You’ve Changed

 

 

You’ve changed and I don’t know why. Have I done something wrong? Have I done something to offend you or upset you? Why have you changed? You aren’t interested in me anymore. Once upon a time you would sit in rapt attention as I explained things to you, as I told you about the things I had done. The things which mattered to me. I thought you liked them too. You seemed interested and it was a genuine interest as you asked me questions and admired me for what I told you about. Do you remember those conversations? I do, although I must admit there are days when they seem such a distant memory to what we have now that I wonder if I made them up or dreamt them. Those afternoons where we lay in bed, the world so far away from us as we held one another and made plans. The world was ours to conquer wasn’t it? We made such grand plans, you and I, with nothing to stop us or hold us back. Except ourselves. How have we come to be so far apart? Where did it go wrong? How did these changes happen? What caused them? We were united as one. We did not know where one of us started and where the other ended, we were so entwined. I was happy. I thought you were too. You seemed happy. Tell me you were happy.

We did everything together. I never wanted to be anywhere other than your side. You completed me. I completed you. Two halves at long last united. Two lost souls who were wandering through the wilderness and then we found one another and all became wonderful. I did not dare to believe it was happening at first. After so many had failed, those who offered so much yet turned out to be pretenders with nothing but failure dripping from those promising lips. How I yearned to find the right one and just as I had almost given up all hope, along you came. My saviour. I knew from the moment I saw you that we belonged together. I could sense it and that first kiss, well, I can still feel the tingling up and down my spine even now, after all this time, after everything that has been said and done.

Why did you change? I did nothing wrong. I gave you my all. I believed in us but perhaps I have let you down, perhaps I have failed you in some way. Is there another? Is that why your eyes no longer shine when you look at me? Is that why your special smile has not been seen in these parts for too long? Do my tales and stories bore you now? Does the re-telling of these famous tales grow stale? Perhaps you have found someone else, someone who gives you what you want, someone new and exciting? Is that it? Is that why you have changed. Have you found sanctuary in the arms of another and now you have become malleable in their hands as you once were in mine? Do you remember how you said that my touch brought you to life and how you had merely existed beforehand? Do you remember taking my hand as we walked mile upon mile, never faltering from having something to say to one another. How we used to talk? Now I am lucky if I get a sentence from you as you take refuge in a monosyllabic citadel, seeming as if you are more content to reside there than with me. Your words used to flow, enchanting and marvellous and how I delighted to hear what you had to say. You could make the mundane magical and all through that perfect and delicious mouth of yours. Does that mouth still weave its magic for someone else now? Do the words feel leaden, your mouth full of dust when you talk to me? I still listen. I still give you the attention but it no longer works as it did before. I know it is not me that has changed. I never do. I can see that it is you that has changed but I am at a loss to understand why this happened. Believe me, I have spent long hours working out everything that has been said, what has not been said and all the acts and omissions. I have played them, replayed them and chopped back and forth, like some detective analysing CCTV footage in the hope of finding that one clue. That one lead, that certain something that will allow me to understand how we lost that certain something.

Is it that you want me to change? Do you need me to transform into something different? Is that it? I will be whatever you want me to be if only we can have what we once had. You have changed but if you need me to do so too, if that is what it takes to recover ourselves then I am willing. Tell me, just give me a sign, some kind of signal so I know what to do. Your wall of silence gives me no indication of what I must do in order to save us. Do you do that because all your time and attention must be saved for someone else and therefore you have none to give me? Have they come like some silent-footed thief and stolen away the person who I want more than anything on this earth? Perhaps that is what has really happened. You have not changed but rather the real you, the you that makes everything matter again, has been acquired by a pilferer. Has your soul been stolen by another? Have they taken it when I was regrettably distracted and have they now placed it in a gilded locker, far away from me, leaving me with just the husk, the image of what once was? Perhaps that is what has happened. I know you have changed but perhaps, just perhaps it was not of your doing. Maybe an outside agent has influenced you, brought about this alteration, neither seeking not obtaining our consent to this heinous act. Yes, that must be what it is for I know you would not willingly leave me. How could you? Why would you? Why leave what we have and leave me with so little when once we had so much? You have changed but it is at the sordid and filthy direction of another which gave you no choice. Did you warn me? Perhaps you did but I did not notice. Did you cry out and seek my help? Maybe you did but I was distracted and I did not hear. Tell me now, tell me how I can help you. I will do anything to win what we had back. That brilliant, loving, passionate and above all seemingly perfect union that you and I created before this change occurred.

Please, I am begging you, just tell me what I have to do. I am lost from ideas, I have no more ingenuity or guile to achieve what needs to be done and I need your assistance more than ever before. Don’t let them win, do not let those who are jealous of what we have, the green-eyed interlopers who have watched and waited for that moment to drive a wedge between us. Don’t let them make your change permanent. Fight, fight with me, for me so we can succeed and shine again. I cannot stand where we are now. The pain and weakness that sweeps me tears me apart, makes me feel disgusting and wretched. I cannot stand to be this way for it causes me such great distress as I look over to you watch you, unnoticed by you. You are not who I knew you once as. I do not recognise the person who sits across from me now. So much is alien, so much has become foreign. I don’t feel like I know you anymore. Or that I ever did.

 

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The Weapon That Is Infidelity

THE WEAPONTHAT ISINFIDELITY

Infidelity is a given when you are ensnared by one of our kind. We know that it is not pleasant for you to think of us in the arms of another, conjoined in sexual congress as we do things with them that we have done with you and then we return to you. We know that infidelity is something that someone like you abhors. You have a strong moral compass, you behave in an honest and decent fashion and expect us to do the same. That will not happen. You place considerable belief in the question of trust and the concept of monogamy. Our infidelity will manifest in lots of different ways: –

  • Having sexual liaisons with third parties, some of whom will be strangers and others will be prospects who are looking to seduce;
  • Sending and receiving text messages of a sexual content;
  • Describing online what we want to do to someone and they to you;
  • Sexual liaisons with your friends and family members;

Although I know it is scant consolation to you since ultimately it is the breach of trust which causes you the greatest pain, we do not commit acts of infidelity because we want the sex. Admittedly, the physical sensation is enjoyable but that is not the reason we are repeatedly unfaithful. In terms of our attitudes to sex and especially sex with you, read Sex and the Narcissist. For the purposes of this publication it is sufficient to explain that when are unfaithful the sex is not the primary purpose. It is the fact that in your world sex is equated with love, affection and attraction and as a consequence it serves a purpose as a formidable weapon in our hands. We use it to seduce to we can additional fuel from third parties. We use it to seduce a new prospect who will provide us with fuel and will ultimately replace you. Initially we will be covert about our infidelity as we do not wish to damage having you as our primary source and therefore our need to obtain fuel from secondary sources through infidelity will remain covered up. Over time we will continue to use sex with other people as a means of gaining additional fuel but we will also be doing this to seduce your replacement. Eventually when we start our devaluation of you, we will be far less covert concerning our extra-marital affairs and often we will not care if you know or not. Indeed, we may even flaunt a mistress in front of you for the purposes of making you try harder and to provoke you so that you provide us with additional negative fuel.

Infidelity is not about the sex. It is about fuel. It is about control. Being unfaithful to you abuses your trust, it pours scorn on the vows we have taken and makes a mockery of you and what you stand for. It is abusive behaviour and to expect a narcissist to always be faithful is like expecting the tide to stop advancing when you tell it do so. It just will not happen. Infidelity is second nature to us because the weapon that is sex is just too good not to use to gain additional fuel. If there was another device that was so potent we would use it instead. The fact that sex feels enjoyable is just a matter of nerve endings and a pleasant side-effect. For us, sex is all about using it to further our aims; gathering fuel.

We will be unfaithful to you at some point. That is a guarantee. When we are first seducing you, we will be in the process of devaluing someone else leading to his or her discard. We most likely will have withdrawn sex from the victim who we are devaluing and be having sex with you as the new object of our seduction. This does not mean that since you are the apple of our eye we will be faithful to you. We will have intermittent sex with the person who is subjected to the devaluation either as a means of giving them a short golden period again or for the purposes of extracting further fuel by subjecting them to humiliating sexual activities. We will also be courting other prospects also as well as you and therefore there is a strong likelihood we will be bedding that person also. We will, when seducing you, maintain an image of fidelity since that is what you expect. If you are conducting an affair with us, we will assure you that our current partner (whom we are devaluing) never has sex with us, we sleep in separate beds and so on. We will bemoan the fact they never have sex with us in order to draw sympathy from you as the new prospect.

By contrast, we will triangulate you as the new prospect with our current partner. We will drop heavy hints that we are being unfaithful or even actively admit it in order to further the hurt. Our rationale behind this is that monogamy is for the little people and this does not include us. That would make us less special and we cannot have that. We are entitled to seek sex outside of a relationship because this is our inalienable right to enable us to obtain fuel. We feel no guilt in doing this, we do not respect any vows we may have given to remain faithful to you and we have no qualms about coupling with someone else. The reason for this is that we have to do it and in a perverse way, the only reflection on you is that you are not giving us the fuel we need. It is not a reaction to what you look like, what you do, who your friends are or what your interests might happen to be. We will of course use them, as a method of lashing out at you should you try and question us about our infidelity because as I have explained in Manipulated we will deploy blame shifting frequently when we are under attack. It is often the case that when a partner learns of the infidelity of their partner that they will scrutinise their own conduct.

“Is it something I have done?”

This means that you will examine your own behaviour and try to improve in some way because you will want to salvage our relationship. The fact of your addiction means you do not want to let us go. You will be mightily hurt and offended by our infidelity but you will try to find some way of fixing it because that is what you like to do. If our infidelity shows any risk of causing you to depart, we will hastily reinstate the golden period, as a Preventative Hoover, if you will, to stop you departing from us. Most of the time however, because of the way you are, you blame yourselves (often because we warp your way of thinking to do this) and you try to patch things over. Your need to resolve matters results in you clinging to us notwithstanding our fidelity. Indeed, in some instances you want to prove that you are better than the person we committed our infidelity with. You want to fight to retain us and ensure that our relationship triumphs.

We will also use infidelity as a means by which to control you and make you do what we want: –

“If you gave me more attention I would not go elsewhere.”

“If you put out more often I would not have to get it from someone else.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t let yourself slide I wouldn’t stray would I?”

“If you thought more about me rather than yourself perhaps it would not have happened?”

“I won’t leave you, I should, but I will stay but some things are going to have to change.”

You are the victim. We have committed the transgression but other than when we fear you might leave us and sever our supply of fuel, we will not apologise but pin the blame on you. You will have been subjected to a succession of manipulation wiles in order to browbeat you and lower your resistance so that when we unveil our infidelity we use it as a method of getting what we want from you, namely more fuel and more control.

Infidelity is bad enough in the context of a “normal” relationship. With our kind it will always happen, it will always happen with many people and will do so repeatedly. It is a further black flag of abusive behaviour.

Tickety Boo Or Not So Pucker

TICKETY BOO OR NOT SO PUCKER

Last late Spring I had occasion to be in Scotland. A marvellous country filled with beautiful scenery and plenty of history. I realised that I was fairly near to a place where I had spent a handful of childhood holidays and decided to drive to the location to ascertain if it remained as I remembered it. I found the estate with ease and followed the single track road trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything that I remembered from our visits here. It was as I turned from the track onto a driveway that I knew I had found the correct place. I halted my vehicle and stared down the driveway. It was lined with scores of cherry trees which were in full blossom. I remembered the first time I saw this drive way and was taken aback at the vibrancy of the pink blossom and how it rained upon us as my father drove us down the driveway, the breeze displacing the blossom and causing it to cascade over us. It was quite the picture and something that I have always recalled although not as much as what came next.

We had spent a week staying at a five star hotel about an hour away from where we were now. This was at the insistence of my mother who had declared,

“If I am to rough it then I want my luxury either side of it.”

Typically a cold fury ensured until my father, as ever, conceded and agreed that we would stay for a week before and four days afterwards at the sumptuous hotel. The place we now headed to was an estate owned by a friend of my father. They had both been in the Royal Air Force together and Geraint, his friend, had removed himself to Scotland to oversee this estate. My mother had said nothing from the moment we had checked out from the hotel that morning. She sat, her icy rage chilling the interior of the car as my father drove us to the estate. My sister babbled incessantly during the journey, commenting on everything we passed in order to fill the silence. My father concentrated on the road ahead being well-used to these frozen car journeys and no doubt wondering how my mother would continue to behave once we arrived. I knew exactly what she would do and I could see my reflection as I grinned with anticipation.

Our car slowly drove along this bright pink tunnel until we halted by a gate. Set on a hillock to the right was a large and impressive house from which a figure, who I assumed was Geraint, half-walked half-jigged. His red corduroy pants housed two legs which skipped across the carefully manicured lawn that embraced the hillock, the colour contrasting with the mustard of his jumper and the green of the shirt beneath. He was as colourful as the entrance to his estate. My father lowered the window as Geraint neared and bellowed into the car,

“Hello hello, well how are you all you wonderful people, tickety boo or not so pucker?”

The rear of the car exploded into laughter at this expression. We had not heard anything like it and coupled with this multi-coloured man who bore a huge grin on his face we were mightily amused. This became the mantra for the week as my siblings and I would ask one another at any opportunity whether he or she was tickety boo or not so pucker. Still laughing I watched as my mother leant towards my father’s side of the car and trilled,

“Geraint how positively marvellous to see you. You look excellent well. I must say we are so looking forward to staying with you this week, it is awfully kind of you to accommodate us. It looks glorious, tell me how is your wife?”

I smirked as what I came to know as the façade was rolled out. I glanced at the rear view mirror to see my father’s reaction. As I suspected it was one of relief.

We children enjoyed our week. We had been housed in a large cottage which was clearly one which belonged to someone who had worked the estate in the past, a farmer or woodsman perhaps. Geraint occupied the main house where we dined three times if I remember correctly and there were fifteen cottages scattered across the estate. We spent our days locating them and adding them to the map we made of the extensive estate. My mother alternated between being fragrant and charming whenever she met Geraint and his family (tickety boo) to then sitting in silence when consigned to the cottage (not so pucker). As usual my father flapped about her trying to extoll the virtue of the cottage and its simpler way of life. The cottage had a permanent musty smell and it was necessary to chop logs outside to burn in the fireplaces and place in the aga range to provide cooking and heating facilities. We enjoyed this difference to the usual conveniences we enjoyed at home but my mother did not. She passed no adverse comment. She did not need to as she had repeatedly berated my father when at the hotel about his choice in coming to stay in this “bloody medieval hovel” and it seemed to me that the lap of luxury which she had insisted on had been not so pucker for her since she spent all of her time slating my father for wanting to see his old RAF pal. The blaming and name-calling then gave way to her iciness for the entire week. I do not recall my mother speaking to my father save when we were in the presence of Geraint and his family when my mother was charm personified, complimentary and quite the star of the dinner table.

Yes this trip stuck in my memory for many reasons but most of all for my exposure to the phrase tickety boo or not so pucker. I saw how these polar states were played out by my mother as part of her manipulation of my father, her quite amazing vacillation between delightful charm and muted resentment. She shone and then she iced over. I have come to realise that this entertaining phrase is most apt for our kind. Either everything is tickety boo, wonderful, marvellous and golden or it is not so pucker, awful, horrible, terrible and cruel. There is never any middle ground. No neutral. We do not do mediocre or mundane. We either give you tickety boo or subject you to not so pucker.

The Relational Tower

THE RELATIONAL TOWER.jpg

 

I sit up on high in my Relational Tower. I can see so much from this throne.

I look to the north and see the golden and shimmering lines which extend from me to my loyal subjects across the land. I see my supporters, my followers and my coterie going about their daily lives but all the while connected to me. They feel such privilege to be linked to me, their liege and I feed on that sense of privilege and the admiration and that adoration which is entwined around it.

I look to the south and see yet more lines of sparkling gold which link between me and my most devout lieutenants. From my vantage point I can signal to them and they will obey, carrying out my commands, executing my diktats and honouring my instructions. It is a source of great comfort to gaze in their direction and observe their industry on my behalf.

I look to the east and frown at the assembled legions which march towards me. The malcontents, the rejected, the fools and the idiots, all those who have taken up against me and now march in the expectation that they will unseat me. Yet further lines span out from me to these traitors. Dark purple lines, nearly invisible against the glowering firmament, these multitudinous lines which have those transgressors permanently attached to me and through which I pull, twist and yank. They moan, they wail and they lament their fate but there is no hope for any other for these are those who bear the stain of betrayal, the putrid stench of sedition emanates from their shambling frames. Let them come, let them advance towards me and I shall watch them as they break against my tower, like waves against the rocks as they are sent scattering and dissipating into so much spray. I watch them from afar, sometimes commanding my lieutenants to enter the fray to cajole and direct, a myriad of gold and purple shimmering and glinting as the lines combine. From time to time the purple becomes golden as by my most glorious bounty I bestow the wondrous joy upon the select few.

I look to the west and there I see you. You shine with such glory, the golden line between you and I fizzing with effervescence. A thick line which coils about your wrists, torso and throat, sending that precious essence towards me. There are days when that connection will dim to the purple of guilt, the thick line becoming stretched and thinned, but never ever breaking. I watch you as you journey towards me, face upturned, eyes rapturous, hands outstretched as the light burns brighter and those who are less than me would struggle to gaze upon you, but I always will. Though I may turn my face away from you from time to time, my dark eyes will always look for you.

I watch you all as you journey towards me, the supporters, the lieutenants, the outcasts and you. I can see it all from this elevated position as I organise, direct and orchestrate. I know what you want. I know what you all want, each and every one of you.

I am attached to you all, you are bound to me, some tighter than others, some with those chains which bite and burn, others who raise no objection to their silken bondage, but all are bound to me. I made it so. I wanted that. I am connected to so many of you. I have a relationship with each and every one. Our relational proximity varies from stranger to intimate partner, from minion to inner circle friend, from colleague to family member and so on. Relationships. I have them by the hundred and create more each day, reaching out with my tendrils of gold and purple in order to remain exactly where I want to be – at the centre in my tower.

I know why you all head towards me. You want to enter this tower and thus gain admittance to me. You wish to unlock the vast gate and pass through the imposing portal to enable you to climb the winding stone steps, each time passing without hindrance or complication through the many doors and gates which guard my inner sanctum.

I know you want to enter my inner sanctum.

Some of you want to cradle what you find there. Some of you wish to possess what your eyes will rest upon. Some of you wish to claim a portion for yourselves and be forever imbued with its effects. Some of you wish to release what is in this inner sanctum. Some of you wish to understand what lies there. Some of you wish to destroy what is revealed.

Whatever it might be, the hundreds of relationships which I have, no matter how long, how strong and how tightly bound or otherwise these may be all seek to enter my Relational Tower and penetrate the inner sanctum.

This cannot happen.

I made this tower. I built it high. I built the walls deep and thick, constructed from the stones of denial and the slabs of deflection all held in place with the mortar of fuel. I fashioned the thick timbers of the door from projection, the timber bolted together through triangulation and the lock created from a steely gaze and iron resolve. The heavy bar that is set against it arose from the blame-shifting. I have set many traps and pitfalls within this tower in order to prevent anybody reaching the inner sanctum. The stone steps are smeared with vitriol, the walls spiked with character assassination, cauldrons wait to pour their heated fury onto you and cast you in deep pits of despair. The stone is so thick that there is only ever silence here, it as if the very walls are giving you a cold and baleful stare. Everything that I have learned will be used to impede your progress, hamper and hinder you so you may not ever reach that inner sanctum.

I know you all want to go there. I know you want to reach deep inside of me, into my inner sanctum but I must not allow it. I dare not. I cannot admit anybody. Ever.

I built this tower high. I built it thick. I made it impenetrable.

I built it to keep you out.

I built it to keep me in.

We are always connected but so long as I remain in my Relational Tower in such splendid isolation then my inner sanctum remains preserved and so do I.

The Ten Initial Desires of the Narcissist

 

THE TEN INITIALDESIRES OF THENARCISSIST

 

I am red of tooth and claw. I seduce, I hurt, I cast to one side and like some malevolent Pied Piper, I play my tunes once again and draw you into my fabricated world. I operate a zero sum policy. I want what you have. If I gain it, I win. I love to win. I must always win. The winner is the conqueror, the strongest and the survivor. This is what I have been taught. That is the reality of my existence. Yet when you have been selected as our targets and the seduction has commenced, we have certain desires that we want to be true. There are initial desires that exist so that we do not have to go down the road so often travelled. We may have ensnared you but might we remain protector rather than persecutor?

We have these wants at the outset of our coupling with you. These are genuine, well-intentioned and considerable in nature. We are imbued with hope, optimism and confidence, every time a new prospect has been embraced by us. We want these things so that the teeth are never bared and the claws remain lowered.

  1. You are the one

I chose you because you are so special. I truly believe that you are the one, this time, to change everything that has happened before. You are the one who will save us, you have been selected beyond everybody else because you are the one. That is why we have such an infatuation with you at the outset of our relationship.

  1. You will not betray us.

The world is a cruel and harsh place and we know better than most how that is the case. We are surrounded by those who would strike us down and grind us into the nothingness which we fear. Those assassins lurk and wait, seeking their moment and we must ensure we remain vigilant so we do not fall prey to them. Traitors and betrayers mill about us, but we are wise to them. We know their game and we have them in our eye. We do not want you to be one of them.

  1. You won’t be like the others

We thought they would be the ones that we desired but they disappointed and dismayed and they left us no choice other than to punish them for their lack of loyalty and their false promises. We had to do so, otherwise a failure to act would only compound the perception of our weakness and we must at all times project to the world our image of success and magnificence. We hope you will not be like them so we need not maintain such a façade and we hope you will prove your worth so that you will not be like the others and let us down.

  1. You will stop the emptiness

Each and every day we must seek to fill the void that lurks within. It is part of what we are and we accept that this is the task which must be addressed because so much rests on being able to perform this important act. It is the reason for our existence but perhaps you can stop that sense of emptiness for us. Perhaps you can take away that void and provide us with the substance that we crave.

  1. You quell the fury

It is always there, churning away, waiting to be unleashed and directed at some transgressor, critic or traitor. I have learned to control it, many of my kind cannot do so and will never do so, it is a mark of my excellence and my superiority. I make it work for me, to advance my plans and to smite my foes. I have no choice for it is always there, waiting to be ignited in an instant. I can control it but I cannot quell it. Can you be the one to do this for me?

  1. You won’t get too close

Perhaps if you avoid getting too close to us you will not then let us down like the others before you have. We hope that you can provide us with all the things that we desire without the need to invade our inner sanctum which must remain locked and shuttered. Do not attempt to enter there for the consequences are too dreadful, for us both. Do not get too close and perhaps we have a chance to achieve the other desires that we wish for.

  1. You really do love us

They all seem to do so at the beginning but then we find ourselves surrounded by charlatans, con-merchants and frauds. Why does this always happen? All we want is for you to love us, unconditionally and eternally. That is what we only ever wanted.

  1. You will not wound us

No matter how grand and imperial we are, no matter how magnificent our achievements and our deportment that signals to the world that we are truly brilliant, a leader in our field, a behemoth and a colossus, we can be wounded with such despicable ease by those who send criticism our way. It hurts, it burns and it wounds and we must defend ourselves against such unwarranted and disgusting behaviour. Perhaps you will be the one who will not wound us in this way.

  1. You will not leave

Don’t leave us. The others have always done so. We do not understand why that is after everything that we have done, all the things we endeavoured to do to please them and then this is what happens. The others leave us twice. They come with such promise and deliver for a time but then they do so no longer and through such an omission they leave us. We want that person to return but struggle to contain the fury which is unleashed from this horrible criticism of us and then you sever all possibility of a return when you walk away from us. Do you know who you are when you do that?

  1. You won’t make us leave you.

Please do not do the things which force us away from you. The others all headed down that path. It causes us to consider that we are cursed, forever burdened by the fate that we will have no choice other than to leave you in order to secure our survival. Perhaps you can be the one who prevents that feeling from happening?

Each and every time these ten desires loom large when we commence our engagement with you. Some show such promise and for such a time and then one by one these desires are crushed, shattered and obliterated. We know only one way to respond to the destruction of our desires because we are red of tooth and claw.

What Goes On Below?

 

WHAT GOESON BELOW?

 

“Do that again and you will regret it.”

Those are the words which I will speak in about five minutes, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Welcome to my court. Here I am, sat at my rightful place at the head of the table. Prominent, elevated and overseer of those that have been magnanimously invited to look upon me and bask in their admiration of my glory. I sit, fork in one hand and knife in the other. There is food on my plate but I pay it no regard as I did not prepare it. Instead I am smiling. That rich, bountiful smile of the generous ruler that I am as I allow my subjects to draw close to me and experience a fragment of what it is like to be as brilliant as me. I know I am brilliant because right now the flames of power are high and bright inside of me. They are strong, they are intense and the power they imbue is washing back and forth over me, causing this rictus grin to become affixed to my face. I could not remove this smile even if I wanted to because it has been plastered there by the power that is coursing through me. This power is edifying and invigorating, twisting flames which dart and climb inside of me so that I feel as if I am taking off. I have to fight to remain in my seat as I want to leap onto the table, booted feet scattering plates and glasses as I allow this power to overwhelm me and I surge towards a higher place and thus empowered I will speak to those assembled and dazzle them. My mind races, thoughts fighting with one another. I see the smiling faces, the open mouths denoting laughter, I can hear the delight and amusement that I have caused amongst my dinner guests. I did that. I had all eyes on me, those eyes widening with interest and adoration as I regaled my anecdote to the guests. Each focused pair of eyes, the expressions of concentration, the rapt attention that was flowing my way, the mouths closed, set silent not daring to nor needing to interrupt me, all demonstrated that I was the sole attraction here. As my own eyes looked from face to face, never truly distinguishing who each person was, I drank in the fuel. It was not the recognition of who those people are but rather the emotions that I could see, hear and sense. Each look of admiration, each closed mouth which told me that the floor was mine and they had no need to interrupt as they wanted to listen, from each of the people sat around the table caused fuel to flow towards me, just as I wanted. Here, in my court, sat in my throne, I am surrounded by my lieutenants and members of my coterie. These inner circle individuals who are supportive, respectful and loyal to me because they know how fortunate they are to be associated with me. Their laughter, delight and admiration flows around the room, like fuel in a tank and I want it all. How wonderful this power is, how it enables me to shine and dazzle so I receive even more of this precious resource. I nod slowly in recognition, almost able to see the pipelines which lead from each guest to me. I can picture the golden, sparkling fuel as it is pumped towards me, ready to feed those flames of power and then I see it.

Your pipeline is empty. Nothing flows along it. That is when I see that you are not laughing, you are not even smiling at my entertaining recollection. Instead, your eyes show you are bored and you have just rolled them as I delivered the flourish of the conclusion to my tale. In that instant the flames become doused. They are snuffed out and suddenly the power that they created is starting to ebb and I can feel myself falling, sinking and then that sensation of unease begins to spread, from the centre of my chest and radiating outwards. You are sat there seemingly unmoved by my anecdote but not only that you have chosen to signal to me that not only does it not entertain you, but it bored you. I can feel the wound caused by your bored look. It pains me, evidence of the criticism which you have sent my way, unjustified and unwarranted.

Then it happens. I feel the ignition as the fury has a spark set to it. The rage begins to climb inside of me. I can feel its effect trying to twist my face into a snarl but I have to control it. Important members of my façade are here, it would not do to explode as I feel like I must do so and let you know what you have done to me. I want to pick up this crystal glass and hurl it from my end of the table to your end so it strikes you on the forehead and knocks you from your seat. I want to smash a plate over your head but I must control these manifestations of the rage that is rising inside of me. I know I can. I have done it many times before. Thankfully nobody else has seen your treacherous behaviour and I manage to shift my blackening gaze from you to the lady to my left and she is continuing to smile. Yes, smile for me Helen, smile, yes, good.

“That was hilarious, I love your stories,” she remarks as she cuts at the meat on her plate.

I feel power returning from this fuel she has provided for me. Thank you Helen, thank you, I knew I could rely on you. Yes, and you as well Tom, good, sweet Tom who never fails to laugh at everything I say and is still doing so. I can feel the rage being beaten back by this additional fuel which continues to fuel. I blink twice, caught between the receding fury and the gathering power from the fuel. I can sense the relief as the power begins to wash over me again as I avoid looking at you and keep drinking in the fuel from my friends, my good, kind and loyal friends. They know what to do. They would not betray me, not like you. I am beginning to wonder why I even bother with you now. It is not as if you contribute much over dinner anyway. I would have thought that you would have realised that it is your role to support me and allow me to shine, but you seem not to want to do that do you? I don’t know why. It is not as if I have not been kind to you, too kind maybe, perhaps you need reminding of why you exist? Yes, a prompt reminder is called for. I would cut you down right now with a scything comment but that might fracture the façade. After all, nobody saw what you did and I am not so stupid as to do something which damages everybody’s favourable impression of me. No, my acidic tongue, although itching to lash out at you, for the fury is still there, albeit diminishing, will stay still in my mouth at this dinner table. I continue to drink in the fuel, feeling powerful, emboldened and engorged. I can tell Helen is interested in me and why not? Perhaps a promotion is on the cards for her, moving her from inner circle friends to intimate partner and installation as primary source. She would relish the opportunity. I have no doubt about that.

I am forced to put consideration of a personnel change to one side as I see you leave the table and head towards the kitchen. Here is my chance.

“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen,” I smile again as I stand. All eyes swing my way again, expectation dancing in them.

“I have some more wine for you.”

There is a cheer and the fuel flows further for me at this delighted reaction to my largesse. The flames are climbing now as I leave the table and the chatter of the guests behind and enter the kitchen where you are about to pick up the tiered cake that you have created for pudding. You whip around as soon as you sense my presence and your eyes are round as you have anticipated what is coming. Good, you recognise my greatness and it does not create defiance but rather uncertainty and fear. I can see your concern etched across your face.

“Do that again and you will regret it,” I say slowly, my eyes staring straight at yours, my gaze impenetrable and darkening. You shrink back as I loom over you. I can feel the flames rising as the negative fuel pumps from you, your fear and apprehension just what I wanted.

“Do what?” you reply.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I hiss and this makes you jump. The flames lick a little higher.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you protest. You are rooted to the spot but leaning away from me, your body language fuelling me as it displays your obvious unease.

“Yes you do, how dare you fucking roll your eyes at me,” I press.

“I didn’t.”

“Are you saying I am making it up?”

“No, no, I just I er, “you start to flounder, caught between wanting to cling to the truth, truth-seeker that you are and cautious of enraging me further.

“You just what? Spit it out,” I command.

“I er,”

I want to smile as I delight in your apprehension and the simple exhibition of my power over you. In an instant I have drawn my negative fuel from you and stunned you into confused silence. Power indeed.

“Well?” I urge. I am enjoying this. This is all good fuel.

“Nothing. I am sorry, I must have been distracted by something else, I have a lot on my mind with work, you know, I will push it to one side and enjoy the evening, I am sorry.”

Your apology strengthens the flames. I hold your gaze a little longer as your eyes flick from my left eye to my right eye as if you expect to find approval or forgiveness in them.

“You better had,” I say softly as I continue to look at you, “otherwise you know what will happen?”

I extend the forefinger on my left hand and slowly and deliberately push it into the sponge of the cake, my digit driving into the yielding cake. Your eyes stare at the gesture as your mouth tightens in fear. I remove my finger leaving a deep and obvious indentation in the top of the cake as I lick my finger clean. I continue to stare at you and wait.

You nod.

There it is the compliance I sought.

The fuel flows and now I can turn and return to my waiting admirers having ensured you understand who is the master and who is the servant.

No raised voices. No smashed plates. No slamming doors.

Façade maintained and fuel obtained.

This is what goes on below.

The Narcissist Manipulates : Bringing Up The Past

digging

 

It is an essential method of maintaining our control over you by bringing up the past. We are always able to recall some past wrong which you have committed or some particular transgression which we will use to suit our current purposes. Being able to bring up the past allows us to deflect your attacks against us, deny the validity of what you are saying and instead enables us to put you under scrutiny. We have a formidable capability for remembering what has happened before. It is as if each event in our lives together has been recorded in my mind’s eye and in a moment I can locate the exact memory, circumstances and events in order to support my position and demolish yours. The pin point accuracy by which I can dredge something up which happened months or even years ago is quite staggering. It is all the more amazing because we always seem to forget about events which you try and rely on. Mind you, that is because you have such a tendency to make things up haven’t you? It is quite a terrible habit that you have, lying in order to try and make me look bad or feel worse. It is not something you would find me doing. Absolutely not.

You abide by the concept of that once something has been put to bed that is the end of the matter. It is done. It is concluded. It is finished. We do not subscribe to that point of view. In fact, anything that has happened between us, which we need to resurrect in order to advance our case against you, is never concluded. It may be buried, but it is never buried dead. All the discussions, happenings and events, even though they may have been discussed, dissected and mulled over to an extraordinary degree many moons ago, are ready to be brought back to life in the click of a finger and thumb. That argument about the one time in the last six months when you actually went out with your friends (although that of course was not without a monumental battle beforehand) began when you returned five minutes later than when you said you would return. The discussion rumbled on late into the night until finally tired and fed-up you conceded defeat, apologised and sloped off to bed. All delight from your enjoyable evening having evaporated as a consequence of our ranting and raging. You knew it had been done to death. There was not really anything to argue about, not that that stopped us going round and round in circles in order to frustrate you. This argument was complete and there was no need for it to be mentioned again. Except there was. You organised to go and see a show with your friends. It had been in the diary for at least eight weeks and you headed away looking forward to enjoying it. It was one of your favourites, one you had loved since you were a little girl. You knew that we were not pleased, you could see it in the frozen smile you gave when we came out to say hello to your friends. Not of course that we were interested in being polite to your friends as they waited in the car. No, we wanted to see who was going. Checking up to see if your story was true. We kissed you and wished you a delightful evening although you knew underneath we would be raging that we had to make our own meal and we were left alone for the evening.

The show was magnificent and your friends excellent company but the traffic leaving the venue was heavy and you returned home half an hour later than you had estimated. Note it was an estimate, not a guaranteed time by which you would return, not that this fact would make any difference to us. You sent us a text message (you did not want the embarrassment of a horrible telephone call as you sat in your friend’s car) advising of the delay and why it was. You received no response. That told you everything you needed to know. You entered the house and found us waiting, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“What time do you call this?” The accusation is launched. There is no hello, no asking how the show went or whether you enjoyed the evening.

“Sorry. The traffic was bad. Did you get my text?”

“Yes but that is not the point. You are late again. You do this on purpose don’t you?”

“What do you mean again?” you respond, a knee-jerk reaction to the unfair accusation but as soon as the last word has left your mouth you know what is coming. You can almost hear the vault door being opened and the relevant deposit box being selected, the tiny key being inserted and turned.

“You were late the last time you went out.”

“That was six months ago.”

“It was five actually. It was March. It doesn’t matter if it was yesterday or yesteryear, you are late and you said you would not be. You lied.”

“I lied. Oh come on, you come in late every week. Either from the bar or some work meeting and I never complain.”

“Yes you do. You complained last Friday and I told you that I had to meet those clients in the bar.It was a business meeting.”

“You didn’t tell me anything of the sort. I rang you six times to find out where you were.”

“It was eight times actually and I did not answer because I was busy with the clients. As I told you. I remember distinctly explaining that to you.”

“You didn’t. You really didn’t. Look, this is the first time I have been out in an age, I am home now, let me tell you about the show.”

“No. You are not distracting me with tales about songs and dance routines. I am sick of your disrespecting me in this fashion. You always come back late when you are with those harpies.”

“Why say that?” you ask hurt by the remark about your friends.

“Because they are a bad influence on you. They got you drunk that time. Do you remember? You threw up in the sink when you got in and then on the floor.”

“No I didn’t, that was you!”

“Don’t try and twist things around. I remember distinctly seeing you stagger through the door because I was sat in that chair watching the news.”

“You were asleep upstairs and I was not drunk. I don’t get drunk.”

“Oh really, I can remember at least five occasions when you have come home rat-arsed, banging into the walls and crawling up the stairs. There was that time you went with Sandra to that new bar, Apartment it was called.”

“What are you going on about. No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. Are you calling me a liar? Remember, I have a far better memory than you, yours is obviously addled by all the drinking that you do.”

And on it goes. Past misdemeanours both real and imagined are brought up and levelled against you. Bringing up the past is good for all occasions. If you accuse us of flirting with someone, we will remind you of your brazen behaviour with our brother. If you complain because we have not taken the rubbish out, we will remind you how you forgot to pick up our drying cleaning on three separate occasions. Accuse us of over-spending and we will revisit your last three shopping trips and reel off every item that you purchased. The confidence with which we describe these past events has you bewildered and at times you are unable to recall whether we are actually correct or whether we are making it up. You often think that we are making things up but the conviction we demonstrate has you doubting your own recall. This technique is used by us frequently. It moves the subject of the argument on to you, frustrates, angers and upsets you so that you provide us with and has you often apologising so that we know we have landed a blow and laid down a marker. Reminding you of the past, real or imagined is something we do frequently. What is behind using this manipulative technique to acquire fuel and control? Simple. We bring up the past because we are intimidated by what is happening in the present.

Impregnate

 

IMPREGNATE

 

The issue of our kind impregnating a victim is yet another tool that exists within our manipulative toolkit to enable us to achieve our aims. I daresay some of you may find it abhorrent and reprehensible that such an act as conception and the bringing forth of new life should also fall within our repertoire of machinations. Others of you will not be surprised, long-used to the notion that nothing is off limits to us. Everything is in play. As ever,the issue of impregnation and the forthcoming birth is very much something that is relevant to our kind and as ever, I provide you with the truth of how it is regarded by our kind, no matter how unpalatable it may be.

There are several ways in which the act of conception, pregnancy and the issue of children are used to further our dark agendas.

  1. The Promise

The promise to give you children at the early stage of the relationship is always done with a view to ensuring that you succumb to our seduction. See how committed we are to you? We want to have children with you. You. Nobody else. What other commitment underlines and reinforces the strength of our desire to you? The joining of two people in love and creating new life together is the epitome of commitment. How your eyes fill with joyous tears and that look of spreading delight crosses your face when you realise that this wonderful, brilliant and magnificent person wants to have children with you. Whether it is impregnating you or us bearing your child, this promise is readily wheeled out in order to clinch the deal. What you should also have regard to that expressing a desire to make you pregnant/become pregnant by you is actually all about reinforcing our dominance over you. From the male narcissistic perspective, the act of having you take our seed deep inside of you, subjugated to our desire to create new life underlines our power. You are not only allowing us to enter your most private of places but you are allowing us to deposit our very essence there as well. To us this is the ultimate act of conquest. We have vanquished all resistance and there, deep in your sacred and intimate place we have placed ourselves. From the female perspective, the act of becoming pregnant by you underlines how we have subsumed you into us. We have engulfed you and drawn that which defines you into our very deepest of places. We have similarly conquered you.

Not only is this promise made early in the seduction, it will be made irrespective of existing children we may have and that you may have. In our minds they are all just tests demonstrating our fertility for this most supreme of acts, the union of you and I. If we are considerably younger than you and you are female, aware of the ticking of the biological clock this promise of wanting to impregnate you will be used as a golden carrot to dangle in front of you. You are on the cusp of being barren, sterile years may well beckon and here we are, youthful, virile, fertile ready to not only give you our perfect love but to offer that perfect love by way of impregnating you. It is a powerful and irresistible promise which many find exhilarating and captivating. Add to this mix any existing issues in terms of trying to conceive or give birth and this vulnerability will be exploited even further. We want to give you what you want, only because it will give us what we want.

This promise will be launched at you from early on and will initially seem like a loving and romantic comment to make, but it is one that is borne out of the need to dominate and conquer and is a promise that will be made good for the second reason.

  1. Binding

There is no better way to bind you to us than the issue of children. The creation of children means that you are far less likely (and indeed in many cases unable) to escape us. You want the perfect image of a family and with someone who has arrived with such a glorious love for you, who better than us to have children with? We know that because as an empathic person you will dedicate yourself to their upbringing and therefore allow us reduce our own involvement save when it suits us. As you know, when you need support we are invariably found to be lacking. We choose having children as a means of tying you tight to us, ensuring you will provide plenty of fuel for us and have a huge obstacle in your way when it comes to trying to escape us. We have no desire to have children with you because of anything to do with you. We are using you as an incubator. We are like the insect which arrives and lays its eggs in another host causing them to do all the hard work. Once those eggs hatch you will be consumed, cast aside, just as that insect would with the empty husk of the carrier whose role has been completed. You are an appliance that supplies fuel. You are an appliance which is there to carry our offspring leaving us free to cultivate other fuel sources. You will receive little or no help from us, or be doted on, dependent on whether the pregnancy remains in the golden period. Whichever it is we expect you to bring forth our issue without complication or problem because these children are required for the third and fourth reasons.

  1. Pawns

What better device to use as a means of triangulation than one’s own children? These pawns are used in the ongoing competition with you.

“I love you more than mummy, you know that don’t you?”

“I’m your favourite aren’t I?”

“Let’s not tell daddy about this.”

“Mummy doesn’t really love you, but I do.”

Such utterances are issued in order to ensure that the children understand who is their master and commander. They will be used to provide us with fuel as they find themselves to our manipulations also but more than anything else they are a necessary and brilliant device that is used to triangulate with you.

“I will let you but daddy won’t.”

“Isn’t Mummy grumpy today?”

“Here, take this money but don’t tell your mother.”

“Aren’t you happy you look just like me?”

Your parenting of these children will be questioned. What you once did so well, will become the subject of scrutiny and criticism. Any perceived failure on the part of the advancement of these children – in education, popularity, sport and social competence – will be laid at your door. You have failed them. This heartless and savage criticism, attacking your competency as a parent is a fantastic method of causing you to spill fuel. All the while to the outside world we will appear the doting dad, the marvellous mother, the perfect parent. Little does the façade reveal of the tyrannical reign that emerges behind that closed door. The tears and sobbing never cross the threshold.

  1. Legacy

We wish to live forever. Someone as brilliant as ourselves deserves this and children provide the ideal conduit for securing that legacy. Our magnificence lives on through the accomplishments and achievements of children.

“He gets his brains from me.”

“Yes I was a champion sprinter as well.”

“He has inherited my artistic side.”

“I always knew he would follow me into the profession.”

“It is in the good genes I gave her; I always knew she would be a brilliant swimmer.”

The child never achieves anything. We caused those achievements. The credit will always be hoovered up by us. Sucking the admiration and fuel from onlookers as we grasp the glory and seize it for ourselves. We never give credit to anybody else and we make no adjustment to this selfishness with our children. They are just a further extension of ourselves. We attached you to us as an extension but we actually created these extensions, that is how powerful we consider ourselves to be.

We believe that children are the future. Our future.