Guilt, or Lack Thereof: Revisited

What I wrote a couple days ago: I thought I would feel guilty. I thought I would be ashamed. After all, I made a vow. But I don't feel guilty. I knew it was wrong, but it felt good so I went ahead anyway. That's the usual recipe for guilt (and disaster). But I can't find the guilt. It's just not here. And I know that that's a bad, bad thing.

Still not feeling the guilt. Still knowing I should feel guilty, but just don't. After all, adultery is a pretty major sin (although, really - are there minor ones?). I've never cheated on my husband before. At least not to this extent. Full-blown, no question of "is it really cheating?," skin-on-skin, multi-position, sweating, sighing, moaning, exchange-of-bodily-fluids adultery. And I can guarantee it won't be the last time.

I love my husband. I will never willingly leave him. We have two children together. In many ways, we are good together. But a woman can only take so much sexual rejection. There comes a time when you just want to be admired and desired; to touch and be touched; to please and be pleasured. I don't want to hurt my husband, even though he regularly hurts me. I really don't want to cause him pain.

My adultery is not my husband's fault. I make my own choices, good or bad. But a little more attention and affection might have prevented this. We were home alone, no kids, from Wednesday evening until Saturday morning. I gave him opportunities, I tried to initiate a little something-something, and finally just came right out and asked for it, but he just wasn't interested. He took me to dinner and a movie one night, we did some household projects together (our home is in a constant state of renovation), and generally got along well. He wasn't unhappy with me. He just didn't want to have sex. Again. It's such a blow to my ego and self-esteem every time. Intellectually, I know it's not really me (though he sometimes says it is). I know that "performance anxiety" is an issue ever since his vasectomy. I addressed this briefly once before. I've suggested he talk to his doctor, but he's just too embarrassed to even acknowledge with me that there's a problem.

That was the turning point for me. I've been on the edge of the abyss for awhile. I joined a "hook-up" type web site a few months ago. I've emailed and chatted with a few people. I had been dancing around a meet-up with one guy. We had talked on the phone. Still trying to decide if I really wanted to go through with anything. On Saturday, my husband left to go up north to be with our kids and his siblings for Father's Day at his parents'. I stayed behind to spend Father's Day with my beloved Daddy. But that gave me all Saturday afternoon and evening with no husband, no kids.

I met up with the guy. Married with little to no sex, like me. We talked some more. God or fate or whatever even gave me another "out." Before things had gone beyond the point of no return, the guy and I were talking about church (yes, we're both Christians. Also sinners, obviously. Are you not? Then put the stones away.). He asked which church I belong to and I told him. He got a funny look on his face, was quiet for a moment, and finally asked "So do you know "Jane Smith?" I replied that I did, pretty well in fact, and he said "That's my sister-in-law. . . My wife's twin sister." I sat slack-jawed for a moment. You have to understand, our metropolitan area has between 500,000 and 1.3 million people, depending on how many communities you choose to include in the metro area. We'll go conservative with 500,000. Out of that many people, what are the odds that I will not only know the wife of the guy I'm considering hooking up with, but have worked on a couple projects with her, bought subs from her sons, and our daughters enjoy playing together? I shit you not. She doesn't attend our church, but has helped her sister out with stuff that I also work on. So that was my "out." I could've said "Gee, I know and like your wife. I just can't do this." I considered my options and didn't take the out (and neither did he). I can't say God didn't give me a chance. I chose my fate.

Quote of the day: "Your husband turns this down? He's insane."

Saturday, I teetered on the edge and then plunged head first into the abyss. It's dark, but not cold. Pretty darn hot, in fact. And I like it. Question is, will God forgive that for which I do not repent?