When I first came to SA, I was one of those people who wanted to control and enjoy my lust, but not stop lusting altogether. I wanted to work my own program. I thought I was smarter than the other members and smarter than my therapist. For the first year I would be sober for a week, two weeks, or a month at most. Then I’d relapse, and I’d share in a meeting, “Oh I had a slip,” as if it were no big deal. I never felt bad about the slips, and they never seemed to affect my ability to function the next day (in my opinion anyway). So I kept up this vicious cycle.

I often asked myself what it would take for me to stay sober. I thought that perhaps if I had negative consequences for my actions I would stay sober. So I told my wife about everything: the girls, the massage parlors, and the girlfriend. She was quite upset and told me that if this ever happened again, we would be finished. I thought that would keep me sober, but it didn’t. I slipped again and went back to my girlfriend, but more carefully this time, never using the credit card and erasing all e-mails—and slipping, actually falling.

My girlfriend moved to another state, so I figured it was safe to speak to her every day now. The idea of her not being in New York was comforting. I thought it would help me maintain my sobriety. But talking to her was a form of acting out. I kept the relationship hidden from my wife, my sponsor, and my therapist. That way, if my wife ever threw me out, I would have a place to go. The lies continued. I was technically sober, but the technicality was destroying my family. I could not possibly be a good father, husband, or even friend to anyone when my thoughts were consumed with a woman who was not my wife.

I heard that she was dating someone, and the addict in me reacted immediately. I flew her in and put her up in a hotel room, and we acted out. Afterward she said it was our last hurrah; we would never be sexual again—so I could reset my clock, maintain my sobriety, and still be her friend. Now the addict was taking advice from his girlfriend! I continued to lie to my wife, sponsor, and therapist. In meetings I shared that I must reset my clock, but never mentioned that I was having an affair in a long-term relationship.

I was getting deeper into the friendship with this woman. I would tell myself that as long as I was sober, no one was being hurt and everyone should be happy. The problem was that I was not happy; I was actually miserable.

Months later we were still talking. She would tell me about her boyfriend. I became her confidant. We discussed their every date and every argument. Then one day she told me that her boyfriend had broken up with her and she needed to come to New York to see me. My ego exploded. I was 43 years old; she was 28 and her boyfriend 27—and she wanted me! How could I say no? This was Sunday and she booked a flight for Monday. Mondays are tough because I have therapy Monday mornings, so I would have to lie to my therapist. But it would be worth it in the end.

But something happened to me during therapy that morning that I cannot explain: I realized that sobriety is the answer for me and that I really must stop. I was going crazy and could no longer handle it. I needed to get off the roller coaster, but I had no idea what to do. Her plane would land in two hours. I prayed to God for help and sent her a text message, saying that my family is the most important thing in the world to me, and that I could not see her. When she landed, she called, asking if I was joking. I assured her it was not a joke, and I left her stranded at the airport. My life changed for the better that day—October 30, 2006—the day that today I count as my sobriety date.

Today I recognize the huge need to stop lusting rather than enjoy and control lust. My life had been filled with brothels, massage parlors, cross dressing, same-sex acting out, and voyeurism. I’ve been through it all. But my focus today is on the long-term affair that many of us have experienced, and on how the decision to stop the affair made my life so much better and actually worth living.

I was married by age 20, but marriage never stopped me from acting out. I went to massage parlors and hookers on business trips. I always found ways to act out. I realize now that in all those women I was seeking a person who would love me unconditionally, whether I was rich or poor, smart or stupid, funny or sad. They smiled and told me I was the best. That was all I needed to hear. The problem was that I could not feel connected to these women because of what they did for a living.

All that changed when I met my girlfriend. I met her at a massage parlor, but I believed that she was not like the others because she seemed to care about me. I went back to that location three times a week just to spend an hour with her. We became close and I invited her to go on a trip to Vegas with me. She agreed—and after seeing her professionally for a year, I finally learned her real name. Imagine that the woman I thought of as my one true love had never told me her real name!

We traveled to Vegas but she would not have intercourse with me because I was married. That only made her more attractive to me. Something in me snapped. All I could think about was this woman. No work got done, no family obligations were met, I became mean and disgusting to my wife, and I continued to carry on with this woman. I wanted her out of the massage business, so I began to pay her bills. I got her an apartment in New York City and even paid her cosmetic dentist bills. Six months later, we started having intercourse and began to profess our love for each other. I lied to my wife and told her that work was so tough I needed to stay in the city overnight. I took my girlfriend on trips to Vegas, Connecticut, Atlantic City, California, New Orleans, and even to Europe.

The double life I was leading was killing me. I felt like crap putting on my tefillin (praying) in the morning. I had no relationship with my kids. I had no idea when their birthdays were, what grades they were in, who their teachers were, or whether they were good students. I didn’t know them. But if you wanted to know my girlfriend’s favorite food, how she took her coffee, or what she wore each day, I knew that all too well.

My wife and I fought about everything. We fought in front of the kids. We were never civil to each other. I tried to make my wife more like my girlfriend. I asked her to do things in bed that she refused to do, and to hang out in bars with me. My wife is a religious girl and was not comfortable in a bar, but all I wanted to do was to get her to be more like my girlfriend. Today I thank God that she would not.

I was deeply depressed when I was home. I felt sick and disgusted with myself and had many suicidal thoughts. Yet when I was with my girlfriend I was always happy and charming—and most of the time drunk, from both lust and alcohol. But when I asked her if I should leave my wife, she answered that she could not be a home wrecker. That only brought me closer to her. Imagine the insanity: she did not want to be a home wrecker, yet she had no problem acting out with me or having me support her. The addict in me could not hear or see the truth.

One day out of the blue, my wife asked if I was having an affair. I said “No way!” and “How dare you ask such a thing?” I had a way of making her feel guilty. But she said that if I was not having an affair but was so depressed, perhaps I should see a psychiatrist. Perhaps I needed some meds to pick me up. I told her that maybe I did need to see someone, but that I would go to a therapist, not an MD.

I decided to go to a Jewish, religious therapist thinking that only he would understand my lifestyle. I figured that I would lay out my story so well that he would tell me to leave my wife and be with my girlfriend. But after two hours of talking, he told me I was a sex addict and needed to go to rehab. I thought he was kidding. How could anyone be addicted to sex? Isn’t sex a good thing? But he said that’s what I was and that I should go to an SA meeting. He explained that SA is a fellowship of men and women who are sex addicts and want to get better. So then I asked for the meeting location, because now I wanted to go. I wanted to meet female sex addicts. How great would that be—a place to meet women who cannot control themselves sexually! But I walked into my first meeting and only met a bunch of guys. Boy, was I disappointed.

It took a long time for me to get sober. I slowly revealed to my wife that I was in SA, that I had a problem with chronic masturbation, that I “may” have a problem with massage parlors, that I “may” have visited a prostitute, and finally that I was having a long-term affair. She asked, “You don’t know whether you went to massage parlors or prostitutes?” The addict in me could not be fully honest with my wife. I thought saying “may” would soften the blow.

With each revelation I thought it would be easier to stay sober, but that was not the case. The angrier she got, the more I wanted to act out. I realize now that my wife was my biggest trigger. I could pass an attractive woman on the street and not look twice, but if my wife was upset with me all I wanted to do was act out.

“Get sober or die.” I had heard this at meetings but never believed it. Actual death? How could that be? For me today, it’s “Get sober or die spiritually.” Today I can say that because I have experienced the joys of sobriety.

A husband and wife will naturally have good times and bad times. But a man and his mistress have only good times. It’s a drug. It feels great to be high, but the high isn’t real. That’s why it’s so addictive. I’ve experienced both types of relationships and today I like reality much better. The difficult part of sobriety is that you start to feel real feelings—the way life is supposed to feel.

Once, when I was in a hotel room acting out with my girlfriend, my wife called, telling me my friend’s son was diagnosed with cancer. I couldn’t care less. “Oh well, say some psalms (tehilim) and move on.” The boy was 17—the same age as my son at the time—and I didn’t care if he lived or died. All I wanted to do was get back to acting out. I cannot be a caring human being unless I am sober.

My wife and I still fight at times, but we have not raised our voices to each other since I got sober. We deal with the issues of kids, finances, in-laws, vacation, and schooling together. I finally got to know my kids. That has been a big plus in sobriety.

When I was drunk with lust, spending time with kids was a hassle. I would take my son to little league games and walk away from the game to talk to my girlfriend. I would put her on hold when he was at bat, thinking I was being a good father. Now I go with him to watch his hockey games. I love every minute of it, and he loves that I’m there. We get along well now. I have the time and patience to sit and go over his homework with him. In the past, I would just do the homework for him. He loved it because he didn’t have to do it himself. I loved it because I didn’t need to spend time with him. Now, I love sitting with him and going over the homework. I don’t give him the answers today. It’s more fun to work together and watch him think it out.

Life today is so much better. The best thing I did for myself was to leave my girlfriend stranded at the airport. She has not contacted me since, and I pray she won’t. But today I would be able to deal with it; I’d make a call or talk it out with my home group.

Today, I know that there is no such thing as a “harmless affair.” They are all harmful, not just to a spouse or children but to the addict. My acting out caused much pain in my household. My oldest son became a sex addict as well. He’s in recovery now, but I could not help him until I got sober. Had I done what I wanted to do when I first met with the therapist—leave my wife, my family, and my religion, and just be with the girlfriend—I believe my son might be dead today. He might have killed himself from the shame he was living with. But God had other plans. First he got me better, and then he got my son better.

There is hope in these rooms. It takes a long time for some of us, but keep coming back. Sobriety is the most precious gift I have ever given myself. I want to make sure no one ever takes it from me. That’s why I keep coming back.