I've been married twenty years and I've never once hit my husband. Or rather I haven't hit him in ways that he doesn't like. I've taught our kids to respect, if not revere him. I've never slept with anyone but him. Ever. When I learned arguing was not an effective communication tool with him, I changed my communication style. I've gone hungry with him. I've spent North Dakota winters with him without a car. Just in the last few months, I've built the eight foot tall book shelves and ten foot long desk he wanted and designed.
I know I can be kind of a crazy bitch, but I have a sense of honor. I'm not saying it's not some weird Scots-Irish trailer trash version of honor, but it's honor nonetheless. If he doesn't hit me, cheat on me, or voluntarily let the kids and I do without (like gamble or drink away his paychecks so we can't pay our bills or buy food) I won't throw all his crap in the yard and burn it or stab him in his sleep. I don't think that's unreasonable.