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Hi all, I wanted to share the story of myself and a covert female narcissist (at least that's what I've come to BELIEVE she was). Here's a summary outline:
- M and I met on Tinder in January, 2017
- we texted for 10 days incessantly. She was the niece of a famous French fashion designer. She
worked in luxury retail. she lived in Paris, myself in London.
- she decided to come to London to meet me, for 1 night
- we hit it off. she came on strong. we kissed. we went back to her hotel.
- the next morning she clung to me. she wanted to see me again. she left for Paris.
- 2 weeks later she came back to London for Valentine’s Day. I booked a place. we had sex
constantly, mostly at her behest. On our last night she confided she thought she “loved me.” I couldn’t reciprocate. We
barely knew each other.
- 4 weeks passed. we spoke on skype each night, for about an hour. This time I would come to see
her, in Paris. Things settled, began to feel normal, I was beginning to know her quite well from all of our texting and skyping, etc. My last day with her on this trip, she would stroke my arm, assuring me I was “perrrrfect!”, as though she were grooming me, seeing something in me that I couldn't abide. I do not think of myself as perfect, after all. I was embarrassed.
- Months past, things became practically domestic. We spoke on skype each night. How’s your day? How’s your mother? etc. We saw each other every 3-4 weeks for 3-4 days at a time.
- I took her to a work event in Europe in the summer. I was nervous, anxious, absent minded. She became upset that I hadn’t paid her enough attention during a black tie event. No matter how many times throughout the duration of our relationship I would apologise for what seemed to me a minor, human infraction, she would never let me forget that “something broke in me, then.”
- I visited her and her mother for a vacation on the French coast. Everything was fine, with the exception of her having asked that I not go close to waves on a particularly violent day. I told her I’d be as safe as that 8-year old boy dancing along the shore with his grandparents. I walked not closer than 30ft to these crashing waves, completely safe. She disappeared behind me. 10 minutes later I went to find her. She was sobbing on a bench, alone. “Why couldn’t you just do like I asked?” Later we had dinner with her mother and stepfather. She spoke in French with them. I thought they were arguing. In the bedroom at night I told her she ought not to fight with her mother. “We weren’t fighting. I was just saying that I prefer to take holidays alone.” Dog-whistling, while I sat at the table, unable to translate the goings-on.
- 2 months’ past. We continued to speak on skype. She continued to tell me she loved me, was devoted to me, even as I could sense things were cooling between us.
- Suddenly, with 3 weeks’ notice, she lets me know she’s moving to London. She has taken a job. I am surprised but also elated.
- She arrives in London. She is staying with a friend’s ex-husband and his young daughter in a house.
- within her first week here, after months of talking about her coming to London and sharing a life together, she skypes me and “wants a breakup!” We meet the following day. The contents of the conversation are so warped, so start-and-stop that I leave not remembering what the hell was even said. All I know is that she agrees to “try again.” Bizarrely, one thing I remember her telling me: "look, you could tell me you're seeing 1 or even 2 different girls right now and I'd be fine with that. we can just be friends." 2 nights previous, we're texting kisses to each other. 2 nights later, it's fine if I were two-timing her?!
- 4 weeks pass. During that time she is moody. We never have sex anymore. She’s never in the mood. She never wants to go out. Anywhere. She comes to my flat, legs unshaven, eats something then collapses in bed. In the morning she collects her phone and scrolls through Instagram. I do not express anger. I tell myself we will work through things. She occasionally sends passive-aggressive texts, like telling me she was "chatting with a customer. I asked him out for tea. no big deal. that doesn't bother you, right?" She would assure me that her tea date meant nothing, but seemed adamant on enquiring “you’re sure this didn’t bother you, right?” “no, not at all. you met a guy, had time to kill, went out for a drink” “ok, it’s just that, I don’t know, you look.... like maybe you’re bothered or something?” “no, I’m fine.” “ok!"
- It’s Christmas time. I’d like to take her and her sister, who’s visiting, out for Christmas lunch, dinner, anything. “Well,” says M, “she’s not your biggest fan.” I have no idea why. I have never even so much as shouted at M, complained about her behaviour, nothing. And her sister's never met me before.
- She baits me Christmas Eve, 9am text: “What are you up to today?” me: “I’m picking up ingredients for dinner, I’m having people over. Let’s meetup today...?” She doesn’t answer until 7pm. I am in the middle of cooking, entertaining friends. I check my phone at midnight. She’s sent a text. “I’m having a really hard time right now. We need to talk tomorrow.” The next morning, on eggshells, my voice cracking over the phone, apologising - needlessly - for not having called, letting her know I was simply too busy. “I don’t care that it’s Christmas! This was about priorities! Don’t talk to me for 5 days.” “why 5 days?” “my period!”
- the next day she contacts me. I’ve had it. I express to her that she’s ruining Christmas, but I do so calmly and cogently. She begins to sob. She finally says, “I want OUT of this relationship! I want someone else! Well, not someone else, but I’d rather be alone. It's not you, it's me. All I can see is the bad."
- we arrange to meet on New Year’s Eve day, 4 days later. The day arrives, she is due to meet me at my studio. I receive a text: "sorry, but I don't think I can make it. I'm tired and don't want to take 30 minutes on the tube to listen to you."
- I am confused. I have done nothing wrong. I plead with her to see me. She agrees that I can come up to her flat to see her, in the evening.
- I arrive at her flat. She is prepared, legs crossed on her bed. She tells me “it’s over.” She tells me I should seek psychiatric help, like she does, so that I can “learn more about yourself.” She gaslights, bad. She denies things she’s said in the past. What was a rogues gallery of asshole boyfriends from the past now become “just really nice, smart, fun guys.” I am sobbing, uncontrollably. The room is spinning. I feel like I’m losing my mind, or that she has. She tells me, shoulders shrugged, “oh, I just projected onto you who I wanted you to be.” “I know I’ll have many more relationships in life.” etc. I see a guy down the hall in her flat, she gives me the mischievous look of a 10-year old girl and tells me "yeah, I've got a new roommate. this guy..." I leave, I am tossed out into the cold on New Year’s Eve, desolate.
- I email her the next day. Let’s still go out again, I ask. I need closure. “I’d love to hang out with you anytime. Let’s go to the movies!” Just 1 month earlier she expressed how much she didn’t like movie theatres. we go to the movies. I beg to be taken back. she’s not having it.
- 1 weeks passes. I discover she is on Tinder again. 2 new male followers on instagram. I ask her why she’s already on Tinder. “don’t hurt yourself.” “because I have a life.” etc.
- another week passes. she contacts me, wanting to go to the movies again to collect her stuff from me - underwear. I agree. she tells me what a ball she’s having in London. clubbing, partying hard. all the things she was never in the mood to do with me. we have a drink. I plead. I beg. she is silent. she now says she simple doesn’t love me. not anymore, just “I don’t love you.” period. I say to her, “you know, M, most women at your age don’t talk about being in many more relationships. they talk about finding the right guy.” she laughs, dismissively, then turns her head, contempt in her eyes, “you just weren’t the right guy.”
- another week passes. she contacts me. “sorry I haven’t given much news. I am in Paris moving my stuff to London. let’s meet up when I’m back.”
- 4 days later she calls me on the phone, without reason, wanting to know “how you’re doing?” “why?”, I ask. “...because....I care.” “I’m fine,” I tell her, because it's none of her business that I feel desolate. “Look, I just want to know how you’re doing” “I’m fine,” I say, irritated that she’s pressing me. “I’m not asking if you’re seeing someone else. That would be inappropriate.” This is weird, I think, and again express that I’m fine and end the conversation. In retrospect, I think she was simply sucking out the last remaining juices, the last bit of anything I could give her.
- weeks pass, we still haven’t met as she’s promised. finally I begin pressing her. she tells me she’s lost her new job. it’s the fault of “the girl in head office, she doesn’t like me” and not the fact that she was online on WhatsApp nearly every minute of the day (admittedly, I was checking all of her social media activities)
- 4 days later she agrees to a phone call. I have been chasing her. “so when are we gonna meet up?”, I ask calmly. “why? why do you want to meet up? so you can ask me about my love life?”
I am not shocked, I half-expected this. “oh, you have a love life?” “I’m seeing someone, yes. and we have pretty strong feelings for each other.” I can tell she’s lying, unsure of herself. “but....our situation....is complicated.” “why?”, deadpan. “because he has a girlllllfriennnnd”, her voice and inflection like that of a naughty 8 year-old, which is not something I experienced during our relationship so it was fucking weird. “oh.” “pretty fucked up, right?”, her tone now back to a 30 year-old woman. “yup.” “so, I don’t think we should see each other anymore and...I don’t think we should give each other any more news. but you said you had some things you wanted to apologise for, so would you like to do that over the phone?” I can’t believe the gall. “Not anymore,” I tell her.
- the next day I lose my mind. I demand a meeting. she was the one who wanted another meeting. she was the one who had been stringing me along now for those past 2 months. she denies me, tells me this breakup and closure is my "problem", then blocks me on WhatsApp.
- I begin to email her, incessantly, with questions about who the hell she is, what she ever felt about me. I hounded her. This goes on for 1 week until I receive not a warning shot, not a “fuck off”, but she tells me she has taken all of my emails to the police.
- 3 weeks pass. no contact. I am on holiday. I receive a phone call. “I neeeeeedddd you!” “well let’s meet up. tomorrow, when I’m back in London.” the following day I receive an email. “sorry, I should not have contacted you. my mistake.”
- I attempt to tip off the new guy’s girlfriend. I know who M is seeing and I'm hungry for revenge. I found out via her instagram followers, likes, etc. She calls me. She asks if I attempted to badmouth her to this woman. I deny. 1 week later I receive a phone call from police. “she should not have contacted you. if either of you contact each other anymore, either of you will have the right to charge for harrassment.” I have been no contact ever since. She has moved back to Paris. London didn’t work out.
RED FLAGS:
- all of M’s boyfriends, at the beginning, were bad. she was “the perfect girlfriend”, literally her own words
- abusive upbringing. mother is likely a psycho/narc, a receptionist gold digger who left her father for some rich Spaniard. prior to, she had been cheating x100 on Dad and when she left him, according to M, "Dad was on anti-depressants for 4 years." Mom has breast implants, Mom was left by the rich Spaniard and now lives in a modest 2-bed apartment with her latest husband of 10 years or so. Mom "was very cruel to me when I was a child", M always told me. The sick thing? Since we broke up, M has become close to her mother, even posting images of the two of them together on her Instagram. so who was once a "slut" is now a "@queen"
- told me she loved me on 3rd date
- expressed she saw a therapist. had “abandonment issues” and “anxiety attacks.” her therapist routinely put her under hypnotherapy. she would routinely prompt me for how I felt. we’d make love. we’d have just eaten lunch. “how do you feel?” almost as if she couldn’t gauge for herself. upon discard, “oh I just projected onto you who I wanted you to be.” how conscious is she, I now wonder, of her condition? has her therapist told her she's NPD?
- assured me what a “good girl” she was. “I was out for dinner. A girl I used to know for years told me ‘you know, M, you were one of the good girls.’ I went home that night just crying and crying. It was so sweet to say that.”
- contradicting this assessment by others, once told me other men thought she was “cold. bit of a bitch.”
- assured me, early on, she wasn’t a "psycho", "needy", or a "princess"
- once said she “thought you were dark.” When I questioned her about what that meant, I didn’t get a cogent explanation. She wants a dark man. A man who “drives things.”
- once laughed at the thought of an ex-boyfriend having “lost like a lot of weight after I left him.” poor guy, I thought.
- a certain shallowness in bed. almost camp sensibility. “I want you inside me.” etc.
- told me about an ex who had proposed marriage to her, even bought the ring, but “I didn’t love him.” how didn’t he know that? before proposing, I now wonder. most guys who pop the question would think they had a decent chance, right?
- every man she’s been with is more successful than she is. but, being a covert/inverted narcissist, constantly expressed altruistic notions of humbleness, humility, “I don’t care about money”, etc. Yet looking at her instagram, everything she ‘likes’ is luxury goods, the new handbag, the 5-star hotel resort that some model has posted to her account
- confided in me that she took cash for sex “just a few times” from a guy who approached her in a nightclub, “but he was a famous music producer.”
- confided in me an ex-boyfriend tried to hit her in bed once. “I think he was into BDSM or something.” now I wonder: was she testing me? is this something she actually liked but was too ashamed to admit?
- ALL of her recent ex-boyfriends lived outside of Paris, outside of France. 2 in New York, myself and another man in London. the guy who she found with the girlfriend? living in Stockholm.
-even right up until the end, I would receive kisses via WhatsApp, she spoke of a future, etc.
-her Instagram looks now like a diary of narcissism. and yet everyone around her is convinced she is a ‘sweet light’ ‘the sweetest’ ‘the cutest’. a victim. of me, the psychopath who never once shouted at, hit, even rarely disagreed with her.
here's a key question: if she had been getting therapy for some unknown condition, one she never told me about, how much of a malignant narcissist is she? is it possible to, on the one hand, be aware that you have a problem with empathy, projection, etc. because that's what your therapist has told you, and only be a narcissist? or is self-awareness pointing toward Anti-Social PD? I keep wondering just how conscious she was, during our relationship, that she was duping me.
Your thoughts, analysis, is welcome. Thank you.
- M and I met on Tinder in January, 2017
- we texted for 10 days incessantly. She was the niece of a famous French fashion designer. She
worked in luxury retail. she lived in Paris, myself in London.
- she decided to come to London to meet me, for 1 night
- we hit it off. she came on strong. we kissed. we went back to her hotel.
- the next morning she clung to me. she wanted to see me again. she left for Paris.
- 2 weeks later she came back to London for Valentine’s Day. I booked a place. we had sex
constantly, mostly at her behest. On our last night she confided she thought she “loved me.” I couldn’t reciprocate. We
barely knew each other.
- 4 weeks passed. we spoke on skype each night, for about an hour. This time I would come to see
her, in Paris. Things settled, began to feel normal, I was beginning to know her quite well from all of our texting and skyping, etc. My last day with her on this trip, she would stroke my arm, assuring me I was “perrrrfect!”, as though she were grooming me, seeing something in me that I couldn't abide. I do not think of myself as perfect, after all. I was embarrassed.
- Months past, things became practically domestic. We spoke on skype each night. How’s your day? How’s your mother? etc. We saw each other every 3-4 weeks for 3-4 days at a time.
- I took her to a work event in Europe in the summer. I was nervous, anxious, absent minded. She became upset that I hadn’t paid her enough attention during a black tie event. No matter how many times throughout the duration of our relationship I would apologise for what seemed to me a minor, human infraction, she would never let me forget that “something broke in me, then.”
- I visited her and her mother for a vacation on the French coast. Everything was fine, with the exception of her having asked that I not go close to waves on a particularly violent day. I told her I’d be as safe as that 8-year old boy dancing along the shore with his grandparents. I walked not closer than 30ft to these crashing waves, completely safe. She disappeared behind me. 10 minutes later I went to find her. She was sobbing on a bench, alone. “Why couldn’t you just do like I asked?” Later we had dinner with her mother and stepfather. She spoke in French with them. I thought they were arguing. In the bedroom at night I told her she ought not to fight with her mother. “We weren’t fighting. I was just saying that I prefer to take holidays alone.” Dog-whistling, while I sat at the table, unable to translate the goings-on.
- 2 months’ past. We continued to speak on skype. She continued to tell me she loved me, was devoted to me, even as I could sense things were cooling between us.
- Suddenly, with 3 weeks’ notice, she lets me know she’s moving to London. She has taken a job. I am surprised but also elated.
- She arrives in London. She is staying with a friend’s ex-husband and his young daughter in a house.
- within her first week here, after months of talking about her coming to London and sharing a life together, she skypes me and “wants a breakup!” We meet the following day. The contents of the conversation are so warped, so start-and-stop that I leave not remembering what the hell was even said. All I know is that she agrees to “try again.” Bizarrely, one thing I remember her telling me: "look, you could tell me you're seeing 1 or even 2 different girls right now and I'd be fine with that. we can just be friends." 2 nights previous, we're texting kisses to each other. 2 nights later, it's fine if I were two-timing her?!
- 4 weeks pass. During that time she is moody. We never have sex anymore. She’s never in the mood. She never wants to go out. Anywhere. She comes to my flat, legs unshaven, eats something then collapses in bed. In the morning she collects her phone and scrolls through Instagram. I do not express anger. I tell myself we will work through things. She occasionally sends passive-aggressive texts, like telling me she was "chatting with a customer. I asked him out for tea. no big deal. that doesn't bother you, right?" She would assure me that her tea date meant nothing, but seemed adamant on enquiring “you’re sure this didn’t bother you, right?” “no, not at all. you met a guy, had time to kill, went out for a drink” “ok, it’s just that, I don’t know, you look.... like maybe you’re bothered or something?” “no, I’m fine.” “ok!"
- It’s Christmas time. I’d like to take her and her sister, who’s visiting, out for Christmas lunch, dinner, anything. “Well,” says M, “she’s not your biggest fan.” I have no idea why. I have never even so much as shouted at M, complained about her behaviour, nothing. And her sister's never met me before.
- She baits me Christmas Eve, 9am text: “What are you up to today?” me: “I’m picking up ingredients for dinner, I’m having people over. Let’s meetup today...?” She doesn’t answer until 7pm. I am in the middle of cooking, entertaining friends. I check my phone at midnight. She’s sent a text. “I’m having a really hard time right now. We need to talk tomorrow.” The next morning, on eggshells, my voice cracking over the phone, apologising - needlessly - for not having called, letting her know I was simply too busy. “I don’t care that it’s Christmas! This was about priorities! Don’t talk to me for 5 days.” “why 5 days?” “my period!”
- the next day she contacts me. I’ve had it. I express to her that she’s ruining Christmas, but I do so calmly and cogently. She begins to sob. She finally says, “I want OUT of this relationship! I want someone else! Well, not someone else, but I’d rather be alone. It's not you, it's me. All I can see is the bad."
- we arrange to meet on New Year’s Eve day, 4 days later. The day arrives, she is due to meet me at my studio. I receive a text: "sorry, but I don't think I can make it. I'm tired and don't want to take 30 minutes on the tube to listen to you."
- I am confused. I have done nothing wrong. I plead with her to see me. She agrees that I can come up to her flat to see her, in the evening.
- I arrive at her flat. She is prepared, legs crossed on her bed. She tells me “it’s over.” She tells me I should seek psychiatric help, like she does, so that I can “learn more about yourself.” She gaslights, bad. She denies things she’s said in the past. What was a rogues gallery of asshole boyfriends from the past now become “just really nice, smart, fun guys.” I am sobbing, uncontrollably. The room is spinning. I feel like I’m losing my mind, or that she has. She tells me, shoulders shrugged, “oh, I just projected onto you who I wanted you to be.” “I know I’ll have many more relationships in life.” etc. I see a guy down the hall in her flat, she gives me the mischievous look of a 10-year old girl and tells me "yeah, I've got a new roommate. this guy..." I leave, I am tossed out into the cold on New Year’s Eve, desolate.
- I email her the next day. Let’s still go out again, I ask. I need closure. “I’d love to hang out with you anytime. Let’s go to the movies!” Just 1 month earlier she expressed how much she didn’t like movie theatres. we go to the movies. I beg to be taken back. she’s not having it.
- 1 weeks passes. I discover she is on Tinder again. 2 new male followers on instagram. I ask her why she’s already on Tinder. “don’t hurt yourself.” “because I have a life.” etc.
- another week passes. she contacts me, wanting to go to the movies again to collect her stuff from me - underwear. I agree. she tells me what a ball she’s having in London. clubbing, partying hard. all the things she was never in the mood to do with me. we have a drink. I plead. I beg. she is silent. she now says she simple doesn’t love me. not anymore, just “I don’t love you.” period. I say to her, “you know, M, most women at your age don’t talk about being in many more relationships. they talk about finding the right guy.” she laughs, dismissively, then turns her head, contempt in her eyes, “you just weren’t the right guy.”
- another week passes. she contacts me. “sorry I haven’t given much news. I am in Paris moving my stuff to London. let’s meet up when I’m back.”
- 4 days later she calls me on the phone, without reason, wanting to know “how you’re doing?” “why?”, I ask. “...because....I care.” “I’m fine,” I tell her, because it's none of her business that I feel desolate. “Look, I just want to know how you’re doing” “I’m fine,” I say, irritated that she’s pressing me. “I’m not asking if you’re seeing someone else. That would be inappropriate.” This is weird, I think, and again express that I’m fine and end the conversation. In retrospect, I think she was simply sucking out the last remaining juices, the last bit of anything I could give her.
- weeks pass, we still haven’t met as she’s promised. finally I begin pressing her. she tells me she’s lost her new job. it’s the fault of “the girl in head office, she doesn’t like me” and not the fact that she was online on WhatsApp nearly every minute of the day (admittedly, I was checking all of her social media activities)
- 4 days later she agrees to a phone call. I have been chasing her. “so when are we gonna meet up?”, I ask calmly. “why? why do you want to meet up? so you can ask me about my love life?”
I am not shocked, I half-expected this. “oh, you have a love life?” “I’m seeing someone, yes. and we have pretty strong feelings for each other.” I can tell she’s lying, unsure of herself. “but....our situation....is complicated.” “why?”, deadpan. “because he has a girlllllfriennnnd”, her voice and inflection like that of a naughty 8 year-old, which is not something I experienced during our relationship so it was fucking weird. “oh.” “pretty fucked up, right?”, her tone now back to a 30 year-old woman. “yup.” “so, I don’t think we should see each other anymore and...I don’t think we should give each other any more news. but you said you had some things you wanted to apologise for, so would you like to do that over the phone?” I can’t believe the gall. “Not anymore,” I tell her.
- the next day I lose my mind. I demand a meeting. she was the one who wanted another meeting. she was the one who had been stringing me along now for those past 2 months. she denies me, tells me this breakup and closure is my "problem", then blocks me on WhatsApp.
- I begin to email her, incessantly, with questions about who the hell she is, what she ever felt about me. I hounded her. This goes on for 1 week until I receive not a warning shot, not a “fuck off”, but she tells me she has taken all of my emails to the police.
- 3 weeks pass. no contact. I am on holiday. I receive a phone call. “I neeeeeedddd you!” “well let’s meet up. tomorrow, when I’m back in London.” the following day I receive an email. “sorry, I should not have contacted you. my mistake.”
- I attempt to tip off the new guy’s girlfriend. I know who M is seeing and I'm hungry for revenge. I found out via her instagram followers, likes, etc. She calls me. She asks if I attempted to badmouth her to this woman. I deny. 1 week later I receive a phone call from police. “she should not have contacted you. if either of you contact each other anymore, either of you will have the right to charge for harrassment.” I have been no contact ever since. She has moved back to Paris. London didn’t work out.
RED FLAGS:
- all of M’s boyfriends, at the beginning, were bad. she was “the perfect girlfriend”, literally her own words
- abusive upbringing. mother is likely a psycho/narc, a receptionist gold digger who left her father for some rich Spaniard. prior to, she had been cheating x100 on Dad and when she left him, according to M, "Dad was on anti-depressants for 4 years." Mom has breast implants, Mom was left by the rich Spaniard and now lives in a modest 2-bed apartment with her latest husband of 10 years or so. Mom "was very cruel to me when I was a child", M always told me. The sick thing? Since we broke up, M has become close to her mother, even posting images of the two of them together on her Instagram. so who was once a "slut" is now a "@queen"
- told me she loved me on 3rd date
- expressed she saw a therapist. had “abandonment issues” and “anxiety attacks.” her therapist routinely put her under hypnotherapy. she would routinely prompt me for how I felt. we’d make love. we’d have just eaten lunch. “how do you feel?” almost as if she couldn’t gauge for herself. upon discard, “oh I just projected onto you who I wanted you to be.” how conscious is she, I now wonder, of her condition? has her therapist told her she's NPD?
- assured me what a “good girl” she was. “I was out for dinner. A girl I used to know for years told me ‘you know, M, you were one of the good girls.’ I went home that night just crying and crying. It was so sweet to say that.”
- contradicting this assessment by others, once told me other men thought she was “cold. bit of a bitch.”
- assured me, early on, she wasn’t a "psycho", "needy", or a "princess"
- once said she “thought you were dark.” When I questioned her about what that meant, I didn’t get a cogent explanation. She wants a dark man. A man who “drives things.”
- once laughed at the thought of an ex-boyfriend having “lost like a lot of weight after I left him.” poor guy, I thought.
- a certain shallowness in bed. almost camp sensibility. “I want you inside me.” etc.
- told me about an ex who had proposed marriage to her, even bought the ring, but “I didn’t love him.” how didn’t he know that? before proposing, I now wonder. most guys who pop the question would think they had a decent chance, right?
- every man she’s been with is more successful than she is. but, being a covert/inverted narcissist, constantly expressed altruistic notions of humbleness, humility, “I don’t care about money”, etc. Yet looking at her instagram, everything she ‘likes’ is luxury goods, the new handbag, the 5-star hotel resort that some model has posted to her account
- confided in me that she took cash for sex “just a few times” from a guy who approached her in a nightclub, “but he was a famous music producer.”
- confided in me an ex-boyfriend tried to hit her in bed once. “I think he was into BDSM or something.” now I wonder: was she testing me? is this something she actually liked but was too ashamed to admit?
- ALL of her recent ex-boyfriends lived outside of Paris, outside of France. 2 in New York, myself and another man in London. the guy who she found with the girlfriend? living in Stockholm.
-even right up until the end, I would receive kisses via WhatsApp, she spoke of a future, etc.
-her Instagram looks now like a diary of narcissism. and yet everyone around her is convinced she is a ‘sweet light’ ‘the sweetest’ ‘the cutest’. a victim. of me, the psychopath who never once shouted at, hit, even rarely disagreed with her.
here's a key question: if she had been getting therapy for some unknown condition, one she never told me about, how much of a malignant narcissist is she? is it possible to, on the one hand, be aware that you have a problem with empathy, projection, etc. because that's what your therapist has told you, and only be a narcissist? or is self-awareness pointing toward Anti-Social PD? I keep wondering just how conscious she was, during our relationship, that she was duping me.
Your thoughts, analysis, is welcome. Thank you.
