How the Narcissist Turns A Trait Against You

 HOW THE NARCISSISTTURNS A TRAITAGAINST YOU.jpg

The chime of my ‘phone alerted me to the arrival of a text. There was nothing unusual in that. Scores arrive daily and this rises to beyond a hundred and more when the glorious seduction has commenced of a fresh, prime target. I looked over with half-interest to my ‘phone and see a name which attracted a greater level of interest. It is from Jane. An ex. One of the many exes. I stopped what I was doing and reached for my ‘phone and opened up the message.

“It would be 2 years today x”

A flame rose inside of me at this sudden provision of fuel. Even better it was unsolicited. Goodness me, would it have been two years? How time flies. The power flowed, generated by this welcome dollop of fuel. Dear Jane, always the one for remembering dates. She sent me a card and a gift to mark 1 month together. She pole-danced for me to commemorate one month since we first had sex (no the pole-dance and the card and gift were on different dates, just in case you were wondering. I am a gentleman after all). She sent a card to remind me that is was three months since our first kiss, a month since I first stayed overnight at her house, six months since we first set eyes on another. I used to call her the Chronicler for her ability to remember the anniversary of certain key moments in our relationship. At first I was suitable impressed by her memory and power of recall but then I realised that she had assistance. On one particular occasion I was having a good look around her house whilst she was out, opening draws, cupboards and so on in order to learn more about this enticing individual who I had seduced and in the process of this trawl I found a diary. At the rear she had a list of key moments in our relationship with the date written next to it. First date, first kiss, first time we had sex, first time pet name was used, first weekend away, first “I love you” and so on. Each milestone, from the trivial to the fundamental had been carefully written in her neat hand-writing (she always wrote with a Mont Blanc fountain pen – something which I liked until I decided to bend the nib one day after she accused me of forgetting her mother’s birthday. I didn’t forget. I deliberately did not remember). Each moment, each occasion had been carefully committed to the rear of this diary and beside it the date inserted as well. I was impressed and as I sat reading it, I felt the fuel of her dedication and admiration pouring over me. She was not there to do it but I knew from reading those neat entries just how much we meant to her, just how important I was and the fuel flowed. I remember sitting on her bed clasping the leather bound diary and realising that Jane was meeting my expectations and that I had such high hopes for her. The reminders and commemorations kept coming. She never forgot anything. Naturally the more traditional anniversaries – birthdays, Christmas and so forth were addressed and not only for me, but close friends, family and even Matrinarc.

Of course this slavish devotion to the recollection of events could not go unused by me. When she fell from grace and her denigration and devaluation began I would always send her a reminder written in black ink (using a superior Mont Blanc fountain pen) on a crisp piece of thick white paper inserted into a stylish small envelope. I would leave these reminders on her pillow, on her car seat, under her windscreen wiper, in her bag, on her laptop and so forth.

–         1 week since I last spoke to you –

–         2 months since our first argument –

–         5 days since I rang you –

–         A month since we last made love –

–         A week since the last silent treatment –

–         Three months since I took you anywhere

I have no idea if the timing was entirely correct with some of them, it was the effects I was after. Sometimes she would telephone me and question why I had done this. If it was during a silent treatment I said nothing but listened, allowing her strained tones to fuel me. Other times I would just stare at her and then snarl an insult, causing her to jump and her fearful look would naturally provide me with further fuel. On other occasions she did not manage to contact me but it did not matter because I knew how she would be responding as I used the very thing she liked to engage as an endearing gesture from her to me in our relationship, against her. We like to take the wonderful and then batter it, rust it, twist it and warp it so it resembles something else entirely and this act of defiling is powerful indeed in its effect.

Soon I accelerated their use at one stage having them delivered through her door on a daily basis.

–         One day since I realised I hate you –

–         Two days since I realised I hate you –

–         Three days since I realised I hate you –

–         Four days since I realised I hate you –

–         Five days since I realised I hate you

–         Six days since I realised I hate you –

–         Seven days since I realised I hate you –

–         Eight days since I realised I hate you –

–         Nine days since I realised I hate you –

–         Ten days since I realised I hate you –

–         I don’t hate you. I love you –

That last note was a highly effective respite hoover which had her call me straight away and I answered straight away and her sobbed relief poured over me with such potency, marvellous fuel that it was. Once again by using the very tool she deployed in our relationship I was able to bend it and her to my will.

Eventually she was cast aside, the new prospect of Andrea having come into my sights and dear Jane was removed, not even afforded the courtesy of being a memory. That is until that text message arrived.

A foolish move on her part to reach out to me in this way but having received the text, I knew that it was inevitable she would have done it and indeed I know that when it is 3 years, 5 years or 10 years she will keep sending these reminders. Her memory had been conditioned this way. Notwithstanding the pain it will invariably cause her she wanted me to know that she remembered still. The addition of a single ‘x’ was the green light which told me that my follow-up hoover (of course there would be one) will succeed and she would respond to it. Dangerous to apply those kisses. She had entered my sphere of influence. I did not want her back, I was busy with Andrea and that seduction, but this reminder told me that there was fuel just waiting to be collected. All I had to decide was how I was going to go about. There was no need to be malign about it, a benign follow-up hoover would work but in what form and for how long? That was what then occupied my mind as once again I remembered dear Jane and her delicious fuel. So good of her to remind me.

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22 Comments

  1. that’s just childish. all of it. i know more women who would have laughed it off than women who would have stayed.

  2. Just curious HG what would happen when we start applying these tactics when the n starts to Hoover in return I mean after enduring so much hell from one when we return the same tactics after knowing these secrets how does it affect them rage, fuel, etc just curious! Does it affect the n if you were a IPPS that at one time gave great supply begging crying etc for them to stop! Does it affect your kind at all? Or is no contact better! It’s just cruel some of the shit I endured and at times want to get even if he try’s to Hoover again I know he will!

    1. You should always aim for no contact. Do not mimic our manipulations (other than when it is a silent treatment) as it will not work.

  3. The narcissist looks for the objects traits and habits and uses those against them at every juncture. How it affects you emotionally, for positive or negative fuel and how they can use that to manipulate and control which one you supply when they need it is the crux of the game. Whether in the golden period as the narcissist chooses and mirrors certain traits to ceate a false bond with the object. “We have so much in common” (blah, blah), in devaluation as they point out your faults, etc…, or when you enter the sphere of evil. It doesn’t matter. It is insidious and applies to EVERY SINGLE moment of interaction with a narcissist. Whether in person, indirectly. or remotely. Knowledge IS power. The more knowledge a narcissist has of the object the more power he will have over them. There are only truthfully two red flags; if it is much too pertfect and good to be true, it isn’t. Get out. The first time you lie to yourself. Get out.

  4. I must say at least you are honest about who you are and what you have done. My ex narc will not admit to anything regarding himself. Everything is twisted into him always being the victim in every situation. He will not take ANY personal responsibility for anything that he does. If he can’t twist something so that he is the victim, he will say that someone else made him do what he did. He was NEVER accountable, never faced up to anything, never took personal responsibility, always made excuses. Sometimes he deliberately set himself up to be a victim, so that he could tell everyone about it, thereby gaining FUEL. It was to his own detriment as he was been repeatedly ripped off just to get sympathy. Now thats desperation!

  5. It’s trauma bonding. “Trauma bonding occurs as the result of cycles of abuse in which the intermittent reinforcement of reward and punishment creates powerful emotional bonds that are resistant to change.” Same method is used in cults.

  6. This is the first time I have ever laughed at your blog HG, I just can’t believe how evil you are. I don’t even know why I’m laughing, I suppose because she made it so easy for you, and I too had a diary and can relate. Now seeing it from another angle, I can see how easy I made it too. We are so innocent and stupid. Sins of the empath no more.

  7. It’s like “we” (former me; she can’t come to the phone now) would fall for this. The hate hate hate love deal. It must have a chemical reaction. No scientific proof needed. But the potency simply reading it made me go (duh her initially) then f u. And finally. This is like fission, or fusion or whatever chemical (physicist blah) force causing an explosion after multiple implosions. Stab stab stab stab. Love. Makes the bleeding stop. Which of course “you” caused. The bleeding and the tourniquet. What a hero. Savior. Not. Conned again by our emotional thinking. And scrambled brains like shaken baby syndrome. So. Much. Truth. Eye opening and blinding. But what do empaths
    want? The Truth. How do we get it? Light. It burns.

  8. This reminds me why it is so important to remain NC. Thinking about giving him any fuel makes me sick. Thanks for the reminder.

  9. This reminds me a lot of my last narc. He would hoover me or sometimes id send him a text out of curiousity how he was. Over a span of years i lost interest bc i seen him for what he was and lost all attraction to him. I was no longer interested. He continues to send me emails which remain unopened not bc of no contact but bc itd be a waste of time i no longer am interested. I know what he is and where hes going which isnt far in the way of relationships.
    The moral of the story is he showed me who he was and i permanently disengaged. Dont always bet on getting those text from the victim bc e eventually a lot of us move on.

  10. That’s so cruel and mean! I got really mad just reading it. But thank you, it’s really explicit and explains a lot.

    1. Indeed it does and as you know, there is no sugar poured on it here. It is the brutal truth, but it will set you free.

      1. Thanks HG!
        I don’t need a sugar from you.
        I want just the truth.
        I don’t see anything brutal here…

      2. We do want the truth, HG. It’s hardest for me to take when I see it spelled out like this though – as someone else has experienced it. I want to rescue the person.

        You continuing to talk about us being “appliances” to narcissists is another brutal truth. That is so offensive, which is why you need to keep saying it.

    2. I wanted to strangle him when I read this brought back for a second the feelings I had when I was actively fantasizing about murdering my narc I had worked out a 100 percent foolproof way of killing him without ever getting caught thank god he was in another country at the time and no I’m not homicidal anymore but whenever he posts about how he treats woman I want to reach my hands through my tablet screen and ring his neck just saying the truth no sugar coating

        1. Lol it wouldnt work here he lives in a Muslim country the streets leading to his home are literally dark narrow alleys with no lighting his habit is to return home between 2 and 215 in the morning all I would have to do is put on my hijab niqab and burka my entire face and body would be concealed minus my eyes I could approach him with knife concealed he would not be alarmed I would be sure there were no witnesses houses do not have windows there only outdoor areas with high walls I could quickly stab him and disappear into a nearby alley he would likely bleed to death before he was found yeah I sound like a psychopath but this was a fantasy I had no intention of carrying it out plus I have a child and was not about to risk her having no mom or waste a couple of grand to go kill someon e even if someone saw me there would be no way of knowing who I am every woman looks identical

  11. My hair stood up reading this one. How accurate it protrays the experience being ensnared….
    Tactics.

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