How Adultery Happens: An Integrated Psychological Perspective
Recently, a video surfaced online that took the country by storm: Andy Byron, the now-former CEO of Astronomer, caught on camera at a Coldplay concert with a woman who wasn’t his wife—the company’s head of HR. Within hours, it went viral. Within days, he had resigned. And almost immediately, the court of public opinion came flooding in: judgment, speculation, gossip, and outrage.
But beneath the spectacle of it all is a deeper human question that often goes unasked:
How does a man get here?
Not in the tabloid sense—but in the human, psychological, and spiritual sense. A man with a wife, children, a career, a platform. A man who, presumably, once made vows. A man who never imagined this would be his story.
This article is not about condemnation. It’s not about excusing the behavior either. It’s an attempt to explore how adultery actually happens—what forces are at play beneath the surface—and to offer a warning, a framework, and perhaps even a bit of hope.
We’ll focus on the male perspective here—not because infidelity is exclusive to men, but because this particular case involved a man, and because the male psychological and spiritual terrain often goes underexamined.
But know also that we should hold in our mind the emotional devastation caused by infidelity, amplified in this case by public shaming. The poor family members affected by this will live relative to this moment for a long time, maybe for the rest of their lives. The hope that we must have for them is that God’s grace will guide them into deeper communion.
Let’s look at four integrated causes that can lead to this kind of fall.
1. Who You Follow Matters
As St. Augustine once wrote,
“What am I to myself without You, O Lord, but a guide to my own downfall?”
We like to imagine that freedom means following our hearts, trusting our intuition, making our own path. But Scripture and tradition suggest otherwise. Left to ourselves—without a standard beyond ourselves—we don’t walk into freedom. We drift toward destruction.
That’s why Pope Benedict XVI spent so much of his ministry warning against relativism. In his words:
“We are building a dictatorship of relativism that does not recognize anything as definitive and whose ultimate goal consists solely of one’s own ego and desires… A mature adult faith is deeply rooted in friendship with Christ.”
So many modern mantras—“follow your truth,” “live your best life,” “you do you”—seem empowering. But they often untether us from objective good, from accountability, from grace.
If we want to remain grounded, we have to choose carefully who and what we follow. The only reliable compass is Christ. Apart from Him, we risk becoming the very architects of our own downfall.
2. The Corrupting Isolation of Power
This wasn’t just an affair. It was an affair between a CEO and his subordinate.
That’s not just a breach of fidelity—it’s a misuse of power.
Power is morally neutral, but spiritually dangerous. It expands a man’s reach while also increasing his vulnerability to self-deception. It isolates. It tempts. It slowly shifts the question from, “What’s right?” to “What can I get away with?”
For a time, the thrill of power is exhilarating. It can be an antidote to the anxiety that many of us feel when we’re not in control. But in the absence of accountability and a spirit of service, power folds inward. And once it does, destruction is always around the corner.
Christ shows us what redeemed power looks like. He kneels to wash feet. He leads by sacrifice. He pours Himself out, never for personal gain, but for the flourishing of others. That’s the model—not self-indulgence, not domination, but love rooted in service.
When in doubt, imitate the God who became small.
3. Friendship: The Missing Safeguard
Where were his friends?
Not followers. Not fans. Not professional allies.
Real friends—the kind who know your soul and call it back when it strays. The kind who ask hard questions, speak inconvenient truths, and intervene when you start drifting toward the edge.
Every man needs one.
Friendship isn’t optional for men. It’s a safeguard. A mirror. A resistance to isolation. Without it, even the most disciplined man becomes vulnerable to temptation, deception, and collapse.
If you have friends like this, thank God and lean into them. If you don’t, ask Him to send you some. Because the absence of friendship is often the silent accomplice to moral failure.
4. Pain Buried, Longing Misplaced
Affairs don’t typically begin in the body. They begin in the heart.
In most cases, there’s an ache beneath the surface. A wound. A part of the man that he’s never felt safe to reveal to his wife—or to anyone. Maybe he once tried and was met with rejection. Maybe he never dared. But over time, that part of himself is exiled. Hidden.
Then, someone else enters the picture.
And in that person’s presence, he feels seen. Accepted. Wanted.
That experience—the feeling of being known—is good in itself. Holy even. But pursued outside the covenant of marriage, it becomes destructive. What began as a longing to be known turns into betrayal. What seemed like a path to healing becomes a detour into pain.
The solution is not to shame the longing but to tend to the wound. To bring it to the surface. To let it be known—first by God, then in safe, healing relationship. Because what remains buried eventually finds a way to the surface, often in the most damaging forms.
True interior conversion within the safeguards of the sacrament allows spouses to share even the most vulnerable part of themselves with one another, precluding the need to look outside the marriage. Frightening as this may be at times, going deeper together is possible and profoundly rewarding.
The Butterfly Effect of Sin—and the Greater Power of Grace
Sin is never contained.
It ripples. It touches people you never intended to hurt. One decision in a private suite at a concert may leave a scar on a marriage, a family, a company, and a legacy.
But the story doesn’t have to end there.
Where sin abounds, grace abounds more. The good that He can draw from evil resounds through our lives into eternity. The Cross assures us that even in the depths of failure, God can still bring life. Redemption is possible—but only if we’re willing to invite Him in. To let the truth surface. To let our hearts be reformed. And for those of us watching from the outside: this is a call not to gossip, but to vigilance. To prayer. To healing. To humility.
Because if we’re honest, no man is above this. And every man needs help to avoid it.
“Because the absence of friendship is often the silent accomplice to moral failure.”
Powerful. Thanks Dr. Bryan.