Marcy: a middle-aged social worker, with a history
of relationship
infidelity
From Shadows of the Net
by Patrick Carnes, 2001
I had been married thirteen years-and unfaithful the whole time. In fact, when I married, I was actually having an affair with one of the groomsmen in my wedding party. My husband never had a clue about what was going on. Finally, I started going to counseling, as my behavior began to bother me. Very soon into therapy, my therapist told me, "I think you have a problem with sex addiction." My response, however, was that the real problem was a "problematic marriage."
At this time, I discovered the Internet-more specifically, chat rooms. My husband regularly went to bed around 9:30 or 10:00 P.M. That's when I would get on the computer and head straight into one of my favorite chat rooms, where I would converse with various men. These "chats" became increasingly sexual and seductive, and eventually I was staying up very late, until three or four in the morning. I realized that my Internet use was getting out of hand, and each night I promised myself that I'd be in bed by eleven. But I just couldn't meet that goal. Despite my efforts at control, I became even more infatuated with my online life. The conversations became more and more sexual and tantalizing. Eventually, I became more and more daring. I began giving out my phone number to men I'd met online. They would call me and then together we would have phone sex. All the while, my husband was asleep in an adjacent room.
Finally, I encountered a guy who seemed irresistible, and crossing yet another boundary, I arranged an in-person meeting for sex with a guy who lived in Dallas. We agreed to meet at a Dallas hotel. We had sex, and then I was attacked, beaten unconscious, and left for dead. I awoke days later in a hospital with no clue as to where I was, how I'd gotten there, or how much time had passed. The hospital staff had no way to identify me, since my purse had been stolen along with all my identification and money. And my husband? He knew nothing about what had happened. Since I was not at the hotel I claimed to be staying at, he was frantic with worry and had called the police to file a missing persons report.
When I was finally able to use a phone at the hospital, my first call was to my therapist. I said, "OK, you're right. I have a problem. I need help."
