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Proverbs 5:3–5 “For the lips of the adulterous woman drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil; but in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a double-edged sword. Her feet go down to death; her steps lead straight to the grave.” 

Think

Infatuation is a master illusionist. It dresses up fantasy like reality, and it does it so well you hardly notice the shift. What started as a moment of curiosity becomes a full-blown mental movie. Suddenly, someone else’s words sound sweeter, their presence seems safer, their interest makes you feel alive. And it feels innocent, even justified. But infatuation is a liar. It doesn’t show you the aftermath. It doesn’t tell you the cost. It doesn’t care what it ruins. Infatuation makes a big promise it can’t keep.

It thrives on idealizing someone. You start believing they understand you better than your spouse. You imagine how good life would be with them. They become the solution to your stress, your boredom, or your loneliness. You stop seeing the flaws, and you inflate their strengths. You start rewriting the story in your head, like a trailer for a romantic film you desperately want to watch. But trailers always leave out the messy parts. They never show the arguments, the baggage, or the regret. And that’s exactly how infatuation works. It’s carefully edited. It skips the hard scenes. It feels like love, but it’s rooted in illusion.

Maybe you’ve felt it. The rush when they walk in the room. The thrill of a message that shouldn’t mean that much but somehow does. The way your heart reacts when your phone lights up. You’re drawn to the attention, the validation. You start sharing thoughts you haven’t shared with your spouse in weeks. You start rearranging your schedule just to be near them. It feels like connection, but it’s really escape.

Infatuation is powerful because it’s emotional. It activates longing. It awakens dormant places in your heart. But feelings make terrible guides. They’ll tell you something is right just because it feels good. They’ll tell you to follow your heart, even when your heart is drifting into someone else’s arms. And the lie gets louder: “This is what I’ve been missing.” “They understand me.” “This is meant to be.” But deep down, you know better.

You know it’s not real love if it requires secrecy. You know it’s not godly if it needs to hide. You know it’s not right if it leads you to consider breaking your vows.

Proverbs 5 warns us with poetic clarity. At first, the forbidden woman’s lips “drip honey.” Her words are smooth, flattering, attractive. But the end is bitter. Sharp. Deadly. What looks like honey becomes poison. What feels like rescue becomes ruin. Infatuation may excite you for a moment, but it cannot sustain you. You weren’t created to live in fantasy. You were created for covenant.

Here’s something infatuation never tells you: every person is human. Every relationship takes work. If you run from your marriage into the arms of another, you’re not escaping hard things—you’re just trading them for different hard things. And often, those new problems come with deeper pain, heavier guilt, and more long-term regret.

Marriage, even when it’s hard, is sacred ground. And faithfulness isn’t about staying only when it’s easy. It’s about choosing to love someone when it’s costly. Choosing to fight for what’s real instead of chasing what’s edited. Choosing to press into God’s grace rather than chase someone else’s attention.

And it’s not just married people who face this battle. If you’re single, infatuation can still pull you into compromise. It can lead to sexual sin, emotional entanglements, or patterns of comparison and discontent. You begin believing that until you find someone who makes you feel the way this person does, your life is missing something. But that craving won’t be filled by a perfect partner. It can only be satisfied by a perfect Savior.

The truth is, no human was meant to carry the weight of your soul. That’s why when we idolize someone—even in thought—they eventually disappoint us. Infatuation will promise you escape, but all it ever delivers is disorientation. And here’s what’s even more dangerous: infatuation grows best in isolation. When you don’t bring it to the light, it thrives in your mind. The more you replay the fantasy, the more real it feels. But the longer you wait to confront it, the harder it is to let go.

That’s why the first step is honesty. Name it. Say it out loud to God. “I’m drawn to this person. I feel things I shouldn’t. I’ve let my mind go places that are not pure.” He already knows. And he isn’t waiting to punish you. He’s ready to rescue you. His grace is strong enough to break emotional attachments and heal wandering hearts.

You may also need to tell someone else. A trusted friend. A counselor. Your spouse, if appropriate. Bringing it into the light breaks the power of the lie. What was once romanticized starts to look warped in the full clarity of truth. Infatuation feels strong, but it doesn’t have to win.

God calls us back to reality. To his faithfulness. To truth that doesn’t fade when things get hard. And in doing so, he protects us from throwing away what’s lasting for something that never was.

Apply

Are you idealizing someone right now? Maybe it’s just in your mind. Maybe it’s becoming something more. Name it. Say it out loud to God. Then ask him to help you re-anchor your heart in what is real. If you’re married, do one thing today that invests in your actual relationship. If you’re single, bring your emotions under God’s leadership and ask him to help you live from fullness, not fantasy.

Pray

God, I confess that my heart is vulnerable to lies that feel true. I am capable of drifting. I’ve seen the power of infatuation and how it clouds my judgment. Bring me back to what is real. Root me in your love. Strengthen my heart to desire what is right. I want to be faithful in my thoughts as well as my actions. In Jesus’ name. Amen.