The Crying Game – Part Four

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The production of tears and the emotion associated with such production has always been a source of fascination for me. I have shared with you my experiences and observations concerning pain, upset, pride and joy. The final part of this quartet concerns another occasion when the tears begin to flow. Just in the same way that I first witnessed and felt the power that I obtained from causing someone to shed tears of joy when I was at university, it was at this ancient seat of learning that I found another way of causing those tears to fall.

A later girlfriend who arose, after Trish (from Part Three) fell by the wayside, was Anita. A vivacious young lady, with long blonde hair, bright in outlook and intelligence and with an excellent sense of humour we had a rip-roaring time together for some seven months or so and then came the summer. We both returned to the places where we lived, about a hundred and fifty miles apart so not a huge journey even on this small island. Anita had taken a job and the hours varied considerably from week to week so that I did not hear from her as often as I wanted. This concerned me and coincided with an interest in a close friend who I had known from sixth form called Lucy who was also at university and had also returned to our home town for the summer. We began to spend quite a lot of time together and I found that her attention to me put into sharp focus the less attentive approach from Anita. I knew she was busy with the summer job that she had taken but despite this knowledge, I resented her failure to keep in touch with me as often as she had promised at the end of the academic year. When she did telephone I was monosyllabic with my answers and when I decided I did want to talk I began to tell her about all the things that Lucy and I were doing together. The walks through the countryside, the book we planned to write together, the discussions about our forthcoming careers, going swimming, going boating and so on. I knew that Anita was trying to hide any concerns about this sudden and seemingly intense friendship which had sprung up with Lucy, but she could not mask the disappointment that showed in her voice when I launched into a lengthy monologue about my day with Lucy. I found the sensation of power which arose when I talked about Lucy and when Anita tried to sound interested but the nervousness in her voice betrayed her and showed she was worried by this burgeoning friendship. Good. So she should be nervous. She should have been more attentive and been a good girlfriend. Nothing physical had happened between Lucy and I but that was just a question of time. In fact, I was pleased that nothing had happened in that regard because I could maintain that my relationship with Lucy was indeed one of friendship and it provided me with the moral high ground to cast aspersions and denigrate Anita if she tried to suggest there was anything untoward occurring.

This situation continued and each time we spoke I could tell Anita was concerned and was maintaining a brave front. In one telephone conversation she commented,

“I know you spend a lot of time with Lucy, HG, but that does not bother me at all.”

There was something new when she said this though. A defiance. I did not take kindly to that. I noticed that the usual powerful sensations that I felt during this telephone conversation were absent.

I decided that I would not take any calls from Anita after that. I would refuse to emerge from my room as my father shouted up to me that Anita was wanting to talk to me. I would hear him making excuses on my behalf, that I was asleep, or I had gone out and he had not realised. As this silent treatment extended into a second week, with Anita still telephoning on a daily basis, my father began to engage in conversations with her. I stood on the landing above listening to him in the hallway below trying to reassure her and assuage her concerns. I recall standing there, hands on the bannister, feeling the sensation of power washing over me as I thought of her anxious and worried, repeatedly calling and discussing this ongoing situation with my father. I know he liked Anita. He had met her in previous holidays. My father liked most people and saw the best in people. People liked him as well which often irritated my mother in the extreme, but this is not her tale. Not this time.

My father would argue Anita’s case for her, outlining that it was not very fair to not speak to her and that she was clearly worried that she had upset me in some way but did not know why. I thanked for father for his concerns and his attempt to broker a peace but this was between Anita and me. He pushed it no further with me, he knew by now better than to do so, but he continued to entertain Anita’s morning, afternoon or evening call (dependent on her shifts) in order to keep giving her hope that I would “snap out of it” or “come to my senses” as he put it.

We reached the third week of the silent treatment. I was enjoying myself. I was gaining daily attention from Lucy who called on me every day in order to ensure we did something together. I had no need to try to impress her any longer. She was hooked. I was also gaining the attention from Anita as her telephone calls and consultations with my father continued. Sometimes I was in and I listened, sometimes I was out and my father left me a note saying Anita had called. It was satisfying.

Into this third week, on a warm summer’s evening when I had returned from a day out in the countryside with Lucy, there came the chime of the old doorbell being activated. I was alone in the house and made my way to the partition door and stepped into the porch. The large wooden door had a diamond pane of glass set in it which enabled me to see who the visitor was. It was Anita. She had turned to look behind her, no doubt enjoying the wonderful view across the fields as they were lit up still by the sun. I ducked back so she could not see me. The power began to surge through me again. She had travelled to see me, without warning and knowing that I was not speaking to her. I noticed she had even appeared with a small suitcase as well in the hope of staying. She clearly did not want to let go. I was delighted by this. She had learned hadn’t she that she had been failing in her attentiveness to me? By administering this silence, something I had learned from dearest mother, I had caused her to realise her error and up her efforts in respect of me, resulting in her disrupting her working schedule and travelling to me.

To have her do this showed just how much I mattered to her and also how effective giving her the silent treatment was. I punched the air in delight with the powerful sensation still rushing over me, but there was more. I let her ring again and then I opened the door. I stood looking down at her as she stood on the second step. She looked at me, eyes wide in expectation but a nervousness about her too. She said nothing as I look at her.

“Hello Anita,” I smiled, “you have no idea how happy I am to see you on this doorstep again, my goodness I have missed you like you wouldn’t believe.”

I expected her to laugh, to smile but instead she burst into tears, her attractive face scrunching up as the tears flowed.

“What is it?” I asked completely foxed by this response.

She stepped forward and placed her arms about me. I reciprocated as she squeezed me tight, great wracking sobs coursing through her.

“Oh HG, I thought you had had enough of me, that you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Of course not, I er, just needed to do some thinking about things and it made me realise that er, it’s you that I want.”

She lifted her head and looked straight at me.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

She started to cry again, a smile breaking through the continuing tears.

“HG, you have no idea what a relief it is to hear you say that to me.”

It was then that I understood. This tearful display was borne out of relief. Relief at having the silence broken. Relief at being held in my arms again. Relief that our relationship remained intact. The sensation was electrifying and I learned just how powerful the effect of seeing tears of relief was. I revelled in knowing that by my grace and decision I could grant her access to me once again and her relief poured from her, invigorating and edifying me. That moment, like so many other moments of realisation has stayed with me and I have used the power to cause those tears of relief to flow and the consequent fuel that arises to good effect on many occasions since.

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38 thoughts on “The Crying Game – Part Four”

  1. Mr. Tudor, I’m sorry if this question is intrusive, but I’m just curious, what kind of empath do you think your father was? He seemed like a really kind person, but somewhat an enabler to your mother from the way that I understand your stories.

  2. I wouldn’t have tolerated that triangulation bullshit. Another woman on the scene merely pisses me the fuck off and I would be gone so fast it would make narc’s head spin!

    Ex narc did triangulate me with a magazine with Amber Rose on the cover, naked as the day she was born, left on his sofa table for me to see. It pissed me off, so I retaliated by displaying a magazine with Idris Elba on the cover on my dining room table, as if I’d just gotten done drooling over it.

    Ha! Ex narc was very fair, and actually had the nerve to mention that he thought fair skinned guys were my attraction. I told him he was an aberration! I just laughed and laughed – – inside of course!

    Torture me and I’ll torture you back!

    Sigh.

    But because I’m human and he’s just an injured sub-human I probably hurt in the human way, of which he was incapable. Still, narcissistic injury really sucks according to what I’ve read of your work, HG, so … I smile bigly! Hee hee

  3. I have a hard time understanding how you were allowed to keep not taking her calls. Did your father not give you an ultimatum? I can’t imagine a father talking to the girl and making excuses for you. I think you would have benefited by what we call “tough love”. Was your father afraid of you? Was he afraid of confrontation in general? He obviously had empathy with the girl, why didn’t he step in and correct your behavior?

    1. You will be able to learn about that WS2 from future work. You will be able to draw your own conclusions from more information I provide in future works which you will find more satisfying than me just answering now.

      1. Thank you, HG. It’s none of my business anyway. I thought after I sent that comment that I didn’t mean to disparage your father. I was all fired up, though, thinking about it. You know how we empaths get fired up over perceived injustice.

        If you would, be sure to point out when you advertise a book on the blog if it’s a newly published one. That would really help me not to miss any new ones.
        Thanks again.

      2. They are always advertised as posts WS2. You are entitled to your view about my father, I recognise you approach matters in a balanced manner.

  4. I have read all of these crying game articles and the readers comments……I am going to see the doctor tomorrow as I think my tear ducts are blocked! Diva

  5. HG is such a git. Sorry can’t help it. Poor Anita and Lucy. I know it’s not the point but I feel the intense painful emotions suffered under narcs’ control, triangulation and silent treatment. Grr..

  6. I did comment below already but wanted to say thank you HG for writing so bluntly from your perspective. I’ve been reading up on NPD during these last months of my relationship searching for understanding to help myself and him. Since the explosive ending only a week ago I came across your contributions to it all & it’s enlightened me in a way that nothing else has. It’s made a huge difference to look at everything from this perspective. So thank you very much.

  7. Wow! Ditto the person who said this reminds them of a story their ex narc told them. Mine has mentioned how he was always the nice guy friend girls would talk to. And then there was some instance where he wasn’t & things changed for him. This thing is hitting me as he first told me when we moved in together, and couple times again recently which turned out to be the final episode of several on/off cycles over 2 yrs. This last run being the most brutal and cruel experience with verbal and physical abuse to new proportions, public and private humiliation and psychological warfare on both sides. I was able to make a stealthy escape from our prior episode & it blindsided him. He had the web weaved quite nicely but I got so tired of the continued and escalating degradation that something in me snapped and to save my own life I started subtly implementing my own mind games to create an opening for escape. It took awhile and everything I had. But I did it. It was hard even then as I still physically craved him. Ultimately, he knows that’s my weakness. Well, he got me to come back for more. Stupid me. I had my own place and made it clear I wasn’t returning as a girlfriend & he could do whatever he wants. Oh how I thought I had the bases covered. Things went so well & it appeared he wasn’t doing other stuff.. I stayed at his place more & more. Then he instigated an instance using new tools I hadn’t yet experienced where he hit me & acted like I was hitting him. And planned for it to end in my dramatic hysterical departure & to be heard by friends staying over. During he said “just leave, I don’t want this”. Exact words I’d used with him before. His friend came in because of the chaos & it stopped. I told him I’m leaving but not this minute without calmly gathering my things & not in the dramatic fashion you wanted. The way he looked at me with surprise just for a second was so validating. See, I’d been researching all this & it was obvious what he was doing. Also obvious was he was ready to discard me so he must have the replacement ready to go. He said he wanted me to stay ..I went back to my place more but we seemed to work on things when I was around. Events turned out that he was gonna have a few weeks gap in moving so I let him come stay at my place during that time. This was the worst thing ever and I knew it was a bad idea. my place was far enough that noone came by often. He had me isolated and the mask came off. He could do whatever he wanted to me and no one would be around to see. The verbal and physical bullying started immediately greater than ever followed by more intensity as time went on. He came and never left. He wouldn’t leave. He terrorized and tortured me physically and psychologically like nothing I’d ever been able to imagine. He was unrecognizable. He changed in ways I can’t explain and it was bizarre and brutal.
    What led me here was that during these last month’s at my place he mentioned that story about how he’d always been the nice guy & then he changed / stopped being nice …. That’s when something ignited in him. It’s like that memory of when he first recognized how the sweet torment from another person gave him fuel! That’s the moment he knew, that’s the moment he gained the knowledge. And he’s been on a forever quest for more and more of it. He changed into someone I’d never seen from the moment he got here and it just escalated as the weeks went on. It’s bizarre to me that he mentioned that story 2 times as I’d only heard it that once when we moved in together. Hes currently in jail but that’s some miracle. He manipulated police also to think I was the problem. They had to visit my address many times and finally a few of them sorta saw something off about him. Through some luck and some planning on my part utilizing additional knowledge I had, he is in jail now. Hell be getting out though. Hes been told not to contact me or come around but he’s not one for rules or obeying the law. He told me that “I won”????? What? I won what? We were playing some game???

  8. HG, doesn’t it bother you that one day you will look around and there will be no-one there crying over you or laughing with you?

      1. Umm… I was refererring to while you were alive and kicking, but no matter. Thanks for responding.

      2. Hg have u ever in your life had a protective feeling toward a girlfriend like u couldn’t stand the thought of u or anyone else hurting her

    1. People mistake and think Narcs aren’t protective. Both of my Narcs were very protective and if anyone spoke to me inappropriately, he let them know about it. Do ing something to me was the same as doing something to them bevause I was an extension of them

  9. I’ve read this before it reminds me of my narc telling me about something that happened to him. That’s why I believe some narcs just stumble across this stuff and repeat it, they don’t really scheme it when they are young , not even the greaters. It’s trial and error . My narcs first girlfriend , first love ha ha ❤️❤️🙄. Was very young and I don’t think that ready for a serious relationship, narc on the other hand was older but an immature idiot. Obviously this would have been the first time that he experienced what he was with out knowing , but this relationship put him through the ringer, this girl always had the upper hand . Not on purpose just a case of , who cares less has more control. When this ended after 7 years of off on off on. Enter primary source number 2 , she came onto him , he wasn’t that keen , she chased , he withdrew, he came back when it suited , she cared more . This went on for 5 years off and on , this time he cared less he had the control plus throw in a dollop of no conscience mentally and emotionally unstable , damaged by first girlfriend so a victim is born 😇. Hey presto the narc has found his tool kit with out ever knowing it !!
    And we all lived happily ever after 😱

  10. Mr Tudor,
    Speaking of emotions, can your kind laugh? I mean really laugh, like the way you share a laughter with someone, and you laugh so hard that you have trouble breathing?
    I am trying to hear the sound of the laughter to my ULN, but I don’t think I have ever heard it.

      1. “It can be faked” – so you have never really experienced a laugh like that? If not, it’s too bad because it’s such a great feeling!

      2. My narc i know for certain fakes laughs. I can tell his real laugh vs his fake laugh. His real laugh is usually over a misfortune or something inappropriate or if ive retorted with negative fuel which isnt often and its a evil kind of laugh. His fake one hes been doing more since i told him how much i loved hearing him laugh. Now he puts it on a lot and sounds so phoney it makes me laugh. Its definitely faked. A prime example how narcs can do whatever it is they think we want or brings them fuel.

  11. I have used the power to cause those tears of relief to flow and the consequent fuel that arises to good effect on many occasions since.

    Such fools we are. How many times he walked through my door after being away from me for a length of time and all he had to do was shrug his shoulders and smile and I would hug and kiss him until he could hardly breathe. I’m sure if I could have seen his face from the other side, he would have had a sardonic grin on his face. 😡

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