Looking back, I realize there were many reasons I had an affair with Jack. But what lured me in was how he made me feel—with cards on my desk, flowers on my windshield, and calls just to say "hi." Finally, I was a priority in someone's life. I felt special and loved.
I met Jack when we both worked in the service department of a car dealership. Although I joked with all the guys, I noticed Jack paid more attention to me than the others. He made a point of showering me with compliments and making me laugh. Jack was fun, compassionate, and caring. He also was married.
When I started working late several nights a week, one night Jack worked late, too. Since we were the only two there, we ended up chatting late into the night. This quickly became the norm. When I was around him, I had fun, I laughed, I was happy. I could feel my attraction for him growing, but ignored it. I reasoned that not only was he married, he was also 11 years older than I. He couldn't possibly be interested in a 19-year-old girl.
But my naiveté shattered one night when we were talking in my office. I was perched casually on the edge of my desk, and he was in a chair across the room. After a brief pause in our conversation, he said quietly, "Come here." By the look in his eyes, I knew what could happen. In a fraction of a second, my mind raced through all my options. I could make the right decision—or the wrong one. I moved to him, and we began to kiss.
I'm sure part of my susceptibility to the affair stemmed from the fact my parents divorced when I was five. Although I wasn't aware of it for many years, their divorce destroyed my security. My daddy was everything to me. Not having him as a constant in my life left me feeling alone and unloved.
When I was 14, I met a young man and suddenly discovered a man's attention made me feel good. For the next seven years I jumped from one physical relationship to another, trying to maintain that feeling. I became adept at hiding this side of my life. My parents had no idea I regularly traded sex for a few minutes of "love." I knew God didn't approve, and I felt guilty. I'd grown up in a Christian home and vividly remember asking Jesus into my heart when I was four. I figured I'd done what I needed to do to avoid hell. I tried to be a nice person and do good things, figuring that was enough. I didn't understand I could have a personal relationship with Jesus.
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