Perfect Sense (To Us)

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“Why do you spend so much time looking at porn?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. I know you do.”

“No you don’t know, you don’t know me at all, that’s part of the problem, if you took some time to know me, you would understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh that’s right, pretend you do not know what I am talking about. Absolutely typical. It is any wonder I get so pissed off with you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“There you go again.”

“What are you on about?”

“Look, repeating it won’t make it any different. You always do this when you are in the wrong.”

“Hang on, me in the wrong? We were talking about you and your massive porn addiction.”

“Only because you are trying to deflect from what is really going on.”

“No I am not.”

“You just did it again.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. Every time I try and point something out to you, you do this, you will never accept you are at fault. You always try to blame me. It is unfair and quite frankly troubling.”

“Wait, wait, this is all wrong.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Sorry?”

“At last an apology.”

“No, I wasn’t apologising.”

“No I should have known shouldn’t I? You don’t do apologies do you, you are so holier than thou, always so bloody right. Jesus, I suppose your crap doesn’t stink either does it?”

“There’s no need to be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that, crude and vulgar.”

“I was just expressing myself.”

“You don’t have to do it like that.”

“Oh so now I am not allowed to voice an opinion.”

“I didn’t say that. Stop twisting things.”

“Ha, you have some cheek haven’t you, accusing me of twisting things? You do it all the time.”

“When? When have I ever done that?”

“Last week, you tried to make to make out that I was at fault for staying out.”

“Staying out when?”

“Last week.”

“I know, but which day?”

“It was night.”

“Sorry, I mean which night?”

“Blimey, another sorry, mind you, you probably didn’t mean that one either did you?”

“Will you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Twisting things around, making out I am saying things when I am not.”

“But you are.”

“No I am not; you are putting words in my mouth.”

“You did say sorry just then.”

“Yes I know, but it wasn’t an apology….”

“Oh I know that; I have learned better than to expect you to be sorry for the way you treat me.”

“Why are you saying that? Look, please, just stop for a minute, I want to talk to you, have a sensible conversation.”

“Are you saying I cannot have a sensible conversation? Oh that is just charming. I am not the one getting worked up and…”

“Please stop it.”

“Have you heard yourself? You keep cutting across me and now you are telling me when I can and cannot speak.”

“No I am not.”

“Another denial. I swear you forget what you have just said or are you doing it on purpose? Trying to mess with my head are you? That is just sick.”

“Me mess with your head. Jesus Christs! You are the king of the head fuckers!”

“Here she goes, it is all coming out now, she cannot have a normal conversation, oh no, she has to be always right, always high and mighty, she cannot do anything wrong can she?”

“Look, let’s stop this.”

“Well you started it and now when I defend myself you cannot hack it.”

“You are making this about something else.”

“No that’s your tactic.”

“No it is not.”

“It is, you start talking about something and then you turn it into an attack against me.”

“I just wanted to discuss your porn addiction.”

“No you didn’t, you want to wind me up, make me angry and when it doesn’t work you keep on and on at me.”

“No, please, I am just trying to talk to you about something important, I cannot stand it when this happens.”

“When what happens?”

“This.”

“What are you on about?”

“Oh God, it is so frustrating, why won’t you just shut up for five minutes and listen to me, is that too much to ask?”

“Why on earth should I when you talk to me like that?”

“Sorry, sorry, I am just….look, please,”

“Now you are not making any sense.”

“It is just impossible to talk to you.”

“There you go again, always blaming me when you are the one that cannot even form a sentence properly. I am sick of you treating me like this, telling me when I can and cannot speak, accusing me of things that I haven’t done, it isn’t right or fair.”

“I am not doing those things, please, stop saying I do.”

“But you do, there is something wrong with you, you cannot seem to see it.”

“What do you mean?”

“All this, the endless accusations, the going around in circles and it is not just me that thinks it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Other people have noticed it.”

“Like who?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to say.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t accuse me of doing something but not tell me who said it.”

“There you go again, telling me what I can and cannot do.”

“Christ you are so infuriating.”

“And now the insults, nothing changes. You always do this.”

“No I don’t.”

“Oh yes you do. You never listen to me, you always try to pin the blame on me, I can list so many times in the past when you have done it.”

“No I haven’t, have I?”

“Not so sure now are you?”

“It is you, you are messing with my head, I cannot think straight when you play these games.”

“I am not playing games, you do. You started this. I was just watching television on my own and you start up with your usual evening attack on me. It is outrageous the way you treat me. You have the audacity to suggest that I am messing with your head, good Lord, your head is already messed up.”

“No it is not.”

“Oh yes it is, you should see somebody. I don’t even think you realise what you are saying half the time.”

“Yes I do; I am sure I do.”

“You see, you are not sure, you perhaps don’t mean to do it, but you do, you keep accusing me of doing the things that you do and it is unfair. There must be something wrong with you. You need to see a doctor before this gets out of hand.”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

“I think it is for the best.”

“Honestly, no I am fine, I just feel like I am wading through treacle at times.”

“I suppose that is what it is like when you have a mental condition.”

“I don’t have one.”

“You know people who have usually think they do not, that is part of the condition as well. I can tell by the look on your face that this is surprising you but it shouldn’t, I have put up with this for months, you are lucky I have not left you.”

“Left me?”

“Yes, you are intolerable at times.”

“Me? But, but….”

“Sssh, don’t make it any worse, we will get you some help.”

“I don’t need any help.”

“It’s okay, we will see a doctor for you, I will explain everything to him. You need some help and then maybe we can get through this.”

“There is nothing wrong with me.”

“That is what they always say.”

“No, there isn’t anything wrong with me.”

“Look, there is, there is no point denying it.”

“No it is you, not me.”

“Oh here we go again, I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought you might be seeing some sense at last. I am not sitting around listening to you blaming me for your shortcomings. I am going out for a few hours, use the time to sort yourself out. I will be back when I am back.”

“What on earth just happened? That was nonsense.”

“Made perfect sense to me. Bye.”

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4 thoughts on “Perfect Sense (To Us)”

  1. I use to read these posts when I got to missing the N really bad, it gave me a jolt back into reality and helped with the H vs. H. Then I realised those times mostly kicked in with hormones. Now when I know the hormone time is coming, I make myself read the posts. Anything and everything I found helpful during the discard and smear campaign, over a year ago; I come back to. He tried his Hoover games a couple times since, but because everything I read jived with all my gut said, I found I had very little to no patience when he pulled the same crap. And extremely low patience for anyone else playing the same games. I have become very outspoken when I feel the slightest game playing or challenge to my well being. I joined online dating site and had a date lined up but the person pushed every button and threw every red flag and I without one ounce of guilt blocked him and did not go to meet him. I still struggle with the occasional missing the N feelings and maybe I got it all wrong and he really did love me, but like I said I found it all relates to the timing of my hormones and that’s when I read posts about word salad and even the one titled “I can’t do this anymore”, and I am acutely reminded of the horrific moments of pain N caused and excruciating frustration and stress that tore me mentally, physically, spiritually and financially. Now I struggle with the rage inside I have for N that washes over me now and then when he enters my sphere, where for the most part I had gone good stretches of not caring much he exists. If I wake up and the missing him or the rage is on my mind, I read posts and blogs till I’m gorged, till something I read hits that one little feeling left for the man and smashes it out of existence. If I had to make a picture of what it reminds me of, its like each memory or thing said between N and I, is painted as a star in my night sky and each time I read about narcissism or pray for my healing and work it out inside, that star burns out. I’m looking forward to filling my night sky with stars and I have been with revisting old familiar places from my youth, spending more time with my mom and sister, doing different things for myself, and planning my future. No contact helps me keep going forward, and making new stars extinguishing bad ones.

  2. Ughh!! That’s so infuriating I get worked up even reading it; she should’ve poured a bottle of wine over you and left (the part with the wine was always a fantasy of mine; I never dared to do it to my narcissist, I didn’t even dare to speak back like she does here..).

    Our confusing and exhausting conversations went more along the lines of the big relationship theme. He always wanted to talk about our love story; when we met, what we did each time we saw each other, what I was wearing, what we ate, at which hotel we stayed. On and on it went and it was an interrogation of course; he set me a trap to see if I would come out with something that wasn’t true; something he could interpret as me being unfaithful to him. I have a good memory and being in love certainly helps it along but after two years together even I couldn’t remember it all even though I vigorously learned to keep track. And still, even if I did remember, he just went ahead and distorted the truth, made things up to see if I would go along with them; which put me through pure hell because I then knew there was no right answer. If I told him the events he recounted were not true he would accuse me of not being in love with him since I couldn’t remember such a special occasion; and if I went along with his version of the truth he would turn it around to tell me of course it didn’t happen, but maybe I remember it so distinctly because I did it with someone else. I could never win and I just curled up into a frightened ball in the end.

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