So here’s an email I got:
John,
I would love to get the advice of you (and your wonderful readers) about something. I’m 44 years old, divorced, and have two children. I’ve been sexually active since I was fifteen years old. I had a conversion experience in my twenties, but was married at the time. After my ex and I split I spent pretty close to a year and half without dating anyone. I didn’t expect, honestly, to ever really date anyone again.
So last November I met Roger. He is 48, divorced for quite a few years. His son is grown. Roger is a Christian, but in a mature, accepting way. He went to Bible college when he was young intending to be a minister, and had a very conservative faith in his younger years, but he’s very smart and very open minded and his life experiences molded his beliefs so that he and I are very similar in our faith.
I am IN LOVE with this man. He is sweet, thoughtful, calm, tender, generous, self-composed, responsible, reliable, loving and smart. He treats me like I walk on water, he’s exceptionally patient with my special-needs kids and get this — he’s even willing to learn how to ride a horse so that he can share my passion for all things equine.
I’ve been genuinely surprised at how exceptional this relationship is; I had spent years in a marriage full of anger and bitterness and verbal/emotional abuse. I’m not used to being around someone who is genuinely happy to see me every time he sees me. I’m not used to being around someone who is optimistic. Kind. Thoughtful. Unselfish. He and I were both wounded by our past relationships, and we both have independently and prayerfully reached the conclusion that God has given us to each other to bring about an exceptional amount of healing. I’m so grateful for him, as I know he is for me. For the first time ever in a relationship I’m not worried about when he’ll ask me to marry him – or even IF he’ll ask me to marry him. We are so happy and so content just to be with one another and frankly, after the recent horrid end to my last marriage, I’m not in a big hurry to repeat the past. I think Roger is probably open to getting married again, in fact from everything I can recall from conversations, he probably has every intention of marrying me should the day arrive when I’m no longer freaked out by the notion.
Now I’m no biblical scholar. My faith is centered so much more around my understanding of God as I have come to know Him. One thing I’m curious and wondering about — and maybe a little worried about, though I must not be THAT worried about it because it hasn’t changed my behavior — is the question of sex outside of the marriage relationship. See, in addition to all of the other wonderful qualities Roger has, and all of the incredible ways we complement each other relationally, there is the added benefit of some really incredible sexual chemistry between us. I have found my soulmate in every way imaginable, and I’m stunned at my age to be having this kind of spectacular sex life. He and I have the same effect on each other, and the weeks when my kids are with their dad, we can’t keep our hands off of each other. It’s like being teenagers, except worse, because we know SO much more than we did way back then about Tab A and Slot B.
I asked Roger what his thoughts were on whether what we were doing was sinful, and his answer was that a) we are mutually committed to one another even though we aren’t married, b) nobody is being hurt, emotionally or physically or otherwise and c) why would God give us something that feels so amazingly good if we’re not supposed to do it? I worry sometimes that it’s not bad enough that I’m a divorced heathen Christian who likes her wine and swears too much, but that I have to go and compound the situation by acting like an adulterous whore. But there you have it. I’m not sure it hinders my spirituality, but I will be very honest, there are times I have a good deal of residual guilt about this. Is that just left over from my conditioning — being a child of parents who never, ever talked about sex, and being in churches where I was told what I am now doing was a horrible sin? Or is that guilt there to tell me that I need to put a chastity belt on until I’m ready to marry my boyfriend?
Your advice would be much appreciated. Thank you!
First of all, I want to express to anyone reading this how deeply I hope that you were not, as I was, eating, when you read the words “Tab A and Slot B,” scrambled eggs. Or, for that matter, eggs of any sort.
So that’s another breakfast ruined by someone writing me about their sex life.
Which reminds me: yesterday, having misspelled the word masticate, my spell-checker prompted the alternative masturbate. Which certainly is an alternative to chewing your food.
But the point is, there’s an important lesson there for all of us.
Wait. No, there isn’t. Sorry.
Right. So about this letter. I love it. I love how perfectly it captures what a healing joy a truly good relationship is. She really does seem to be in love with him; he really does seem worthy of that love.
Yay for love!
But … this sentence sounded a horsefly-in-the-ointment alert:
I think Roger is probably open to getting married again, in fact from everything I can recall from conversations, he probably has every intention of marrying me should the day arrive when I’m no longer freaked out by the notion.
Underlines mine.
So now I’ll talk directly to the woman who wrote me this letter:
Dear WWWMTL:
Thanks for writing me this great letter! And congratulations on your new excellent-sounding relationship!
The reason I highlighted the sentence above is because it raises two major questions:
1. Why don’t you know how Roger feels about marriage? That you don’t know something so fundamental to your relationship with him as how he feels about getting married generally and about marrying you specifically can only mean that you’re not as close to Roger as you’ve otherwise indicated you are. It’s like saying that your car means everything in the world to you — you love that car; you dote over it! — but then being unable to say what color the car is. It doesn’t make sense. How could you have talked with him about this so few times that in trying to share Roger’s thoughts on the matter, all you can say is, ” … from everything I can recall from our conversations about it … ?” You should know exactly what the man thinks and feels about marriage, and why. Having that chuck of knowledge missing from your relationship is like having the cornerstone missing from a new building. It’s just not a good foundation.
2. Why are you “freaked out by the notion” of marrying Roger? You’ve told us he’s the greatest guy in the history of testosterone: a fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime man whom you love with all your heart. So why does the notion of marrying him freak you out? I understand that what happened with your first marriage has left you wary of marrying again. And that’s understandable: nobody goes prancing across a field in which they believe are buried land mines. But you’ve already committed to Roger in every last way except marriage. You’ve already traveled across that field. And yet, having arrived safely at the other side, you’re still terribly worried that something might unexpectedly blow up on you. And that’s cool. But it indicates that in some major way you’re not actually at the party you’re throwing. And you’ve said you’re not sure you’ll ever want to attend that party. So maybe letting that party wind down a bit is in order.
And let’s look for a moment at Roger’s justifications for why you and he should keep having sex together. (Obnoxiously sexist side note: gee, what a surprise: a man with logical reasons for why a woman should keep having lots of sex with him.)
1. “We are mutually committed to one another, even though we aren’t married.” You and Roger may be “mutually committed” to one another, but you’re not fully committed to one another: if you were, you’d be married. Inside that innocuous sounding “even though” lies much baggage that needs unpacking.
2. “Nobody is being hurt, emotionally or physically.” But you’ve said that at times the sex you’re having with Roger leaves you with “a good deal of residual guilt.” That is somebody being hurt. That’s you being hurt. You’ve either not told Roger about this guilt you suffer — or you have told him about it, and he’s failing to take it as seriously as he should. Either is problematic.
3. “Why would God give us something that feels so amazingly good if we’re not supposed to do it?” What is he, eight? (Sorry.) Anyway, again: it’s not feeling so “amazingly good,” is it? Guilty is about the least amazingly good feeling anyone can have.
So. Logic FAIL all around, yes?
I do want to stress again how wonderful this relationship sounds; nothing I’m saying here is any reason to think it can’t develop into something spectacular and enduring.
That said, you have only known this guy for six or seven months. And what right now is happening with your relationship with him is that: A. He (apparently) doesn’t want to get married to you; B. You (apparently) don’t want to get married to him; and C. You live with your children.
So my Complete Vote is that you stop having sex with Roger until the two of you really are committed enough for you, in your heart of hearts, to be absolutely, one hundred percent positive that, in giving to him your all, you are not transgressing against something at least as dear to you as he could ever be. I suggest you tell Roger that you want to put the brakes on your sexual relationship with him until you figure out what about having sex with him is producing your resultant guilt. Tell him you want him as a partner in your exploration of that deeply emotional terrain. If he really loves you — if Roger really is the Mr. Right he certainly seems to be — then he’ll be deeply gratified to no longer be for you a source of guilt, honored that you’ve chosen to be so honest with him, and excited about beginning the journey you just invited him on toward a whole other level of relationship with you.
What say you, wonderful readers?
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