It’s not always easy to tell when the little love pats have turned into an Oprah show. It may be when the you’re-so-cute! pinches start to leave bruises. Or when the nibbles turn into bites. When horsing around ends up more often in the emergency room than the bedroom. But sometimes, it’s hard to tell.
Ask Cindy. She knew Ted was a pincher from Day 1. One of those guys who’s always pinching your cheeks.
“He was an expressive, emotional, show-offy guy,” says Cindy. “The way I met him was when he came up to me at a party, took my cheeks in his fingers, pinched them and told me what a cutey-pie I was.”
Cindy fell for his blarney and before long they were talking marriage. There were a few problems, but she overlooked them. OK, Ted liked to pinch, but was that such a big deal? That’s not like abuse is it? Even when he pinched something other than her cheeks, it didn’t really seem so awful. Even that night when they were at a dinner party and he got mad at her and reached under the table and pinched her leg so hard she yelled out loud. Well, he was just trying to get her attention and keep her from making a fool of herself, right?
“By the end of the evening, he had me convinced he had pinched me to save me from my own bad behavior.” Once when they were having a fight over money, Ted’s pinch to Cindy’s arm left a black and blue mark that lasted for months. But Cindy said to herself, “Hey, it’s a pinch. What’s a pinch?”
Cindy and Ted had been married for 10 years. Cindy thought they actually got along pretty well. They both came from divorced homes, so neither had a really good idea of what a healthy marriage was like, but they both seemed satisfied. They struggled along and Cindy tried to overlook those times when Ted needed to teach her some lesson or another by pinching, grabbing or pushing. They didn’t count.
“To me, abuse was hitting or slapping or actually beating somebody.” In Cindy’s family, people expressed anger through yelling and slamming doors. Ted’s way was quieter and in a way, Cindy preferred it.
Seven years ago, Cindy and Tom had their a child. Sam was a lively little boy. When he was 4, he was diagnosed as hyperactive. When he was 5, his dad started spanking him. Hard.
“Ted had a belt with Indian beadwork on it,” says Cindy. “When Sam got into something he wasn’t supposed to, Ted would hit him with the bead side of the belt. Sam had little spots on his skin from the beads.”
Ted began to push Cindy, too. He blamed all their problems on her. He called her names. He told her she spent too much money. She was a lousy cook, a lousy wife.
Then Cindy started getting calls from Sam’s school. He was hitting other children. He pinched one girl and left a purple mark. He threw toys.
“This was the wakeup call I needed,” says Cindy. “It was like, `Yoo-hoo, anyone home? Your kid is acting out exactly what he sees.’ ” Cindy realized that a home with Mommy and Daddy and baby wasn’t worth much if Daddy was beating Mommy and baby. Violence and anger aren’t family values. So, a year ago, Cindy packed her bags and Sam’s and left. She has had several months of abusive telephone calls from Ted, but no pushing and no pinching.
“Sam’s still having a very hard time. But at least I know it’s not from what he’s seeing, but from what he’s feeling. That’s something I can deal with.”
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Are men and women really that different? Send your response to Cheryl Lavin, Tales From the Front, Chicago Tribune, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill., 60611. Include day and evening phone numbers. Letters may be used in whole or in part for any purpose and become property of the column.
