There are an ever increasing number of blogs about the use of Game in marriage and other long-term relationships. This is a good thing.
At some point, they all touch on the topic of temptation, because it’s eventually going to happen to any man working the Plan. You’ve gotten physically fit, you’ve improved your appearance, you’ve increased your self-confidence. One day, in the midst of an innocent flirtation, you realize the possibilities. “If I just escalate here, I could easily get this woman in bed.”
If you have ever taken a self-defense class, you know the importance of drills. You have to imagine yourself in a difficult situation, and practice your response until it becomes a reflex. When a bad guy attacks you in a parking lot at night, you don’t have time to look up what to do in the textbook. You have to have drilled enough to respond instantly, without thought. You have to practice until you develop the right reflexes.
I’m self-aware enough to know that if I suddenly found myself in a situation that could easily lead to sex, my first instinct might be to do something that I would later regret. So I contemplate the possibilities, and rehearse my responses.
An important part of my preparation for the inevitable temptation is simply to Know Who I Am.
I am a tall, attractive, intelligent, spiritual, happily-married man. And, quite frankly, my sexuality is too valuable to be shared with the sort of woman who would knowingly bed a married man. (Yes, I know… shades of Grouch Marx. “I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.”)
I haven’t always been this way. As my previous marriage was going down in flames, I slept with a lot of women. Most of them were married, too. A large part of my motivation was seeking validation. My self-esteem was shot, and I needed them to prove to me that I was still attractive.
In spite of my comment about “the sort of woman who would knowingly bed a married man,” I don’t look down on any of the women I slept with during my first marriage. In fact, I am now married to one of them. (I’ve changed a lot since I met her, and she has, too. We aren’t the same people we were then.) I don’t look down on them, and I don’t look down on myself for sleeping with them, either. As my spiritual advisor/guitar teacher says, “We all do the best we can with what we have at the time.”
But I’m better now. I can recognize my own self-worth. I don’t need a woman, or a string of women, to validate me. I know who I am, and I’m too valuable to waste on casual flings.