There are some blog posts you write because you have something clever to say.

And then there are the ones you write because you can’t not write them.

This is the second kind.

This article is longer than the others in this series on purpose. It needs space. It needs room to breathe. It needs honesty that doesn’t fit neatly into a few tidy paragraphs. If you are still reading, I ask for your patience and your gentleness with yourself and with me. This is a sensitive piece. It is written with hope, but it is not written lightly.

What follows is my attempt to explain something I wish I had understood decades ago. Something I believe could save a lot of heartache, confusion, and quiet regret if it were better understood.

It is about intimacy. And more specifically, about the cost of skipping steps.

The image at the top of this article shows what is often called the intimacy triangle. It outlines six levels of intimacy that are meant to build upon one another:​

At the base of the triangle are safety and courage. Without them, nothing above holds. At the sides are two reminders: safety must increase as you move upward, and both people must be courageous and merciful as intimacy deepens.

The order matters.

Not because someone said so. Not because of rules for rules’ sake. But because each level creates the conditions necessary for the next to be healthy instead of hollow.

When levels are skipped, something doesn’t just go missing.

Something gets distorted.

When I was at Rick’s College in 1997, there were two guys on campus that people talked about.

They were known, half-jokingly, as “virgin lips.”

They had never kissed a girl.

Not out of fear.
Not because they couldn’t.
But because they had made a decision.

They didn’t do doorstep scenes when they took a girl out. They didn’t linger. They didn’t blur lines. They had committed to not kissing anyone until it was the woman they were going to marry.

At first, I thought that was… strange.

Then I thought it was interesting.

And eventually, I realized it was powerful.

So I made a commitment of my own.

I decided to be, as I thought of it, a “born-again virgin lips.” I committed to not kissing anyone until it was the last person I would ever kiss.

That commitment mattered to me. It was private, personal, and deeply sincere.

​And then life tested it.

While my wife and I were dating, she wrote me a letter.

In it, she asked me to kiss her.

I didn’t tell her about the commitment I had made.

I should have.

That silence matters more now than I understood then.

I made a decision in that moment. I chose to kiss her, and I chose for her to be the last person I ever kissed.

But I skipped something.

I skipped explaining my values.
I skipped sharing the meaning behind my restraint.
I skipped the deeper conversations that should have happened before the physical expression.

I jumped levels.​

Looking back, I see it clearly now.

I bypassed psychological intimacy.
I bypassed spiritual intimacy.

Those levels require vulnerability that is slower, quieter, and harder to fake.

​Psychological intimacy is where you integrate lives instead of just feelings. It’s where values, fears, plans, and identities are shared and blended thoughtfully. It’s where you say things like:

“This is who I am.”

“This is what I’ve committed to.”

“This is why it matters.”            

Spiritual intimacy goes even deeper. It’s where you seek God together. Where you share revelation, prayer, belief, doubt, and sacred intention. Where you ask not just what do we want, but what does the Lord want of us.

Those layers were not developed the way they needed to be.

Instead, we went straight to physical intimacy.

And physical intimacy is powerful. It bonds. It accelerates. It convinces you that closeness exists even when the foundations underneath are incomplete.

When that happens, the triangle looks intact from the outside.

But inside, it’s hollow.

I believe now that skipping those levels hijacked the development of everything that should have supported physical intimacy.

Emotional intimacy didn’t have the container it needed.
Psychological alignment wasn’t strong enough to carry future stress.
Spiritual unity was assumed instead of built.

That doesn’t mean everything was bad.
It doesn’t mean there wasn’t love.

It means the structure was compromised.

And over time, cracks appear.

​Sometimes decades later.

A few days ago, while doing sealings in the temple, I was reminded of that long-ago commitment.

Not once.
Not subtly.
But over and over again.

The Lord has a way of doing that.

I don’t know what He has in mind for me.

I do know this: the commitment mattered then, and it still matters now.

I intend to keep it.

I don’t know what that means for my future. I don’t know what relationships may or may not come. I carry a very real fear that I will die sad and alone.

That fear is honest.

​But it is not the same thing as hopelessness.

My wife and I are getting a divorce.

I don’t say that lightly.

I don’t say it with blame.

I say it with grief.

The pretrial conference is this Friday. I am not looking forward to it. There is no version of this that feels clean or easy or righteous.

But I am prepared to keep my commitments.

Even now.

​Especially now.

I am writing this for the people who are dating.

For the people who feel pressure to move faster than their souls can keep up with.

For the ones who confuse chemistry with compatibility.

For those who think physical closeness will somehow create emotional or spiritual alignment instead of revealing the lack of it.

I am writing this so you don’t skip steps.

Because when you do, you don’t just move faster.

You lose something.

And sometimes you don’t realize what it cost until years later.

Healthy intimacy starts with verbal intimacy. Talking. Sharing daily life. Observing whether safety exists.

It moves into cognitive intimacy. Ideas, plans, hopes, dreams, without merging them yet.

Then emotional intimacy. Sharing feelings, past experiences, boundaries.

Then psychological intimacy. Integrating lives thoughtfully. Aligning values. Making commitments explicit.

Then spiritual intimacy. Seeking God together. Sharing revelation. Submitting the relationship to something higher than desire.

Only then does physical intimacy become what it was always meant to be.

Not a shortcut.

But a crown.

I don’t know what the Lord has in mind for me.

What I do know is that I did not understand this intimacy triangle for most of my life. I did not have language for it. I did not have a framework for it. I made commitments with sincerity, but without understanding how deeply intimacy needs to be built layer by layer.

A few years ago, that began to change. Several months ago, I signed up for the Lazarus Lectures through Life Changing Services. During the very first lecture, something clicked. I remember feeling so energized and hopeful that I went home immediately to work on the homework. I wasn’t trying to be clever. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I was genuinely excited about the idea of resurrection applied to marriage.

Maurice Harker, the author of the Lazarus Lectures, later accused me of using AI to develop my vision of what a resurrected marriage could look like. I did not. What I wrote came from prayer, reflection, and hope, and lots of it. I believe in miracles. If Jesus Christ could bring Lazarus back from the dead, and it is my testimony that He did, then He can breathe new life into a broken man and even into a broken marriage.

I do not know if that is His will in my case. It is very clear that this is not what my dear wife wants right now. And so I wait on the Lord.

It will take a commandment from God to change my mind about my next kiss. After what I experienced in the temple this week, I sincerely doubt He has any plans for me to kiss or be kissed again in this life. If that is so, I will accept it. I will wait on the Lord.

But I know what He has reminded me of.

Commitments matter.

Truth spoken late is still better than truth never spoken.

And it is never too late to stop skipping steps.

If this article helps even one person slow down, speak honestly, and build intimacy in the right order, then it has done what it was meant to do.

That is my hope.

And for now, that is enough.



Create A Celestial Day.

​
​Scott Alan Westhoff