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No one suspected I had a secret addiction. After all, I was a respected elder's wife and head of a women's Bible study. My substance of choice was tucked away in closets and under my bed. My "drug" was legal and easily available—in thrift shops, bookstores, and libraries.
I was a romance novel addict.
Getting Hot in HereMy habit evolved slowly. Amid the usual traumas of adolescence, I knew I could turn to my mom, but my heart cried out for my dad, who always seemed uncomfortable in my presence. Books became my escape. It wasn't until I was in my 20s—married and just past our kids' all-consuming toddler years—that I turned to more amorous selections.
A neighbor gave me my first romance novel. I'll never forget it. The book featured a medieval setting with a knight and a spirited damsel in distress. Unlike the innocuous paperbacks I'd read as a child, where the hero kissed the heroine around page 60 and the two became engaged by the end of the book, this one included the steamiest love scenes I'd ever read. I was captivated. I devoured everything I could find by that author, and went on to others, ignoring any uneasiness I sensed.
Romance novels fall into three categories, based on sexual content. The most innocent romances are sweet, stressing courtship rather than sex. Following those are spicy/sensual and erotica. I never ventured into the latter category, but sampled enough of the second to know which authors wrote the kinds of love stories I enjoyed.
I began reading romance novels several hours a day. In the evenings once our kids went to bed, my husband headed for the family room to watch ESPN while I tucked myself under an afghan to devour my latest steamy selection. We'd eventually meet in our bedroom, and since I'd just spent an hour or two cuddled up with a romance, more often than not I was in an amorous mood.
Moved by a Different BookTwo Scripture passages began to haunt me. One was Jesus' command in Mark 12:30 to "love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength." Reading an exposition of that verse, I came across the idea of loving God with all your imagination. In the past I'd lie in bed thinking of God and his handiwork, praying for friends and family members as I drifted off to sleep. Now my mind dwelled on the various courtships of my frivolous reading. If I'd completed a book, I'd speculate on the characters' future, or make up alternate endings. And sometimes, I was too turned on to fall asleep easily.
The other passage that struck me was 1 Corinthians 10:23. "'Everything is permissible,'" the apostle Paul wrote, quoting perhaps a Corinthian slogan, "but not everything is beneficial. 'Everything is permissible'—but not everything is constructive." The question became, Is reading steamy romances constructive?
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