Dear Dater, (sent in dating stories from sisters like you!)

This was sent via Email from a fellow dater. We'll call her "BC". Enjoy :)

Struggling to comprehend the priest's words, I stood at the altar with sweaty palms and desperately clutched a fragrant bouquet. As I waited to state my vows, I flipped through my mind’s Rolodex searching for former boyfriends that could have potentially been standing next to me.
First, there was the "Let me check with my mom first" boyfriend. This guy would not venture anything without mommy's permission. Craig was an only child and was indulged by his doting, stay-at-home mother. His father was rarely around as his highly-paid job kept him busy trotting around the globe.
Every semester at State College, Craig changed his mind as well as his major. Being a professional student didn't pay but, rather, enabled him to continue mooching off his parents. Consequently, we ate at nice restaurants, caught the latest movies, and frequented the trendiest dance clubs. The funds came compliments of mommy's American Express card. The only catch was that he obtain her approval before charging anything. This way, mommy was able to keep close tabs on our whereabouts at all times.
Craig presented me with my first engagement ring: a beautiful diamond solitaire. He claimed he had purchased it earlier as an investment. I silently surmised that the “investment” most likely came in the form of a prior girlfriend who gave him the boot.
Although bestowed with a ring, Craig hesitated to set a wedding date or tell his family we were engaged. Eventually he followed his parents and their money when they moved to a different state. I gladly returned Craig’s “investment.”
Secondly there was the "I’m too busy for you" boyfriend. This guy’s workday was longer than Bill Clinton’s list of illicit liaisons. When the job was completed for the day, it was either paperwork that night or out for brewskis with the boys.
I, his girlfriend, appeared to be superfluous in his life. On the rare occasions when he would make an official date with me, I would brainlessly wait for him thinking, “he’ll show up any minute." When I began smelling perfume other than my own on his pillows, I gracefully bowed out of the competition.
Third came the "You must be up to something like I am" boyfriend. This guy was so busy scheming his next affair that he erroneously assumed my conduct was as disgraceful as his. This piece-of-work decided to slap an engagement ring on my left hand in hopes it would double as a chastity belt.
But the guiltier he was of indiscretions, the more he imagined I was doing the same. He then plunked the wedding band on top of the engagement ring, sans any official marital ceremony, while his left hand stayed jewelry-free.
When I discovered his trysts, I returned the rings and advised him, “tell the next sucker you give these to that they were an investment!”
Following was the "I've suffered a tragedy in my life and am therefore allowed to wallow in self-pity and be self-destructive" boyfriend. This guy’s first priority in life was drugs. He found me quite suitable since 1) I had my own place, and 2) I didn't partake in illegal substances. This way he didn’t have to be concerned with a rent payment and could spend what little cash he had on an expensive drug habit without the added worry that I might pilfer his stash.
I foolishly supported this bum because I felt sorry for the tragedy he had endured. And since he had my pity, he felt justified in sponging off me. I didn't fully grasp how absorbent he had become until after he was gone and I discovered he had supplemented his habit by hawking my watch and two cameras.
And let us not forget the "I'm too stingy with my money so we'll just spend yours" boyfriend. This guy was so tight that if you shoved a lump of coal up his derriere, a precious gem would emerge the following week.
"Stingy" had a good job working full time as a county sheriff's deputy, but the car he drove screamed "part-time Taco Bell lackey." Before long, he began spending the night on several occasions. When he started hanging his clothes in the closet and leaving a razor and toothbrush in the bathroom sink drawer, I approached him about moving in with me and sharing expenses. Surprise! He declined. But the real surprise was when after he rejected my offer more clothes were in the closet and more toiletries in the bathroom. Hmmm.
Fortunately for me, summer arrived. It was the time of year his mother made her annual trek from her city apartment to her home in the mountains. Deputy Dawg, no longer needing my domicile, quickly packed his things and moved in to mom's temporarily-vacated (and rent-free) apartment. But come September, Deputy Dawg was back a-knockin' at my door. Only I wasn't a-answerin'!
Last, but not least, was the "I'm separated but cheating on you with my wife" boyfriend. This man had left his wife after discovering she had been sleeping with another man. However, in his tale of woe, he neglected to mention that she was getting even with him for all the times he had cheated on her. He moved in with me ("only temporarily until [his] wife moves out of the house"), and I listened as he tearfully recounted his trials and tribulations.
Occasionally, I would wake in the middle of the night to find he hadn't come home. He would call the next day to apologize and claim he had fallen asleep on his mother's lazy-boy chair after drinking too much beer. It was later revealed that these were the nights he went back to his wife.
I soon grew bored with this routine and met my future husband at work. When I told "beer boy" to take a hike, the first phone call he made was to his estranged wife. He sobbed as he told her that if he had hurt her as much as I had hurt him, then he was terribly sorry. Regrettably, this conversation happened simultaneously with his fist violently puncturing my kitchen wall.
The memories of these so-called boyfriends sent macabre chills down my spine and my body shuddered. Trying to shake it off, I drew in a deep breath.
As I slowly exhaled, I realized that these boyfriends did serve a worthy, if not desirable, purpose. They were the steps necessary to teach me who and what I could live with and without. This way, when Mr. Right entered into my life, I recognized him just that much easier.
My attention focused back to the ceremony, and I turned to gaze into my betrothed’s eyes. I breathed easier, and a contented smile crossed my lips.
"I do."