our lives of having a family and having children, but it seemed like we were the only ones living without either. I will be turning 23 in 2 days and since the sexual abuse at 19, I have slowly been watching every single girl I know either have children or get married. My boyfriend is turning 26 in 2 months, and it has been the same for him. Hell, I even nicknamed myself "Good Luck Chuck" because every guy I either slept with or dated would end up marrying the next girl he slept with or dated.

The day I met him online was literally on or very close to the 3rd anniversary of the night of the first rape (October 4, 2009). It was meant to be. I kept remembering the rule of 3's and how a person cannot go longer than 3 years without hope. Well, guess what...it had been a long 3 years without hope. My PTSD blackouts were starting to get more and more intense to the point where I would overdose and not be able to control what I was doing. I never told anyone. I never called anyone. Getting locked up in some psychiatric facility would only make things worse. Every time I overdosed I would wake up in the morning just fine. I felt like Kenny from South Park. No matter what happened to me, I couldn't die.

A week before we met in person, we talked on the phone. What was supposed to be a short conversation lasted all night long. We had so much in common. Michael had been in the military for 8 years and is now a lieutenant. I had always wanted to date a soldier. They know what it's like to nearly die. They're more mature. They've been through hell and back and understand hardships. They understand that you'll do whatever you have to do to survive, regardless of how filthy and degrading it is. But as we were talking, I felt a connection I had never felt before. After my last failed relationship, I didn't think that I could ever love again. I didn't think that it was possible. Michael rekindled that hope.

Before we both said good night (or, rather, good morning) and hung up the phone, Michael told me that he had a secret that he thought would prevent a woman from ever wanting to be with him again. My heart began to pound. I told him I had a secret too, and that I shared the same fears. He and I agreed to tell each other at the end of the first date. At that point, I literally did not care what the secret was. I prayed and prayed that I would be able to go through with the date. So many times in the past year I had set up a date and then cancelled at the last minute out of paralyzing fear. I almost did the same...until I entered Michael's first and last name into a Google search. I found a blog he had kept when he was a freshman in college. In one of the entries, he spoke about how disgusted he was with hearing all the boys in college talk about women like they were good for sex and nothing more. He said he wanted so much more than that in a woman. I made up my mind: I would go out with him. I'd take a chance.

He picked me up. My voice was nervous and shaky, I knew. But I shoved my fears aside and had a good time with him. I stuffed my shaking hands into my pocket. We talked and got to know each other. He took me to an arcade game place and we had a great time. Both of us worked the overnight shift at our jobs, so we stayed out all night and talked. At the end of the night, as promised, he told me his secret. His ex girlfriend had manipulated him and robbed him blind while he was overseas fighting for our country. I got tears in my eyes. As a woman who has always worked for what I've had, it made me sick. The thought of stealing from anyone makes me sick. He had been manipulated, used, and deceived by someone he loved and trusted....just like I had. Maybe he would understand my situation. Maybe he would love me anyway, damaged though I was. Take a chance, my mind urged me. Tell him.

I told him. His reaction was shocking and unpredictable.

"What you've been through makes you even more beautiful as a person, because you survived," he said. "As for those guys, I'd like to take them out to the woods and do things to them that they couldn't even think up in their wildest nightmares."

"I'd like to do the same thing to your ex," I said.

"I was lucky she only took my material things. Those animals-can't even call them men-took a lot more from you."

"You trusted her. She cheated on you and robbed you. That is evil, too."

Bonded. Inexplicably thrown together by tragic events and evil people. I felt that bond. I know he did, too. God bless the broken road that led me straight to you....

Over the next few months, I never pretended to be someone else. I did not have the energy to do so. I couldn't put on the facade that I had put on with so many others. There had been so much abuse over the past 3 years that I was in so much pain to do anything else. I couldn't handle one more heartbreak. He would have to accept me for who I was...what I was...or I couldn't do it.

Right from the beginning of the relationship, we talked marriage and family. Both of us had been through enough to know we had found the right one. But trusting him....I had to work hard at that. He was patient. He understood.

I didn't know that I was his dream girl. He wanted a girl that he could save. The rest of the world had given me up as a lost cause. So many psychologists had told me that due to my past experiences that I was unsalvagable and they didn't know how in the hell I had survived. Before I met Michael I felt like I was just waiting to die. But he never gave up on me. I had been used to testing people to see how long they would stick around. I almost made it a game. Hurt and rejected by humanity, I was my own species sent to wreak havoc on the human race.

My hero has helped me conquer so many things I never could have gotten through without him by my side. I will list them here:

I barely ate, if at all. Though I wouldn't consider myself anorexic, I definitely had a huge problem with food and body image. It's still a struggle, though nothing like it was before. I exercised for 2 hours a day in the gym, burning approximately 1200 calories each session. Not to mention I had a very physical job. Over the entire year of 2012, I did nothing but starve and exercise. Guys did not want to try to hurt or rape a girl that looked like a skeleton. They thought, "Ew, gross." That's what I wanted. I wanted them to leave me alone. That year, a rough estimate of 50 people tried to get me to stop that self-destructive behavior. All failed. They would give up after a short period of time. I would tally the number of people who gave up, like a trophy. I thought to myself, The voice in my head telling me to get thinnerthinnerthinner is the only one who will never leave me. The only one. Michael never threatened to leave, even when I got down to a weight of 100 lbs at 5'8 in January of 2013. He gently encouraged me, assured me I was safe with him, and bought foods I couldn't really help myself around. With love and acceptance, I began to heal. Slowly but surely I got back to a healthy mindset. I will never go back to that place. Never again.

I was terrified of sex, and saw it as a form of punishment and hate, not of love. Not going to lie, I still have that mindset, but we are working on that together vehemently. When we first started sleeping together, I had to get tipsy or drunk beforehand. That was the only way I could handle it. "If you tell me no, I'll stop," he said. "No matter what, I'll stop." At first I didn't believe him. I couldn't. Until one weekend when my nightmares and flashbacks and PTSD in general was so bad....he never asked me for sex, not once. After that, I knew he was with me for more than just sex, and that he was telling the truth: he loved me for me. He just seems to know all the right things to do in the bedroom to calm me. I know it's going to be such a long process but he is patient. I still cry afterwards sometimes...I can't help it. I feel bad that he has to put up with that.

"Good Luck Chuck," I sobbed. "I'm Good Luck Chuck."

"Did you ever see the ending to that movie, sweetheart?"

"No, I never did. Just that everyone he slept with ended up with the next person because he was never good enough."

"He married Jessica Alba."

"Well, he probably didn't sleep with her, then, did he?"

"Yes he did. She married him anyway." Such a ridiculous thing to cry over. Such a ridiculous conversation to have. But I was used to being nothing but sex to a man. I was just something to screw until he met the 'right one.'

I had no hope. I was just existing. The abuse had left me a shattered, fragmented mess. It had eaten a hole in my heart and ripped me to shreds. Every time I see Michael, he gives me hope. Hope for the future. Hope I never had. I trust him a little bit more every time we talk. I believe a little bit more. Slowly, very slowly. I reveal bits and pieces of the abuse a little at a time. Pieces I have never been able to speak about before with anyone. He has cried with me at the worst parts. I never thought I would be so blessed. Without him, I would probably not be here to type this.

Our relationship is not perfect by any means. We argue and bicker just like any other couple. But every time I see him, I fall more and more in love with him, and he with me.