Madame Time Outstrides Us All

The end of the year. A time for reflection no doubt as you consider what has come to pass in the past twelve months. For many of you it will have been a turbulent year as you deal with someone like me in your life. You may still be locked in the dance with our kind and now sit reflecting on the cost that has been extracted from you to engage in this unrelenting whirlwind of ups and downs. Others of you will perhaps be a little further on the road to recovery having uncoupled yourself from the narcissist in your life and you are now dealing with the emotional aftermath of this most toxic of relationships. My observation and imagination causes me to recognise that you are doubtless surrounded by a vast array of emotions, emotions that are alien and unachievable to me. That does not concern me. I have explained how I must be unburdened from such feelings in order to be the person that I am. You, by contrast, flick through pain, regret, joy, elation and hope as you engage in the customary nostalgia that takes place t this time of year. Not I. I seldom reflect on what has been. I only do so in order to better recall my past conquests and achievements and for the purposes of spreading my works amongst you all. I prefer to look forward. Dwelling serves no purpose, old fuel is no fuel to me. I am always looking forward, anticipating, contemplating and evaluating. I must drive forward, always forwad, for if I stop I will vanish. That is the fate that awaits me and it is one I accept and do so without complaint. This is how it must be for me and I embrace it.

Thus as we stand on the cusp of a New Year (those readers in the east will nearly be there by the time this appears on their devices) I would like to thank you for reading and contributing. Your comments, observations and questions are all received with my customary polite thanks for I realise that I cannot dance alone and I need you too. So, thank you for your involvement so far, thank you for sparring with me, complimenting me, insulting me or just for reading my words. I look forward to our relationship continuing in 2016.

HG

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To Weave a Web

I have made mention of how the advancements in technology have provided my kind and I with a smorgasbord of methods to carry out our works. From seduction to manipulation the freedom that comes with wifi and a functioning device provides is with a wealth of opportunity. My web can be spread wide over the….well the web. How apt it is that the pioneers of the internet decided on the appellation of world wide web. The electronic blanket which encapsulates this planet is indeed a web. A perilous place which readily ensnares the unwary. From chatrooms, to text messaging, through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, e-mail and dating sites, the internet has proven to be bountiful in its riches for my kind. Of course, this vast array of different hunting grounds can only be of benefit to the seasoned hunter. You can fill a river with salmon but if you do not know how to fish then you will not catch anything. Of course, I know how to fish, to shoot, to spear and to hunt. My mastering of the tools of manipulation enables me to sniff out my prey in moments and like a lion tracking a bison, drag them to the ground and eat them from behind before they even realise what has happened to them. Have you ever seen the expression on a felled bison or buffalo as a predatory lion gorges on their flesh? It is not pain, it is not frustrated struggle but an almost blissful ignorance to what is actually happening. They seem unaware that they are being devoured. It is so similar for my victims. They smile and purr even as I am taking chunks from them because that is the high level of my skill.

Thus the internet has become my hunting ground and my various manipulative machinations are given a good run out amidst the waiting and willing victims. There is one thing however that always works in this electronic shop window and that is the art of conversation.

My early forays in chatrooms bore fruit so incredibly quickly. Even I was taken aback at how easy it was. So many times I read comments such as

“It is such a lovely change to meet someone who can hold a conversation.”

“You are so charming and interesting, you actually hold a conversation than saying hi babe wanna shag?”

“You are clearly intelligent and interested in me. I am not used to that. So many of the men on here just want a picture of my boobs or want to send me a dick pic, you are not like that.”

Naturally, I was not engaged in conversations with men so I do not know if there is a boorish equivalent amongst the female ranks. Certainly in all my conversations I never came across any lady whose opening gambit was to offer a picture of her genitals. I take the view therefore that it is the male of the species that is letting you down. They are certainly not letting me down. By populating chat rooms and dating sites and trotting out such Neanderthal lines these men are increasing my currency. The fact I can talk about a variety of subjects, ask pertinent and engaging questions and avoid suggesting a bunk up in the first ten mintues meant that I really was the desired exception. The idiots, the perverts and the inarticulate all made me look even better than I already did (yes I know that may be hard to believe!) and thus when I came sashaying into view I was greeted with utter delight by those I interacted with. Even if I had no interest in someone, I was hard pressed not to attract them, by virtue of being able to string sentences together and not engage in demands for instant sexual congress (of course that would come later when I was always pushing on an open door).

Time and time again I heard reports of the pathetic and ill-mannered behaviour of men in these arenas. I expressed dismay and castigated them for it but all the while I celebrated for so long as they continued in this vein it meant all the more eager and willing victims for me. Those weak and pathetic spiders would soon curl up and dye for there was only one giant walking through the net. Along came a spider but this one could hold a conversation.

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Street Angel – House Devil

I have been called these names more than a few times and I won’t shirk from the label with you good readers. Naturally, when the appliance I am draining levels such an accusation at me then I deflect, reflect and deny – how dare they challenge me and seek to label me to make up for their own shortcomings. Once I cross that threshold and face the world then those white, feathered wings sprout from my back, the halo shines and I move with grace and great intentions. To my neighbours I provide a cheery hello and enquire as to their health. I comment how the male neighbour is welcome to borrow a few of my Blu-ray boxsets as I espouse the excellence of a particular series. He nods his thanks and explains how he will call around that evening to borrow a set. I tell him we will have a drink too. He smiles and I can see how pleased he is to have such a pleasant and accommodating neighbour. Of course this is all designed to get him onside and a firm believer in what a good chap I am. I have been working carefully on his wife, Fiona and will update you on that in due course. When I seduce her, her eventual protestations to her husband will fall on deaf ears as he will be unable to accept that his neighbour would do such a thing as pursue and seduce his wife. He will recall all the good things that I have said and done and it will be her who will be cast as the unfaithful harpy. I am always planning ahead.

I greet the passing postman warmly and then call Kim’s brother to exchange idle banter and invite him to play golf at the weekend. He has been angling to do this for some time now and he will regard this as admission to my inner circle. Let him think that as it is what I want. I know he regards me as a good egg and thus when the inevitable chaos and spite is unleashed on dear Kim he will at worst struggle to accept that I could treat her in this fashion. At best he will take my side and cut her adrift, tired of her slanderous accusations about someone he regards as a decent fellow and a good friend. All through my day I will portray the carefully honed image to colleagues (although not all – there are a couple who are currently viewing the devil as a consequence of their lack of loyalty to me), to service providers (the lady who serves in the coffee shop near work has told me how much she looks forward to our conversations). I walk amidst the horde, hurling my sparkling dust over them, causing them to smile and admire like children following a generous candyman.

I have walked this path on many occasions. Friend to many, benefactor to several and champion to others. A solid, dependable and brilliant man who takes an interest in everyone he speaks to. So many pedestals have been constructed as I go about my day.  That friend is elevated to stand amidst all those in a similar position in my coterie as I smash down the pedestal of one particular so-called friend who has displeased me. They fall and as they do they reach out trying to grasp the hands of those in that coterie but they are all snatched away. Nobody is listening as you cast your stones at the devil that has flung you from your lofty position. All they see is the angelic smile and blazing eyes that make them feel good. I work my magic, bringing friend, neighbour, family member, stranger and acquaintance under my spell. Each of them bolsters my angelic appearance so that will be all that they see. The exiled individual will try to persuade them of the devil that has brought them low, but nobody is listening. Behind that closed door the real reign of the devil appears. It is there that I no longer need maintain the pretence and allow full vent to the venom that flows through me. You let me down and you must be punished. That is when you are trapped inside the house of satan with all the pain and misery that encompasses. I know you will try to escape and tell them all of the torment you are subjected to in these four walls but nobody will accept your warped and malicious slanders. You speak of my barbed tongue, forked tail and sharp horns but as soon as I step outside they all melt away to be replaced by the sweetest perfection as my charmed pretence masks the devil inside. I walk the path of the angel on the street beyond my door. It is inside that I trap the real angels and feed on them.

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The Night Before Christmas

It was the night before Christmas,

And all through the house,

A narc started scheming

With a click of his mouse

The stockings all hung

With a hole in the heel

Emptied of presents

How low they would feel

The children were nestled

All safe in a bed

But it was not their happiness

That was in the narc’s head

And mom sobbing quietly

As the narc sought his fuel

His words had been caustic

And his actions so cruel

When out on the net

The narc did surf wide

Seeking the playmates

To make him powerful inside

Away to the dating site

He flies in a flash

Creating false profiles

Using someone else’s cash

The moon’s light from the window

Did highlight his mask

As he lied and he boasted

Obsessed by his task

When what to his wandering eyes

Should suddenly appear

But a fresh victim

Who was deliciously near

With a click of the mouse

And the charm running high

He opened his trap

And sent lie after lie

More rapid than eagles

Did his tendrils uncoil

Snaking about her

Dripping with oil

So dashing

And charming

So swift

Began the dance

She was dazzled

Beholden

Enchanted

She stood not a chance

A red flag was flying

From a flagpole tall

Yet she was mesmerised

Taken in by it all

Yes it was late

But how about a beer

He would love to meet her

He knew she was near

So off to the bar

His victim did go

Intrigued and excited

As she strode through the snow

And then in a twinkling

She had a miseltoe kiss

What a marvellous present

It was too good to miss

And there in her head

Which was spinning around

She ignored the alarm bells

Which were beginning to sound

He gave her his fur

As he walked her back home

And there on the porch

His hands did they roam

I know it seems sudden

And I know it is late

But I have to tell you

That you’re my soulmate

She smiled and she gasped

Her heart all alight

As the harpoon hit its target

And her chest did feel tight

She took him inside

And he took her all night

A perfect coupling

It all felt so right

You are amazing

It barely seems true

But I think that I

Have fallen for you

She gazed in his eyes

For he was perfect

And basked in the love

That he did reflect

I will always protect you

He said as she dozed

Her mouth started smiling

As her eyes remained closed

Hours later she woke

The room bore a chill

The window flung open

Boot marks on the cill

She stood at the window

Her mouth open wide

As she recalled with a thrill

And such excitement inside

The mysterious stranger

Who came from nowhere

Who embraced her neck

And showed her such care

Her heart it beat faster

She wanted him so

She would soon see him

Of that she did know

With heart now on fire

And the hooks sunk in deep

She retired still smiling

To catch up on her sleep

Across town the narc was rising

His seeds had been sown

And the day’s first message

Arrived on his phone

He heard the first cries

From down below stair

About vanished presents

Such howls of despair

The narc walked to the mirror

And gave it a grin

For his schemes were now working

He was reeling them in

Already the day

Had started so well

And the ruined Christmas fayre

Would continue the hell

No laughter, no smiles

No pleasure or joy,

He smirked at the thought

Of the next broken toy

His planning bore fruit

The new prey now secure

The hopes of his family

Would soon hit the floor

A day of turmoil

Of drama and regret

With a fresh willing victim

How good would it get?

He smiled at the mirror

And there stared the ghoul

But our narc cared not one iota

He was getting his fuel

So if your night before Christmas

Sounds similar to  this tale

You know what to do

And you must not now fail

Gain knowledge, seize power

And become narc free

By reading everything you find

Written by HG

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The Futility of Your Feeling

Feelings are an unnecessary burden and thankfully I have been relieved of many of them, being left only with those which are deemed necessary to enable me to pursue the harvesting of fuel. Feelings blur and weaken. How many times have you heard your alarm go off in the morning and you have rolled over feeling like you do not want to get up? Many times I should imagine. That feeling of apprehension about what the day holds for you, despondency at what has happened to you and dread about what you have to do weakens you and holds you back. You spend much of your life in the pursuit of this notion of happiness but are you ever truly happy? Do you look at what you have and wish you had more? Do you look at other people around you and imagine how happy they must be and you wish that you were more like them? All you achieve is bitterness. Perhaps you do feel happy but as the empath that you are you see those who you regard as less happy than you and you wish that they could be more like you. All you achieve is vanity. You spend so much of your time seeking to be happy and then you worry about whether it is fleeting in nature. You express concern that you just want to be happy and spend more and more time trying to achieve this state of nirvana. You suffer from feeling sadness which leads to paralysis and indecision. You feel frustrated which sucks up your energy and leaves you feeling spent. You take pride in your ability to feel and to be able to feel on behalf of others yet all you are doing is allowing yourself to be burdened. Why bother pursuing those feelings which are regarded as positive, such as joy, happiness and elation? Is the effort truly worth it when you get there only for it to be a fleeting moment which then casts you into despondency? What was the point of that? Why allow yourself to be mired in upset, misery and dejection? You achieve nothing as you slowly sink into a quagmire of such negativity. Your feelings deceive you, press down on you and above all else allow us to manipulate you. It is because you feel this array of emotions that you provide us with emotional reactions. Of course you know that these emotional reactions create my fuel. Your feelings are to blame.

I never acquired these feelings. This is because the pursuit of fuel cannot be distracted by these cumbersome emotions. They serve no purpose and thus were never developed. I am built for the acquisition of fuel and nothing else. I am an efficient design, single-minded and driven. All excess baggage was not jettisoned, it was never stowed on board to begin with. I am not wholly without feelings. I have been developed in a way to allow certain feelings, those that aid my purpose, to come to the fore. I feel fury which ensures that I can exert control over other people and thus extract fuel from them. I feel envy which drives me on to strip away those traits from other people which I need to create my construct. If I felt no envy, I would not want these characteristics – thus this feeling serves a purpose. There is no superfluous feeling connected with me. I feel jealousy which again causes me to strive to better that person by lauding my own achievements and prompting a reaction which garners positive fuel or by berating the person of whom I am jealous and thus I harvest negative fuel. I feel hatred. This allows me to see everything as it truly is. Hatred hones and brings into sharp focus the reality of this cruel world and thus I am better able to navigate my way through it. Hatred is visceral, it is not fluffy or amorphous. It does not cloud or blur. It is direct, straight to the point and electrifying in its capacity to allow me to always go forward. All of these feelings and ones of a similar nature have been fashioned around me to assist me in my quest for fuel. Each one discharges a method of enabling me to gather fuel so that I can feel the ultimate emotion. My pursuit of fuel is predicated on the use of these various emotions with the sole purpose of allowing me to feel that emotion which I prize above all others.

I feel powerful.

I am powerful.

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Putting a Sex on You

 

I was in session with Dr E.

“So,” I asked, “what is today’s topic for discussion?”

“Sex,” he replied.

“Do I have to talk about this with you?”

He pushed his spectacles back.

“You do not have to talk about anything, but I would hope you would discuss this with me.”

“Can’t I talk to Dr O about sex?”

“Why? Are you uncomfortable discussing sex with another man?” he asked. I could see he had his pen poised ready to make a note.

“Not at all. Sorry, doctor but there is no homophobia about me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well you were about to suggest that my reluctance to discuss matters of sex with you denotes a homophobic trait on my part.”

“Not at all, that would be prejudging you and an unsafe basis for analysis.”

“I don’t believe you,” I replied.

“Why would you rather discuss sex with Dr O?” he asked. He showed no sign of irritation or disappointment at my preference.

“I would be interested to learn her views about sex. She is so pristine and clinical when I see her, I want to know what goes on under the bonnet.”

“These sessions are about you not us,” said Dr E.

“Don’t worry Dr E I have no interest in whether you apply nettles to your scrotum or whatever it is you do to excite yourself.”

“Is that something you have done?” he asked.

“No but I have used them on someone else.”

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

“Why?”

“The stinging sensation across the nipples or the inner thighs of course hurts but then that gives way to a delicious flood of pleasure when combined with the application of my tongue.”

Dr E was scribbling.

“I see, so you enjoy the fact it hurts the other person and then becomes pleasurable for her?”

“No.”

“Please do expand.”

“Will I get to talk about sex with Dr O?” I asked, shifting topic.

“On some aspects of sex, yes,” replied Dr E. I smiled.

“Good. Very well since that is going to happen and I will hold you to that promise Dr E, I will expand on my point.”

“I do it because the issue of that person’s pain and then pleasure is entirely at my gift. I control it and that appeals to me considerably.”

“So control in an sexual encounter is important to you?” asked Dr E.

“Control is the sexual encounter for me. I have little interest in my own sexual gratification, yes it feels pleasant when I orgasm but ultimately I can do that myself and invariably with more intense results. I have even less interest in the sexual gratification of another person. Denying them that sexual gratification? Now that is far more enjoyable than granting them their release. Sex is all about control. I am highly skilled in between the sheets.”

“Is that your conclusion or of others?”

“Both. You see I know how people think, I know how they react and I have had many sexual encounters with many different people. There are vast numbers of different permutations when it comes to what satisfies a person and no two people are the same.  I am like a super computer. I can rattle through the various combinations until I hit the right approach which will send my bedroom companion into orbit. I am willing to apply every part of my body, every facet of my sexual knowledge in order to make that person feel utterly orgasmic. That gives me huge control over them and makes me very powerful. I know what turns them on, what makes them moan and scream and shudder in orgasmic bliss. I use this massively powerful ability of mine to bring them under my spell. Once that is done I will grant it and deny it as and when I see fit. I will purposefully do the things that does not arouse them in order to make them react. I will caress a partner in a public place and whisper in their ear that if they show any kind of reaction to what I am doing I will stop and deny them any sexual congress for an indefinite period. This gives them an earth shattering orgasm and underlines my control over them. I will interrupt a row with a girlfriend by taking her against the kitchen workbench. She soon forgets what the argument was about as I have her moaning in delight before I just walk off before she climaxes. Imagine how she follows me about the house begging for me to “finish her off”? Think of the promises she makes just to feel me inside her again? That is control. That is power. I work out a person’s sexual key code and deliver heaven. They find that addictive and want it so much. I find the power attached to this ability addictive. When you go to bed with me you are getting the best. Nobody afterwards will come close to what I give you.”

There was a long pause as Dr E jotted down my words. He looked a little flustered to me. I wished it was Dr O sat there instead.

“Do you think a sexual encounter should be about something other than control?”

I laughed at this comment,

“Heavens no, that is its only function. It is an instrument, like so many other things, to bring you under my spell, but I must admit, it is probably one of the most potent and effective instruments. Sex is actually rather boring but controlling the reaction and emotions of another person, well, now that is far more interesting.”

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to give up that control and allow yourself to be enveloped in the ‘moment’ with the other person?” asked Dr E.

“No I cannot give up control. You see, I know there are those that engage in being tied up and punished, you know smacked with an open hand or a cane. They may get a sexual reaction from being treated like this but the real reason they do it is that they are giving up control. I had a girlfriend who was very submissive and allowed me to do…well I will let you use your imagination there doctor, but she wanted zero control. She was high up in a bank and responsible for millions of pounds and hundreds of employees and she wanted to be divested of that responsibility and give up her control if only for an hour or two. I found her explanation interesting but I could not understand it. Why give up control? Why surrender something you have worked hard to achieve? Control is the ultimate aim of taking someone to bed. I control them in that bed and the spell I put on them means that control extends far beyond the bedroom, such is its power.”

Dr E nodded and continued writing.

“What if you lost your sexual potency? What if you became impotent?” he asked.

“Why would that happen?”

“Plenty of reasons. Alcohol abuse, substance abuse, diabetes, age, anxiety. There are many reasons why this could happen.”

I shook my head.

“People like me don’t suffer that. God gave me the gift of sexual brilliance to further my purposes, He would not take it away from me.”

“But if it did happen, what would you do? How would you manage with such a loss of this marvellous instrument of control?”

“Are you taking the piss now doctor?” I snapped.

“Not at all. Just posing a relevant question aligned to your desire for control.”

“Listen doctor, don’t project your problems in that department onto me, okay?”

Dr E remained silent. I copied him an just sat in silence glaring at him. How dare he suggest I would lose my potency? What an idiot. He ought to know better than that by now. I kept staring at him waiting for his next clever remark but he just stared back. This stand-off went on for a few minutes but I knew he would look away first. I maintained my baleful gaze as the fury at his impertinence coursed through me and then he lowered his eyes to his black and red notepad and made some more notes. I had won.

“Not so cocky now are we doctor?” I muttered under my breath.

Learn more about the narcissist’s view of sex in the forthcoming book Sex and the Narcissist – available January 2016

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Always On Your Mind

“He is always in my mind.”

“Try as I might I just cannot get him out of my head.”

“I can’t stop thinking about him.”

I am sure such comments or similar have been made by you at some point about the narcissist in your life. We have this formidable capability to get into your head and remain there for a long time which evokes bittersweet reactions from you at best and utter miserable frustration at worst. I have written about ever presence previously, namely that ability we have to ensure that you keep thinking about us, even when you have been pushed to one side or if you have sought to go no contact. This insidious form of manipulation is pervasive and very difficult to deal with, but how is it so effective?

Like much of our effectiveness it actually comes down to you. As an empathic individual you are much more susceptible to our method of remaining in your mind which is achieved by encoding. Since you care about others and take an interest in the thoughts, actions and well-being of other people, you have been wired to take on board stimuli from other people in a far more effective manner than others. Take my kind for example. We are so focussed on ourselves and what we need that we are not wired to be especially encoded by what others do. Our minds are nearly impervious to the actions of others. It is as if they are so full of what we do and what we want that there is no room for anything or anyone else. You on the other hand are like a sponge and you soak up the words and actions of others. Combine your susceptibility with our determined application of suggestion through what we say to you and what we do for you then the outcome is a devastating form of encoding which creates powerful and near indelible memories in your mind.

Through our visual encoding of your mind, you create a vivid mental picture and this will be recalled in pin-sharp crikey vision time after time. Every detail of a particular scene will be recalled by you and it is ingrained in your mind deeply through this encoding. The more you recall it, the more it becomes ingrained as if you are wearing a groove in a piece of wood. We make particular use of music (think how often your narcissist used certain tunes to woo you and/or create  special moment) to achieve acoustic encoding. Our voice is used in this way as well by the careful selection of key phrases which will resonate with you. You always remember the things that we say because we have encoded them into your mind. Similar encoding occurs in respect of taste and scents as well as tactile encoding. Accordingly this quintet of senses is assailed by all the things that we say and do in order to achieve this encoding. We create powerful memories so that you have no option other than to recall them and with that comes the emotional attachment. You will remember so much of what you have done with us compared to say what you have done with family, friends and colleagues. You will recall more memories, in greater detail and more often when they involved us because of this deliberate encoding.

You might think this was enough in terms of the efficacy of this method of affecting you, but it does not end there. Most narcissists are male and thus it follows that the majority of victims are female. In general terms, women remember events better than men (men have better spatial memories) and therefore you are genetically pre-disposed to remember all those occasions and dates you spent with us in such detail. Females remember pleasant memories in better detail than men, thus this is a further reinforcement of why you can summon up such powerful memories of the golden period and why it hurts you so much. Conversely, in general terms, men remember unpleasant events better than women who tend to recall them in a ‘blurred’ manner. This is why despite the abuse you have suffered the golden period memories tend to triumph. It is not the case with everyone, admittedly, but generally this holds good. Add to this the fact that women’s memories retain more of their potency through the advancement of age than men and you will see why your memories of us are so difficult to shake. Not only do we specifically encode your minds, which are primed to accept this more than other people, your gender also makes you more susceptible to retaining these detailed and vivid memories of the when everything felt wonderful.

These memories are deeply ingrained and very hard to dismiss and remove, even with professional help. Combine this efficacy with the fact we leave you exhausted and broken, it is little wonder you cannot shift us from your minds. Everyone knows how difficult it is to think straight when you are tired. Little wonder then that we always loom large in your mind when you have been exhausted and shattered by our behaviour.

These memories of the golden period are massively powerful and all of the above means that for someone like you, you will often think of them and suffer the emotion that is linked to them .It is a devastating weapon in our armour. Pretty memorable eh?

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