Nice Guy Syndrome

Justin is one of those men that women like to befriend - he is funny, he is kind and he definitely has nice guy syndrome. Since we have been here, I have met a lot of his female friends and co-workers who have all said what a great guy he is. Luckily for me, none of them stayed romantically interested - and he has been a blessing to me and the kids every day since we met. Amazingly enough, I knew from the first night we were together that this was different - and that he was the kind of man a woman like me could count on. This time, I think my instinct was right - or more likely, God took pity on both of us and shoved us in the pool together - hoping we'd figure it out. He posted this yesterday and I felt compelled to add it here because it is a portrait of the genuine beauty of his heart.

2005-02-07
Responsibility
Despite feeling as poorly as I do, I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning talking with Bear. This week has been a rough one for her, and also for her mother. There have been arguments and harsh words, and a lot of folks have spent some time walking around feeling hurt. The talk did us good. It was due. It also underlined for me the awesome responsibilities that I've taken upon my shoulders.The responsibility has (thankfully) revealed itself to me in steps. Step one was that of being responsible for the safety of a family that felt unsafe. In all honesty, I've never had to fear for my life. When I took these four people into my home, I appointed myself as protector for them against something I couldn't actually fathom. I rank this as the first responsibility because safety is the reason that they all moved here to begin with. It took time, but the hard edges softened. Both boys no longer scream in fear while they sleep. Bear is able to socialize and get around, and can sleep at home without obsessively making sure everything lockable was locked.Another step was that of being a good role model. I only had a vague idea of what this would entail when this whole roller coaster ride began. First is my responsibility to Loner. She's a woman who has been hurt and mauled at almost every turn in her life. With nobody else to depend on, she has always been a fiercely independent woman who always found a way to do things on her own. For her to be willing to allow someone else to shoulder some of the burden took a lot. There's also the constant threat hanging over her, as well as the family: Is he going to leave? How do we know, I mean really know, that he's not going to cut and run? When he gets mad, is he going to hurt us? For Loner, and for all of them, I have to be the kind of man that they need. I have to show that I'm willing to take the bad times with the good and not run away.For Bear, I need to be a genuinely good man. I don't know how many of those she has known. Her Grandpa, certainly, but I don't know how many others. It's not easy, and I make mistakes. Still, I don't want her to spend her whole life thinking that Men (in the generally specific sense) treat women badly, leave when the going is rough, and don't care what kids have to say. I want her to see a man who continues to carry the burden that he has chosen, if for no other reason than that he said he would. I also want to be a friend to her. Her life has been really messed up - this is something we agreed on. I don't want to be simply The Guy Who's Seeing Her Mother. I want to be for her what my father was for me: a friend, an occasional confidant, someone to whom she can go when the other options stink, someone who has to discipline without liking it, someone who wants to help her become the person she wants to be.Then there are the boys. They're both so young and full of life and anxiety and energy and yearning. How can I be a good role model to these guys, who have never had a good man in their lives for any extended length of time? I try to show them how a man should treat the woman in their lives. For that matter, I try to show them what it means to have the characteristics of a good, Southern gentleman. I've never been perfect at being that, but it's something worth teaching. I want to show them that I care about what they have to say. I care about what's going on in their lives. I care if they can't sleep. I care when they're sad, or mad, or happy. When they're upset with me, I want to know why so that I can make sure I'm setting the kind of example that I want to set.For all four of them, there's one thing that I try to convey at every chance that I can. I love them. Even when I have to scold, and especially when I praise, I love them. I love them when I have to hound them to pick up their things. I love them when we all run out back to play with the dogs. I love them when they're being pains in my backside. I love them when they can't sleep and need someone to lay next to them. I love them when I'm at mass on Sunday, kneeling and thanking God for what I have.Yes, it's a huge responsibility that I've chosen to take. When I look around the house, though, I feel like I'm doing pretty well. The signs of healing are everywhere: Loner relaxing at day's end, Bear happily flopping down on the sofa to tell me about her day, Jacob liking me even though I make him clean his room, and Josh when he lets down his facade to geek out and talk with me about movies. It's tough, and it's scary as hell, and it takes a toll on me. When I look around me, though, and I see the family that is still taking a chance on me, the responsibility is still there but the load seems somehow lighter.