Seven years ago, when I was 29, I came into SA after crossing one of my boundaries: I had an affair with a married coworker. It wasn’t the affair that made me realize I had a problem, however, but the fact that my affair partner wanted to become emotionally attached and I wasn’t interested. I thought, “Something’s wrong with me.”

Dating for me was mostly about trying to get attention, and not necessarily sexual attention. My parents separated when I was five and were divorced by the time I was seven. I never felt any emotional closeness with them. To fill the gap, I sought attention from men.

As I began my SA recovery, I also worked with a therapist. One day, after I had been in SA a few months, the therapist said to me, “You need to have no contact with men. You need to dry out.” I said, “I’ll die without some kind of relationship!” She just smiled.

The therapist (in conjunction with my sponsor) gave me strict guidelines: No contact at all with men. No phone calls, no emails, no talking one-on-one—whether at work, church, or any social setting. I couldn’t sit next to a guy at church or in a restaurant. All contacts with men (other than relatives) had to be in a group setting. That was extremely difficult for me, because so much of my addiction was about the emotional connection. But until I dried out, I was of no use to anyone.

After six months, I began noticing that my life seemed pretty good without guys. I had friends and interests, and I was available for new activities. Before, I had always put everything on hold for my addiction, including family, friends, and responsibilities.

After another six months, the therapist announced one day, “It’s time to start dating again.” I argued that it was too soon and that I had begun liking my life without men. But she insisted that I needed to date. Within three days of that session, guys started coming out of the woodwork. I didn’t know what to do.

Today I know that the one-year period of physical and emotional drying out was the key for my being able to date soberly. I learned to see men as human beings, mainly by attending the mixed meetings in my area. As I listened to the men share about themselves, I could see that they are human, just like me. We are all just human beings travelling together on this recovery journey. By interacting with those guys, I learned to form relationships with men based on friendship and respect rather than on lust and scheming.

My first dating experience did not go well, because the guy did not respect my boundaries. The second relationship was a breakthrough for me. For the first time in my life, I was able to truly love a man for who he was—I think because we were both past the superficial idea that we needed to have sex in order to make a connection. That was a gift of SA. I had the tools to say, “For me, sex does not equal love. I don’t need sex to have an intimate and emotional relationship with you.”

This guy was also on a recovery journey and respected the fact that I had boundaries. I had never experienced that respect before. From SA, I learned to respect myself. I believe that is the key in attracting others who will treat me with respect.

That relationship also ended. The breakup was painful for me, but I learned that feeling pain is part of my recovery. My addiction had always sought to cover my pain. Now, for the first time, I was able to be conscious and present and know real pain. With help from my sponsor and other SA members, I was able to work through the pain, grieve the loss, and move on.

Four years ago on New Year’s Eve, my life changed. I was supposed to attend a party, but I had just flown in that morning from a horrible vacation and did not want to go. Then I thought, “If I just get ready and go, I’ll have a good time.” So I got dressed and went—and much to my surprise, I met the man who would become my husband that night. We spent most of the night dancing and talking.

He proposed to me after we had dated for about six months. We were married a year later. Today, we’ve been married for three years.

One of the great things about the relationship was that I was able to tell my husband my boundaries up front, and he accepted and respected them. It was important that I could be open and honest about my issues. This does not mean that the first time I met my husband, I told him my whole story. To this day, he still does not know the whole story. But he knew enough to understand why I set the boundaries I did, and he could understand why SA was my number one priority.

During the 18 months that we dated, we faced challenges with physical boundaries at times. Sometimes I needed to step back and say, “I need to limit my contact with you. I can only see you once a week,” or “I cannot talk to you or email you today. I can see you tomorrow.” I had to be purposeful about these things because so much of my powerlessness was about the emotional high. I could not allow myself to get sucked back into a position where my life was solely and only about one guy. I was rigorous about attending meetings, making phone calls, meeting with sponsees, and continuing other service work, because when I did those things I wasn’t entirely focused on the guy or the relationship.

I don’t think it’s possible for an SA member to date soberly without rigorous honesty. Unless I am rigorously honest and working my program and making sure that it remains the most important thing in my life, I will lose, and I will not be in a position to date soberly.

I’m grateful that I was in SA and was sober and working my way toward health before I went down the path of dating. I believe that the SA recovery process gave us a solid foundation for marriage, and makes my husband and me both better spouses. I know that God has different paths for each of us—but my prayer is that my experience, strength, and hope regarding dating might be of help for those who are on the same journey.