The past 2 weeks have been very difficult. My emotions seem to have covered the entire spectrum: anger, fear, betrayal, joy, contentment, longing, disgust, confusion, sorrow.

My girlfriend has an exit strategy. I cannot/will not discuss this. It is too dangerous. My fear and anger lie mostly with the cause of this: she has finally admitted to me that her husband has been physically abusive to her and her kids in the past. Now that she is finally deciding about what to do about her marriage, she is willing to let me know more of the painful details. I still don't get all of them. She is very careful to say that he's hit her "in the past". Sometimes, she puts her mask on and is downright chipper. Other times, she can't seem to hold it together for 2 minutes and I think I'm going to climb the walls from being unable to rescue her.

At first, I felt angry and betrayed by her on some level, for not giving me all these details before. I would never have slept with a man who can raise a hand to his wife or children. At least I like to think so. So how could she have kept that from me?

I think that all of this may be some cosmic lesson to re-examine my past and my memories of my parents. So that I can better see what my mother went through with my father, and forgive her.

Because despite that initial pang of anger and betrayal, I hold none of this against her. Because she and her kids are the ultimate victims here. I'm just a bystander who got swept up in J's toxic shitstorm.

It's always so easy to stand back and point fingers and question why a woman would stay. But that's just not productive or realistic or taking into account her emotions, needs, wants, fears. It is infinitely complicated. She is muddling through it. All I can do is stand aside and watch as she grabs for the muddy shoreline.

I am finally getting how hard this is for her, at least partially. How you can love someone, care about them, expect so much from them, depend on them, and in every way they fail you. And they turn on you. And they become a monster and hurt you. I am personally mourning the death of my fantasy of the 6 of us being a family. But K is mourning the death of her marriage and the family she's had for the past 8 years. She has lived with this so long and tried and tried and tried, only to finally realize no trying is going to change him.

I see him, or just think of him, and I want to give him pointers. Tell him what an idiot he is. How such small things could change everything. How such small things he does adds to her tension and distress until finally that's all their marriage is, a giant pile of shitty little things he does almost constantly. Because I think I see what she once saw. A potential for a man to overcome his past, to triumph over the shit he was dished as a kid, and become a *man*. A real man who has compassion and love and empathy and strength for his family, his wife, his community. And he spends 99.9% of his time pissing away every chance he has of reversing his life's fortune and realizing what an opportunity he has to correct life's mistake. To fix what was done to him by giving his children and wife better.

I have never understood the mentality of a parent who thinks that because they suffered as a child and survived, their child should suffer too. What kind of person thinks that way? Someone without empathy. The human equivalent of a monster: a sociopath, incapable of understanding other's emotions and feeling for them.

The strangest, hardest part for me in all of this is myself. Because as hard as it is to sit on my need to rescue K and let her do it herself, it is infinitely worse to realize the emotions that J still stirs in me.

I still have fantasies about him. And yesterday when I went up there to visit K, she convinced me to stay longer than I'd planned so we could watch a movie and have dinner with them. Well, actually, it started before he came home. Because all day, at the back of my mind, I was mournful that I wasn't going to see him. I kept having this bubble of hope intrude on my wonderful time with K, this hope that he would come home unexpectedly early. And then he came home in the middle of the movie like clockwork. And he looked pretty pissed that I was there. But instead of saying anything, he made himself useful and fixed the tv that had been acting up.

Later, after dinner, he walked into the kitchen where K and I were. I had been trying to avoid making eye contact with him all night, which had been pretty easy as he took dinner in the living room and we did in the kitchen. He looked right at me and I couldn't be rude, and I made eye contact. And I melted. He has the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes and lush lashes I have ever seen. And despite his lame comment, "Did you do something different with your hair?", I was totally gone on him yet again.

Later as K and I said our goodbyes in the bedroom so we could have a little kiss without being the live entertainment for her family, we got teary. I don't remember how it came up, but I think K was dissing on J. And I admitted that I have never longed for the love or approval of my father, as I've heard many abandoned children feel. But I long for that from J. When he's around, I feel like a flower following the sun around, waiting for some nourishment. In the middle of this, he came in to use the bathroom, then left us alone again, and I swear he was planting pheremones, because as soon as he walked out I was instantly horny. On top of everythiing else I was feeling, I wanted to fucking jump him too.

So much for not throwing myself at a man who can hit a woman and his own children.

I feel like the most foul, disgusting creature on the planet. My own mind and body are betraying me. I am completely rational, completely here, and I cannot shut off this need that I feel when I'm around him. This lust. The constant fantasies about him. But really, that's small in comparison to wanting some sort of emotional nourishment from him. I want his love, his admiration, his respect, his affection. That is the sick part. Really, really sick.

So is K my mother in this scenario, or am I? Maybe we both are. Maybe K went through this when he first hit her. When he first started saying mean, ugly things to her. She has had 8 years of it. And it's taken her this long to overcome the lust and desire for acceptance to do something about it. Thank god I'm married to E. Because if I wasn't, I'm sure I would have ended up with a man exactly like J. Exactly like my father. I would be reliving my mother's entire life.

I love K so very much. She brings me joy. Despite the bubbles of lust and stupid hopes of interruption, most of the day was spent blissfully by her side with nothing else on my mind but living her. Soaking her up, breathing her, watching her. I can't keep my eyes off of her. I love the way she moves around, the way she walks and talks and smiles and bitches. I love the way she holds my hand, the way she hugs me, the way she kisses me like we're little girls on the verge of giggling. I love the fact that she reached over and played with my nipples and tried to find my clit through my jeans not once, but twice while I was driving. Not serious, but not just being funny either. Playful. She is playful and fun and intoxicating. And angry and sad and scared. She is such a beautiful mix, I love every bit of her.

The fact that she decided I'm worth keeping in her life, that is my joy.