I Had Sex Last Night: Breaking My Vow of Celibacy

God has not moved from me. It is I that have moved from Him. But the door is

always open.

It happened. Twice. In 24 hours. I had sex. Twice in 24 hours.

After almost two years of celibacy, I had sex. Twice in 24 hours. I should be stunned – but I’m not. I should feel guilty, but Idon’t. I should feel ashamed, but I won’t. Why not? I’m a woman ofGod, so how can I not feel stunned, guilty and ashamed that I had sex outside of marriage? Because I’m a grown woman. Let me explain.

I had been a long and stressful year. I got divorced, refinanced my home, got a call that my children were in a car accident, lost thousands of dollars in an insurance scam, and had my basement flood. Did I mention it had been a stressful year?

I was treating myself to a well-deserved vacation. Somewhere warm, sunny and peaceful would do the trick. Not too far away – I didn’t want to deal with the hustle and bustle of the airport or the stress of a long drive. I decided on a resort about an hour away. A chateau in fact. Complete with a winery, several restaurants a spa and a beautiful outdoor pool. It was perfect.

I went to the website, selected the dates and my room and then it hit me. I’m going on vacation alone. For almost twenty years I vacationed with a husband, then a husband and kids – then just me and the kids, but never alone. I clicked the x in the corner and closed the computer.I opened the calendar on my phone. Just as I thought. I had signed up for a summer training at work during that week. Besides, I didn’t need to spend that kind of money of a vacation for just me. My daughter was going off to college on few weeks- surely the money would better be spent there. And the dogs. Who would take care of them while I was gone? Boarding them for 4 days would be expensive. I would just have a staycation instead. I’d rent a few movies, park myself on the couch with a bottle of wine and maybe even read a few books. The matter was settled. Just one problem. Ikept going back to the resort website.

That sparkling, blue pool water, the beautiful vineyard, that amazing spa tub. And what’s that? Stay two nights and get a third night free? If that’s not confirmation I don’t know what is! Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my credit card and booked the room. I felt more relaxed already.

Then I met him.

I had tried an online dating website a few months back and found nothing but frustration and game-playing. I thought dating grown men as a grown woman would be so much easier than dating in my twenties. Wrong! It seems that being born a male and being in your forties does not make you a grown man. Surprise! I vowed not to try it again but a friend of mine was having success on another site, so I decided to give it a try. Eureka! I met him.

His profile was intriguing. He described himself as a hard worker, calm spirited, a Christian, passionate, romantic, and mentally and financially stable. He said he loved God, travel, music, dining out and sports. That checks off almost the boxes on my Boaz list! Did I mention he was handsome? Sexy goatee and mustache, a bald head and that smile. Such a warm smile. He was looking for a classy woman with the same interests and attributes. I swiped right.

It turns out, he was a man of action. Not only did he call me the same night, we met two days later for dinner. So, this is where I get checked by God. So, he told me he was 5’6, the same height as me, and I told him that didn’t bother me. Well, that changed the minute we stood next to each other. I felt like I was towering over him. I guess it didn’t help that I had on three inch heels. He’d mentioned in conversation that there’s nothing sexier than a woman in a dress and heels. I didn’t wear a dress, but I part of me still wanted to be sexy, i.e. the heels.

He was dressed nice, but the outfit made him appear even shorter. He had on a suit, a bow tie, and suspenders. He did warn me that he was coming from a function and might be overdressed, so I wasn’t surprised. Ok, maybe I was a little surprised by the

suspenders. He complimented my outfit and hair and openly admitted that he felt overdressed. As soon as we ordered our drinks, took off the bowtie and jack and rolled up his sleeves. I took that opportunity to really admire his bald head and sexy goatee. It was there in person just like it was on his profile. And so was that warm smile.

Fast forward through two more dates and hours of texting and talking on the phone. We had shared some very personal stories about our marriages (my one-his two), our children (my two teenagers-his three grown-ups and one 7-year-old) and our beliefs.

Oh my, our beliefs! I knew he was a Christian from his profile I gathered through conversation that he attended church weekly, loved gospel music, prayed and had a personal relationship with God. We mirrored one another in all these respects, but there was one area that I suspected we would differ. Sex.

By chance the subject came up while we were texting one night. I decided to test the waters and see how he would respond. “God says wait until marriage,” I said, “and that’s my plan.” You could have cut the tension with a knife. After more texting and

conversation, he said he didn’t know if he could handle it but was willing to try. He didn’t want to be responsible for me falling short of my goal. “I’m a grown woman,” I told him. “Whatever I decide to do is my choice and I’m responsible.” Famous last words.

The better we got to know each other, the more truth I saw I his profile. He showered me with affection and passion over the course of three dates. Affection came through him slowing caressingmy fingers, placing his hand on the small of my back and gently placing kisses on my check. The subtle brushes of his lips on mine and the easy intertwining of our tongues brought fire. Passion silently spilled over me. Deliberately and delicately like warm, drizzling caramel. As if touches weren’t enough, passion revealed itself in long, penetrating gazes. It came in phrases like, “I wonder what’s behind

those eyes.” He left me speechless.

Along with the affection and passion came stimulating conversation and lots of laughter. We teased one another about how were similar, yet unapologetically different in many ways. We both work hard. He was blunt – I was, tactful. We both love beautiful

(expensive) things. He was bold – I was conservative. We both are equally satisfied with dinner and a show or take out and Netflix. I called him my Cultured Thug.

The biggest difference between us was how honest and upfront about his feelings and thoughts. Mine were under lock and key. His transparent thoughts are what opened the door to him joining me on my vacation. When I told him about the trip, he

jokingly said, “I should crash your vacation.” When I told him, he was welcome to come and hang out with me one day, he was taken aback.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have invited myself. That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” I replied. “After a couple of days of solitude, I’ll be ready for some company. You’re welcome to come.”

After a little more convincing that he really was welcome, he agreed, and we began to work out the details. Now in the back of my mind, I knew this vacation crash meant he was spending the night.

He wasn’t due to arrive at the resort until four (at the earliest) after a long day at work and a three-hour drive-in traffic. I joked about bringing flannel pajamas and him sleeping in the bathtub, but we both knew we would be sharing the King-sized bed. I mulled over the different scenarios that could unfold in that King-sized bed between him and I.

Scenario 1: We would put pillows down the middle of the bed. After a kiss goodnight, I would fall asleep on my side and he fall asleep on his.

Scenario 2: We would embrace each other and kiss passionately; neither of us wanting to let go. We would lie on the bed kissing and touching each other but abruptly halt as we realize we shouldn’t make love – so we don’t. We fall asleep in each other’s arms instead.

Scenario 3: We make love. It’s amazing! We make love again the next morning. It’s even more amazing!

I wish I could tell you that scenario one or two played itself out that night, but it didn’t. Scenario three became my reality. I. Had. Sex. Twice.

I could say that had a too much wine that night and blame it on the alcohol. I could say he seduced me with his passionate kisses and tantalizing touches and blame it on him. I could say I got caught up in the situation and lost control of my hormones and blame it on my flesh. Instead I’m going to be totally transparent and tell you that I

am to blame. It was totally, 100% my fault. Correction. Not my fault. The word fault insinuates that something happened as a result of the unexpected; that it was unintentional. My actions were intentional.

I tried to tell myself that the plan was for us to not to have sex. But it never was. It had been almost two years since I’d had sex. It had been a long time since a man awakened the feelings that he ignited inside of me that night. I wanted to feel his skin on my skin. I wanted to feel the passion he expressed in his kisses in his love

making. I wanted to feel desired, excited and sexually satisfied.The girl inside of me wanted to blame him.

He shouldn’t have come — but I invited him. He shouldn’t have spent the night —

but I told him he could. He shouldn’t have kissed me like that — but I kissed him back. He should have stopped — but I didn’t say stop . I acted like a full grow woman and made the decision to have sex, now I had to act like a full grow woman and take responsibility.

It took seven whole days for me, a full-grown women, to come to God about what happened that night. First, I confessed my indiscretions to my best friends and my cousin. They reassured me that it was okay. It was my decisions to make and that I shouldn’t feel guilty. They were ecstatic that I had such an amazing experience with him. It had been such a long time – I deserved it. But what exactly was it? Was it sexual satisfaction? Was it the opportunity to do whatever I wanted to do? It was a little of

both.

I knew that the only man that should experience making love to me is my husband. No husband. No sex. Unfortunately, my knowledge did not translate to my behavior. I didn’t rationalize that it was okay just this one time – just because it had been so long. I

made a conscious decision that I was going to have sex that night, with him. I racked my brain trying to come up with some deep, self- reflective reason why I chose to have sex, but it’s really pretty simple. I had sex because I wanted to. The experience was worth the

consequences.

Wow! That was so hard to admit

It took me seven whole days to have the full conversation with myself.

Girl, you had sex with him because you wanted to. You made the choice to feel sexually gratified over spiritually satisfied. You traded a few hours of pleasure, for days -even weeks of confusion, guilt, frustration, shame, and disappointment. You made a grown woman choice, and it wasn’t worth it.

Then I had to have that some conversation with God. I was scared. I was ashamed. But I knew He loved me unconditionally –and but for His grace. I stepped away from God, but He did not step away from me. He left the door open and I walked, no ran back into His arms seven days later. Here’s how.

For two days, I walked around in a state of euphoria. I was high on sex. I was high from the physical arousal and intimacy that I shared with him. There was a connection between us before we had sex and it felt stronger afterward. I replayed the experience over and over in my head with smile on my face. Then things shifted. By day three, the high was gone. The giddiness of the experience and the excitement of sharing the news with my closest friends had expired. It was old news and I was left with just the facts.

A numbness came over me. I recognized that I’d had sex, but I emotionally detached myself from the experience. I believe in soul ties, so I needed to be numb to protect myself from the emotional damage that was sure to come. It was just a matter of time. To make things even more complicated, I didn’t see him for two weeks after we had sex. We spoke and texted but did not see each other. He’d gone out of the country on a vacation he’d planned before he met me. We spoke or texted every day but I still felt some kind of way about not seeing him. Part of me felt like he wasn't interested anymore. He got what he wanted and the relatinship was over. The other part felt like he wanted to pursue something more – something deeper than sex.

The time apart was good for me to reflect and regroup. There was no chance for sex with ten thousand miles between us, so I was safe. But what would

happen when he came back ? There so many

things about him that I still didn't know. . True intimacy is not felt by the body, but by the

soul.

By day six, I was having soul-wrenching inner turmoil. I roller-coastered from denial, to sadness, to apathy, to guilt, to fear. The started all over again. I silently wondered if God would punish me for having sex. Deep down I knew that’s not how God works, but the fear still remained. Even though I prayed and read my devotionals, I felt cut off from God. Like He wasn’t listening – like He wasn’t there. Finally, on day seven I figured out why.

I was talking to God about everything under the sun, except having sex. I asked for forgiveness of my sins but didn’t ask for forgiveness for having sex. It was like having an elephant in the room but having a conversation about the weather. I had to stop

talking about everything else and talk to God about what was on my heart.

It was time.

I went to my Bible App and searched ashamed, lonely, sex. I read the scriptures and really thought about them. I let myself feel all the raw emotion of the shame and

the loneliness. And then, this one verse set me free:

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our

sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:9

So, I confessed, “God, I made a choice to have sex because I wanted to feel desired and sexually satisfied. I take responsibility for what I’ve done. I know it was wrong. Please forgive me. Help me not to do it again.”

And just like that I was forgiven. I felt the burden of sin lifted. ran through the door that God had left open just for me and leaped into his arms like a child. God forgave me. And He will forgive you too.