Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow. I know your evenings get long and lonely when Del's at work." Johnny paused at my front door. He slowly turned
to face me. Our eyes locked and instinctively I knew he planned to kiss me. What frightened me more than the prospect of his kiss was the fact that I wanted it, longed for it, even dreamed of it. In the next heart-stopping
moment, he swept me into his arms, kissing me with a passion that I hadn't experienced in years. My lips returned his kiss. My mind screamed no, but my heart cried yes. This was Johnny, my husband's good friend. What was I doing?
After the breath-stealing kiss, I heard him whisper: "I think I'm falling in love with you. I don't know what to do. You're Del's wife." His guilt-filled blue eyes begged for forgiveness and understanding.
I didn't
know what to do either. I stood face-to-face with temptation. Not a piece of fruit, but a hunk of muscle with inviting eyes that held a promise of forbidden pleasure. He gently laid his warm hand against my cheek. "I want you,
I need you," he whispered. His lips found mine again.
What about Del?, reality screamed in my brain. I didn't want to remember. I longed to continue along this path of discovery. I reveled in the emotions
this man evoked in me. I teetered on the brink of a tawdry affair that would destroy a friendship and a marriage. I hung motionless between right and wrong, desiring wrong, choosing right.
"Stop," I backed out of his embrace. "I can't do this." Hurt and rejection etched themselves
across his face. "I feel the same emotions you do, but I've never been with anyone except Del. I made a vow to
him. No matter how much I want you, need you, I can't. I just can't..." Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I'm sorry. I never intended to hurt you." He wiped a tear away with his thumb. "I can't come back
anymore."
"I know," I whispered through the lump in my throat. As he left, the closing of the door brought a finality that made the ache in my heart increase. I crumpled into a pain-filled ball on the floor,
wondering why right choices often felt wrong at the time.
As I laid there crying out my pain, I wondered how this happened. Why was I so vulnerable to another man when I loved my husband? As I thought back over my relationships
with Del and with Johnny, several issues came clearly to mind.
1. Johnny gave me the gift of time. I felt lonesome for companionship. Del worked long hours and revolving shifts. When home, he busied himself
with his hobbies and interests. I longed for someone to pay attention to me. I wanted to feel important, needed and valued. Johnny affirmed me as a person of worth by investing himself in me. Del found time for me only in our
bedroom. Loneliness left me vulnerable to anyone willing to shower me with attention.
2. Johnny talked to me and, more important, he listened. When Johnny dropped by, he focused on me, not the TV, newspaper or
mail. He shared the little things in his life and later revealed some of his hopes and dreams for the future.
We became good friends. Conversation flowed freely. He listened when I talked, even asking questions. He laughed at my
stupid jokes, believed in my dreams, and encouraged me to talk for hours. Johnny valued me as a human being, cared about my opinions and respected my intelligence. Conversation for Del and I dried up within our first year of
marriage.
3. Johnny told me things a woman likes and needs to hear. He often complimented my cooking, my outfit, or my thoughts on an issue. That night, he spoke the words I longed to hear Del say--that he
needed and wanted me. I, a neglected housewife, felt irresistible for the first time in several years. The problem was the wrong man evoked these feelings.
4. Johnny's thoughtful considerations shined through all of his interactions with me. The little things matter most. Just as one tiny straw broke the camel's back, the tiny concerns shown in daily living carry the most weight.
Johnny looked at me when we talked, walked beside me instead of leaving me eating his dust, and cared when I felt upset or down.
5. Johnny treated me with a tender reverence. He kissed me with an awe that Del
long ago lost. He showed me respect and treasured me. His actions reflected how much I mattered to him.
As all women through the ages, I yearned to be attractive to, and desired by, my husband; instead I felt unimportant, lonely
and vulnerable. I had not planned or sought after anyone else, but the possibility landed in my lap. In my weakness, I found the temptation almost more than I could bear.
That night when Del returned home, he found me in a
sobbing heap on our bed. "Honey, what's wrong?" His voice sounded frightened. He sat beside me brushing my hair back out of my face. "Are you hurt? Did someone die?"
I shook my head, trying to talk between
the sobbing and sniffing. I poured out the whole story, confessing my guilt and shame. "Can you ever forgive me?"
To my surprise, Del gathered me in his arms and we cried together. "I know I'm partly to
blame," he said. Realizing what we almost lost, it brought a new value to our marriage.
Johnny never visited our home again. Losing him as a friend was worth the price of salvaging our marriage, and the renewed relationship
with Del is now my most treasured friendship. NM
