I Slept with a Married Man: Am I Still A Good Person?

Chapter 1: I Slept with a married man – my rock bottom

Have you ever done something that you are ashamed of? Is there anything that you have done, kind reader, that you look back on and regret? Or something you did where you don’t understand why you did it? Or why you wanted to do it?

I slept with a married man. And I’m coming clean about it, to you, kind reader.

I hate it. It's an act that had me constantly questioning: Am I still a good person? Am I a good person at all?

So where do I begin… I believe I have a set of morals, a moral compass. So why would someone with morals and a moral compass sleep with a married man? A man who, admittedly, was on the brink of divorce.

Why would I do that when I know what it feels like to be a married woman and have my husband cheat on me, multiple times, over many years?

I am surrounded by people, team members, family, colleagues, friends, business partners, who look at me and think I’m a good person. More importantly, I want to be thought of as a good person by these people. More than that, I will admit there is a large part of me that wants these people to think that I look, and that I am perfect. So, if I am perfect, I can protect myself from their judgment, criticism and potential hatred of who I really am. This need to look perfect to people, to look like a white sheet without any stains, is constant and overwhelming.

In order to keep up that appearance, I have to lie. It’s a lie of omission. Of course, no one has ever asked me, outright, if I ever slept with a married man. And, obviously, I don’t talk about it. If I don’t talk about it or think about it, maybe I will forget it ever happened, and so will God and it will be like it never happened. And maybe, in the long run, when I’m 80 years old surrounded by my husband, children and grandchildren, it won’t matter. I pray to God it won’t!

For many years I thought I would keep this secret and take it to my grave.

An intelligent friend of mine, Todd, once said to me that the person who does the wrong thing feels 10 times worse than the person that was wronged.

When he said these wise words, I immediately thought of this secret, that up until that moment I had told only one other person.

Could anyone still love me if they knew that I slept with a married man, that I had lied by omission by not telling anyone this aspect of myself? That I question and fear that there may be this dark part of me that exists? Could any man still love me knowing that? Could God still love me? Could I still love myself?

Because, Todd is right. I felt and still feel, as I write this, horrible about what I did.

And more so, how does this action confirm that I, in fact, am not worthy, not worthy of love, of good things happening to me, or of being happy?

And THERE it is! The constant thought I have had since I was a little girl, for as long as I can remember:

I am not worthy.

Shame is I am a bad person. Whereas, guilt is: I did a bad thing. Shame often also translates to I am not lovable or I have no value or I am not enough and also what I described above, I am not worthy.

Have you ever had these feelings or beliefs, kind reader? Perhaps you can relate to feeling a sense of unworthiness, unlovableness, having no value? Is this a belief you have had for so long you don’t even remember when it started? By sharing my story, we’re going to talk about all of this .

At this time in my life, as I write, I have an undergraduate degree from an Ivy League University, I have earned a master’s degree, I have the title of assistant director of a graduate program, I have my own successful Network marketing business as well as a YouTube channel, and I am a partner in another online service business. While dealing with all of these titles and adult responsibilities I’ve gotten lost in the idea that I need to constantly live a life of perfection.

But if I’m honest, I have felt the need to be perfect my entire life. That I could never do wrong, nor be seen doing anything wrong. Putting on a mask, I thought people wouldn’t have to get to know the real imperfect, unlovable me. It’s better that they know the perfect version. That’s the version of the person they will respect and value.

In my youth I had friends who were not that perfect. They were rebels who did bad things or participated in risky behavior. They had oral sex in middle school, sex in high school, and smoked weed. To be honest, a part of me wanted to be able to have the freedom to be able to do those things too. I was both appalled at their actions and admired them.

Is that too honest?

I was told not to tell you, kind reader, the reason why I slept with a married man in the beginning of this book. Many believe if I did that you would not read past the first few pages. I am to understand that in this day and age, with people’s short attention spans and the freedom to make character judgments about someone after reading 140 characters, that you, kind reader, would do the same to me.

But I decided that I am going to go against that common way of thinking and instead tell you right now! I am going to share a story and reflection of how I got into this awful position and how this has changed me. Admittedly, my story will be a reflection of my memories of events and conversations. I recognize that the wording may not be exactly what was said in the years or months that have passed but that they are more likely to represent what I remember. What is most important is how these conversations impacted me. I hope that in sharing my journey with you, kind reader, that you will find my story real and authentic, comical, sometimes sad, always relatable and sprinkled with life lessons and a path towards healing. I believe my story can lead to what shame researcher and expert, Brene Brown, calls, shame resilience.

So why did I sleep with a married man? I did it for many reasons. And if I am completely honest, which is the point of this book, one of the main reasons I did it was because I was curious. What would it be like to have sex with him? In addition, in that moment I was caught up in the fact that he found me attractive and wanted me sexually. Over ten years prior, before that moment I was told, mainly by my ex-husband, that I was not attractive, not sexy, he didn’t desire me and I wasn’t worth his time. And also, in that critical moment, I had the really crazy, though fleeting, thought of: What if he IS the one for me? And finally, another reason was the fact that the guy was dominating and forceful in his advances and flirting, which, admittedly, is a turn on for me, so also in that moment, I was very titillated.

And, ultimately, I gave into the carnal feelings and went with the flow.

Upon penetration, I immediately thought: Nope! This is not a good thing to do. Having sex with him is not a good thing. He is married. Having sex with a married man is not good. I don’t like doing this! I shouldn’t be doing this.

But it was too late… Thoughts continued to race through my brain: I allowed it… If I allowed it… I can’t say ‘no’ now, I already allowed it, right?! He won’t listen to me say ‘no’ now. He was so forceful in his flirtations, I am sure he will ignore my ‘no’ and not believe I mean it. How can I get this to end as quickly as possible? What can I do so that this ends and he can leave? So, I went through the motions… made the noises… hoping to God I sounded like I was being satisfied, the whole time thinking I hope he doesn’t know I’m faking and he is turned on enough to cum and this can be over… and then it was.

And I felt ashamed and awful: there it is… I had done it… this just proves it… I am not worthy to be loved. Would he even want to do this with me if he was not married? Probably not. And now that it was over, if I wasn’t attracted to him before, now, he was even more unattractive to me. Why? Because now, what I saw about myself as unattractive, unloveable and a bad person, I now saw in him. He was my mirror.

He left soon after, and I told myself, never again.

Until, we were alone two days later and I wanted to really prove to myself that I could handle being in the same room with him, he could apply the same pressure (dominating advances) but this time I would make it stop before it got that far and we wouldn’t do it again. Scientists call this restraint bias. The fact that humans think they have more willpower than they actually do. It’s where we think we won’t give into a temptation, so we take the risk of getting close, or allow ourselves to get too close to the thing we don’t want to do, thinking we will be strong enough to stop it. But the thing is, using our will power takes a lot of energy. And we may be using that same energy throughout the day to show restraint. Fro example you don’t eat one of the brownies in the break room at work. You don’t tell your co-worker off when they’re annoying you on the Zoom meeting. You made the decision to work out or pray or meditate in the morning even when you didn’t feel like it. And then you get home and you yell at your partner and/or kids. Or you get home and eat an entire apple pie. You decide to flirt back with that person whom you know you should not be flirting with. Because the energy for restraint is now gone.

So there I was, utterly underestimating my restraint bias as he, once again, became dominant in his flirtation and I thought: maybe that last time was just a fluke… maybe I didn’t really feel like it was a bad idea. But the minute I felt his penis, before he could even penetrate, I immediately felt the same way as last time and was even more disgusted with myself. I thought: I can not do this again! So, I came up with the only thing I could think of to say that I thought would stop him in mid action. I told him that it hurt. I don’t know why he bought that lame lie, but it worked! And we stopped.

Then he was just in my home and I thought: How on earth can I get away from him and this situation without making him feel bad?

Can you believe it, kind reader?! I wanted him to not feel bad.

I don’t even remember what I said but eventually I was alone again and feeling awful.

Todd is right "when you do wrong, and you