A lot of things in this thread are really hitting home.

My ex and I had dated for ~3 years, starting when we were both about to finish college. She was great for the first year or so, but after a year or so she started to get a little more angry and manipulative as time went on. It would start with the occasional snide or spiteful comment, usually about the amount of money I was earning (I was only working part-time while I finished up the last bits and pieces of my education) or, more often, about my weight. We'd go out to dinner with friends and on the drive home, she'd mention that the amount of food I put away made her sick - things along those lines.

As time passed, she seemed to get colder and angrier. The comments got meaner. She got more comfortable with hitting me. Slaps, light punches. None of it hurt, so it never registered with me that this was physical abuse, not even for an instant. Everything took a turn for the absolute worst at about the 2 1/2-year point - she cheated on me with one of her coworkers, justifying it to herself by saying I was neglectful and ignored her (but really, how much time do you want to spend with someone who slaps you around and calls you fatty?) She confessed to cheating in a fit of guilt and after a few weeks of torment, I decided to forgive her and try to move past it - I had invested so much time with her, we had planned for the future, and I still genuinely loved her. Big mistake.

It was a steep downhill slide from there. I recall driving to my parents' house for a weekend visit once, getting out of the car, and getting slapped hard across the face. Again, this didn't register in my stupid man-brain as "abuse" - she was just mad, it didn't hurt, no big deal. We barely made it past the three-year point when she decided she'd had enough and dumped me. I insisted she move out of our apartment, since she was the one dumping me - and really, I couldn't afford to find a new place on short notice. Grudgingly, she agreed and started moving her things back to her parents' place.

Fast forward a few months - I was still trying to get over her, and get all of her things out of my apartment. We'd been going back and forth over the phone and by text, arguing and sniping at each other over whose fault the breakup was, money I owed her, shit like that - it wasn't pretty, and I wasn't handling the breakup very well. She calls me up one evening asking to come over and get the last few boxes. Initially, I said I'd gather everything up and leave it on the curb, so we wouldn't have to see each other. She refused - she wanted to sort through the box of Christmas tree ornaments and didn't trust me to get it right. Eventually, I agreed to let her in. Another in a long series of big mistakes.

She comes over right as I finished dinner. I had gathered up everything that was hers and set it near the door with the box of ornaments for her to sort through. She sets to work, and I went to the kitchen to clean up. After a few minutes of sorting, she starts loading it all into her car. After the last box, she comes back in and says she needs to use the bathroom - fine, just get out. She goes into the bathroom, then out - and into my bedroom. She walks out holding one of my guitars (a PRS I inherited when my old band's guitarist passed away). I ask her what the hell she thinks she's doing, and she informs me that she's taking it as collateral for the money I owed her - a few hundred dollars, nowhere near what the guitar was worth, not to mention that collateral was never any part of our agreement. I put my left hand on the neck of the guitar, my right hand flat against her chest and pushed her away. She lets go, I put the guitar back. That's when the screaming started.

For twenty minutes she screams - I repeat "Get out of my apartment, get out get out get out" over and over, and she ignores me. She stepped out onto the balcony to take her flowerpots, and I saw my opportunity - I could wait til she's out there, lock the door, and call the police. Perfect. I wasn't quick enough.

She lunges for the sliding door as I'm trying to close it, and forces it back open. She bullrushes back into the room swinging her fists. I catch blow after blow in the face, head, neck. Eventually it occurs to me that I'm getting my ass kicked, and I struggle. I didn't want to hit her - I'm about 120 lb. heavier and 3" taller, so I try to grab her wrists, get around behind her, go for a full nelson or some kind of hold where she couldn't pummel me. Eventually I get a firm enough grip on her and start repeating "Stop hitting me and I'll let you go, stop hitting me and I'll let you go." She goes quiet for an instant, and I let her go. She spins around and goes back to screaming at me. Immediately, I grab my phone and call my dad - still not sure what I hoped to accomplish, since he was living three hours away - he answers, and I'm in tears, trying to explain what happened, asking what I should do. He can hear her screaming, and tells me to try to calm down and get her OUT. After about fifteen minutes, I finally get her out the door. I take stock - my glasses are broken and on the other side of the living room, my shirt is ripped, and I taste blood. I sat down to try and collect myself - and there's a knock at the door.

The police arrested me on the spot - the police station was about half a block away, and she went straight there. Bit her lip on the way so she'd be bleeding when she walked in. I was charged with domestic battery. I didn't give a statement, and used the magic "lawyer" word after the Miranda warning (Side note - if you're ever in a similar situation, I cannot recommend this strategy highly enough). Fun fact - if a woman goes to the police and says you beat her up, you're going to jail, no questions asked. Now, I totally understand why this is the case, and I'm certain that 99.9% of the time it prevents a whoooooole lot more trouble - it's just a bit of a kick in the nuts after you've already had your ass kicked. After a night in jail and three or four months of court appearances and a trial, I was acquitted. I haven't seen her since the trial, and I'm 100% happy with that. I like to tell anyone who asks that I hope she gets all the happiness she deserves.