QUESTION: "Dear Ian:

My boyfriend has a bad temper and sometimes when we fight, he gets a little scary. I know when he freaks out it’s not "the real him," but do you think I should worry? How do I know if I should continue with this relationship? "

ANSWER: Wow, reading your email, I had a total déjà vu. I guess it’s your use of the term “scary” – it reminds me of my wife’s best friend, Laura.

It wasn’t too long ago that my wife spent an awful lot of time worrying about Laura -- that is, once she started seeing Jack.

To be honest, I never liked Jack -- especially his jokes. They weren’t just bad; they were bleak and mean-spirited. Jack had a misogynistic streak. It was clear he didn’t hold women in high regard. “Hey Ian” he’d say, “You’re a sex therapist – why do women close their eyes during sex?” And before I got the chance to answer, he’d retort, “Because they can’t stand to see men having fun.”

OY, as my Russian grandmother would say. But Laura hadn’t had a boyfriend in while, and Jack seemed to be crazy about her. And, after a nowhere relationship the last go-around with a metrosexual who talked about dieting and skincare more than she did, she decided to give Jack a chance. So I did too. In the beginning we’d all do regular Friday night double dates. It didn’t take long for Jack to fall from grace. He soon became moody, grouchy, and downright hostile. Laura was constantly embarrassed, trying to make light of his behavior with off-hand jokes. But that didn’t bother me as much as the fact that he seemed ready to humiliate and criticize her at the drop of a penny. And I could only wonder how much worse he was when they were on their own.

Sure as weekend rain, we began getting a follow-up call on Saturday mornings from Laura apologizing for Jack's bad behavior the night before, with any number of excuses. He'd had a bad week. It was her fault for taking too long getting ready. He stubbed his left pinkie toe in the shower. He'd eaten Mexican for lunch. It soon became clear that every week was a bad week for Jack. And every day was a bad day for Laura, since he felt no compunction about taking his frustrations out on her.
Jack was troubled, my wife would say after a particularly grueling phone call with Laura. He’d had a tumultuous, childhood with unloving parents; his last girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend; he’d struggled with depression. But Laura wanted to make sure we knew that underneath it all, there was a terrific guy screaming to be released.

Then one Friday night, at a dinner party at our apartment, Jack had too much to drink, and started spilling his cocktail all over the carpet. When Laura tried to take the drink away, Jack pushed her away, shouting: “Jesus, stop being such a controlling bitch.”

After that night I never saw Jack again. And, sadly, it didn’t take long before we stopped seeing much of Laura too: Jack didn’t like when she went out on her own, especially with "her old friends" (who all, coincidentally, happened to share the same negative opinion of him). Laura tried to put a positive spin on his possessiveness – that he was mad about her and wanted to spend every waking minute alone with her. It was because they were so much in love.

But on those rare occasions where Laura did stop by after work, she didn’t seem like a woman in love. She seemed like a woman on the verge of emotional collapse. She was tired and anxious; she was pale and anemic. She had started smoking again. Laura didn’t like to discuss Jack in front of me (since she knew how much I disliked him). So I usually made myself scarce whenever Laura snuck by for a quick round of tears and recrimination.

Soon Laura started seeing a therapist (which I thought was a terrific development), until I found out she was trying to take responsibility for her own role in provoking Jack’s aggressive behavior. Her self-esteem had plunged to an all-time low. She’d sadly entered the “maybe it’s me” pattern. Then, late one night, Laura called and asked if she could come over and spend the night. When she arrived, after midnight, she was shaken: She and Jack had fought. Jack had called her terrible names and pushed her again, but this time not to shove her away. This time he’d grabbed her by her shoulders and shaken her so hard she fell.

“It was scary,” Laura admitted. My wife and I spent the better part of the night helping her come up with an exit strategy for her dwindling relationship with Jack. When Laura left for work the following morning she was sad, but relieved, it would soon all come to an end. But then a dramatic bouquet of flowers arrived at Laura's office that day along with an invitation for a romantic dinner and a weekend getaway by the shore. So, instead of breaking up, Laura and Jack were closer than ever. In fact, things were so great between them, they even moved in together.

On learning the news, I told my wife that Laura had now officially been through all three phases of domestic abuse: (1) Tension (2) The Incident and (3) The Apology.

In the first phase, the tension between a couple builds and arguments happen more frequently. Many women describe this as "walking on eggshells," because a fight can erupt at any moment. During this time, the "victim" becomes anxious, depressed, paranoid and fearful. In the next phase, an incident, usually something extreme, pushes the abuse to a new level. Often the emotional abuse has a physical corollary: slapping, pushing, shoving, even sexual force.

But rarely do couples break up at this point. Because, just as in Laura's situation, the “incident” almost always leads to an apology, or what some therapists call the honeymoon or elation period. In this phase of making up, the abuser is on his best behavior, and for a brief moment, it seems like only blue skies ahead.

That is, until the cycle starts all over again…and then again … and again.

Eventually Laura and my wife drifted apart. Once Jack and Laura moved in together, it became harder for Laura to talk on the phone, and my wife often had the sense that Jack was hovering in the background or even listening in on another line.Last winter, Laura stopped by after work to tell us that she had an announcement: Jack had proposed. And Laura, it seems, had accepted. We put on our best smiles and congratulated her. But Laura didn’t look like a happy bride-to-be, she looked like a casualty of war, one who had just signed on for another tour of duty. Instead of glowing, she looked haggard and numb.

Laura could read my face and turned on me,
“You don’t understand,” she shouted. “Jack’s a great guy. You just don’t know the real him.”Which brings me back to your email. And I will tell you now what I told Laura, although much too late:
You don't fall in love with someone out of pity for what they've endured. Sympathy should grow out of a healthy, constructive connection. But it shouldn't replace it. Nor should "love" drive you to cover up or explain hostile, abusive behavior.

In that regard I’ll defer to the wisdom of the Clash song, Should I Stay or Should I Go?
If you go there will be trouble, but if you stay it might be double.

I should mention, as a post-script, that shortly after they were wed, Laura finally did manage to belt out a swan song: "Hit the Road Jack." Unfortunately, it wasn't until many times after he'd emotionally, and sometimes physically, belted her.

So what it comes down to is this: It doesn’t matter whether I know the real him or not. What matters is that you know the real him.

And like you said yourself, the real him is scary.

So what are you going to do about it?