Dark Night of My Soul 

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       I remember it well. It was ten, no, eleven days after my 38th birthday and seven days after my last girlfriend dumped me. One had been glorious, the other heart-crushing. Let me explain. ​

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       For my 38th birthday, friends came from all over the United States and from in and around Mobile, Alabama, to celebrate with me. The past two years had been excellent. After 13 years of service, I left Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) employment on the advice of friends and mentors. I was in much better shape fiscally than if I had stayed at the University of Mobile. Many in the administration, including the President, were sacked, retired or accepted positions elsewhere within a couple years of my leaving, and conservatives took over. Fortunately, I missed all that drama. Instead, I made more than $50,000 a year for the first time in my life. At New York Life (NYL), my new employer, I was among the top rookie recruits nationally with fewer than 3 years of experience. All was looking bright. ​

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       But a few days later, Sheila, a woman from the church I had been dating on and off for some time, called and said, “I’m going to tell you something and I do not want you to interrupt me or say anything.” ​

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       This sounded serious. Sheila started by confessing that she loved me but said she knew I didn’t love her. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it’s painful! And I’m sure it’s a game. You don’t really want me, but you don’t want me to be with anyone else,” she declared. I started to defend myself, but she stopped me dead in my tracks. I could hear her fighting back tears even in the midst of her fury. She continued, “It is a game. You let me go and reel me back when you need me, then let me go again. I never want to see, talk to, or go out with you again.” ​

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       I asked if I could reply. “No.” She hung up. I called back. She didn’t answer. ​

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       It was a stinging rebuke in my ears and tears flooded my eyes, because I knew she was right. I had strung her along and didn’t want to get serious with her. But I never considered what it was doing to her. 

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     My dishonesty with myself had caused real harm to someone I loved as a friend. While I didn’t want to make love to her, it hadn’t been my intention to wound her either. I was asked if I was lying to myself or the women. The answer is I lied to myself and the women I dated. That is why it hurt them so much. 

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     That day, after 25 years of dating women, by my count nearly 300 (though some say this is an exaggeration), I decided I could not, in good conscience, date women anymore. It was not fair to THEM. 

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     With my cover gone, I pondered the next steps I might take to keep doing the “right thing.” But I was lonely. She had been the only phone call since the party. The partygoers had all gone back to their lives in places far and near. They had families, jobs, and other friends. I had nothing. I counted back the days since my last telephone conversation. Back then, we all had landlines at home with a red button that blinked when someone called but we didn’t pick up. My phone was not blink ing. Day 1: No Call. Day 2: No call. Day 3: Sheila called. Day 4: no body called. Day 5: nobody called and so it went until day 10. On the tenth day, I finally realized nobody was going to call. The one person who might have called did and told me she wanted nothing more to do with me ever again. 

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     To everybody else, while I was a friend, I wasn’t the center of their lives. My life had only me. Nobody called because nobody really knew me. That had been my strategy for a very long time. I thought it was the right thing to do. But, as Sheila pointed out, it wasn’t.