I bet I have a TON in common with your husband. Especially the part about being a jock. Being a victim of abuse. Being a sometime participant in the abuse, too. I mean, let's face it. I was a confused kid, and some of the shit that I saw and did seemed "appealing" at the time. That doesn't have anything to do with the fact that other people got their rocks off on me in painful and hurtful ways. That doesn't have anything to do with the fact that that early sexual stuff, some of it before I reached puberty, wrecked my boundaries toward sex and intimacy and prompted me to build a double-existence, one where I usually lived and existed, and another secret and disgusting and sexual one. It pains me to say all this stuff, because the legacy of abuse is so fucking complicated with disgust and attraction.

But if he wants to get to a healthy place, he has to just dig into it for himself. If I were you, I'd give him these posts. I don't know who you are. Nobody knows who I am. But I'm not in the closet. I'm not denying who I am to anyone. This is nobody's business but mine and my wife's. My brother was abused with me. He doesn't know that I'm in therapy, dealing with my issues. I mean, he could maybe suss it out if he read these and connected a ton of dots, but I don't give a damn about that. But the last thing I want to do is spread my dirty laundry all over the fucking place.

I'm seriously glad that you replied. That you talked a bit about the particulars of your situation. It's really, really helpful to me.

Thanks again. Good luck.

By the way, grunge fucking rocks. Melancholy and rage, to me, are twin emotions. And those two emotions, plus an acute awareness, I believe, are the foundation of grunge.