Angel of My Creation
I still remember with breath-taking clarity the first time I fell in love. I was 17 and there was a girl in my class called Amanda. She was tall, gamine and with a slightly upturned nose. Her hair was blonde and long, always sweeping behind her.. She always seemed to be hurrying from one place to the next, yet she did so with a measured glide that made her seem somehow ethereal. I would stand and watch her as she bustled along the corridor in college, her hockey stick poking from her bag and apologies issued from that enticing mouth as the stick bumped against people. I would position myself in class so I could look at her without her noticing. I sat at seven o’clock to her and I drank in her frame as it was hunched over the desk, those long fingers gripping her fountain pen, the blue ink staining her index finger. How I loved her slender wrists which would often be turned towards me, the skin slightly paler than the rest of her sun-kissed self. Her figure was athletic, her skin lightly tanned and there was always a clean scent about her. Whenever she passed me I would breathe in as deep as I could to savour every molecule of her fragrance that washed over me. I would lie in bed, my eyes closed and invent scenarios for us to meet and spend time together. I imagined protecting her from those that would seek to defile such a precious person as I knew full well of the darkness that lurked waiting to trap someone as pure as her. I knew my kind and what went on in our minds. I masturbated frenetically conjuring up images of her naked frame enveloped around mine, her soft lips pressed onto my cheek. I could not resist the allure she exhibited yet I cursed myself after my climax for allowing me to think of her in this way. Occasionally she would smile at me and leave me dizzy with elation.
Carefully I built up a portfolio of information about her. There was no internet to aid me then and my intelligence was gathered through a combination of observation and discrete questioning of her friends. I knew where she lived, in a small town along from mine and her bedroom was at the front of the house above the main entrance. She often rode a bike and on a Saturday morning she would go horse riding. I learned she was a fan of Duran Duran and had something of a crush on Simon le Bon when she had been in her younger teens. I knew she enjoyed playing a lot of sport and her favourite drink was Vimto. Little by little I noted all of this down and then memorised it in readiness of the day that we spoke. I envisaged how I might ask her to go on a date with me. I thought about the two of us going to see a film together, something a little scary so that those delightful fingers might reach out and grab mine by way of reassurance. I wondered if she could ice skate and if not how she could hold onto me as we moved about the rink. I longed to hold her hand and let my fingers caress her clean, clean skin.
I never saw any evidence of a boyfriend although I knew from what other lads in the class said that they fancied her. Inside I churned when I heard them refer to her in a sexual fashion. She was not theirs to be spoken of in that way and during history lessons I would plot how I would cause those leering fools to suffer for their graphic slurring of my beautiful Amanda.
All through that first year of sixth form college I loved her with a noble purity and never spoke to anyone of how I felt about her, but I knew that it was love. How could this powerful sensation I felt each time I saw her, heard her or smelt her, be anything else? The summer holiday was a painful hiatus and my sporadic passes of her home never produced a glimpse of Amanda. I once walked up to the front door and nearly posted a note through her letterbox, but my nerve failed me and I retreated down the path.
Once Autumn arrived and with it the start of the upper sixth, I returned to college with expectant enthusiasm. As I settled into my usual seat and waited for her to glide into the class room I wondered if she had changed much over the summer holiday. The teacher arrived and commenced the lesson, but there was no Amanda. She made no appearance all that week. Nor the next. My sleep was fragmented with concern as to her whereabouts and eventually I asked our form tutor. He explained that her family had moved abroad over the summer owing to her father’s job. He did not know the exact whereabouts. My fury at losing her was monumental but I kept it within, as I had been taught, not wanting the world to know of the agony that I bore. I tried to ascertain where she had gone but my questions bore no fruit.
The decades have passed and I have looked for her again and again. I have used technology to try and locate her but there has been nothing. Her name may have changed and thus she eludes me. I have checked her old friends’ profiles to see if she is amongst their friends but she remains elusive. I have had to carry the burden of my lost love all this time and though I have sought sanctuary in the soft embrace of countless ladies, each time hoping that Amanda will appear to me through their embrace or their fragrance, every time I am left broken and bitterly disappointed. None of them come close to that angel which graced my class room. None of them equal her purity and grace, her unsullied manner and gracious movements. My love for Amanda was perfect and I feared it could never be matched. Each and every time they show such promise and every time they leave me disappointed and full of bile as they fall monstrously short of her perfection. I will not give up on my angel, I never shall, for it is with her that I shall find salvation.
63 thoughts on “Angel of My Creation”
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Do you still do that, M. Tudor?
Do what? (I do not see the earlier post in my moderation pane so you need to be specific.)
The thing that your article says… (I realize that this is a family site, so I will try to say it in a creative way so as to be tactful): mass-tour-beg-shun
Nika, you asked HG if he still mastubattes or if he still does thinking of Amanda? 😳
If it is the former, the answer to your question is yes, he mentioned recently that he finds it necessary to choke the chicken occasionally. (Not a direct quote, but close.)
But not over Amanda.
HG, I was trying to save you from having to answer. That is so personal!
All men and most women masturbate. It’s normal and healthy, Nika. If a man says he doesn’t, I’m always suspicious that it’s a fib.
Thank you for that very important reminder, MB… I’m sure that now having that in the back of my mind will put me even more at ease the next time I have a phone conversation with the narcissist…yep, calming — thanks a bunch!
(LOL)
-in all seriousness, I’m already walking a self-styled tightrope; any spastic tipping off of it is not your doing. It’s all me, all day, every day.
My pleasure Caroline. (See what I did there)
Oh, believe me – I see, MB.
Bad girl! 😉
Goodness! Have we descended so far in this sink of iniquity that we are asking what HG has in the wank bank?
I could have told you that! He has a couple of dog-eared copies of Razzle and a Readers’ Wives circa 1982 whose cover has a woman who looks suspiciously like Toyah…
The wank bank is the mind so old grumble mags would not be included.
Grumble mags? Never heard them called that before! 🤣
Bongo or jazz mags too.
My pals just call it all ‘grot’ 🤣
WordPress buggering up again, don’t want to post in this thread but I do want to post in this writing because it concerns early N behaviours and actually, how well deployed some of the manipulations were.
Just before I went to uni, I met a boy and we had a relationship for about 9 months which ended just after he went to uni (he was a year older). This boy was not the love of my life (that is obviously HG 🙂 ) but I’ve often wondered about him through the years.
He popped into my head last night and he’s been on my mind today.
In many ways, I was very happy with him but I was also in the middle of a very unhappy situation at home and frequently I would break down in front of this boy, lets call him A, with the result that there were plenty of rows.
I tried to end it several times saying I was unhappy and not in the right place but still we went on. He was very kind, very good at reading emotion. Generous too. His mum was kind but his dad was an epic fucktard of unbelievable proportion. A slimy, obsequious MMR who would NOT keep his eyes of my legs and once tried to catch me and A in flagrante. After that experience he was properly placed on Ren-Watch. And I made it clear to A that I thought it was fucking unacceptable.
As I say, it ended a few weeks after he went to Uni. But who was he, N, normal or E? I HAD hoped he might have been a normal or even better an E. He’s not. He’s a N. The signs are unmistakable.
Took all of minutes to find him, his mum and his dad. Profiles semi or even wide open (why do people do this?). There is a child too. Very odd to see someone who you knew such a long time ago. Even odder to remember their parents. So I applied the HG method. Yup, mum an E and one who has suffered. You can see it in her eyes. The child looks nervous, worried and frighted. Timid. Uncertain. Parents divorced. Ahh the Dad – STILL being a cunt I see? A comment on a picture to his now ex-wife has a little ‘nip’ in the tail. Poor woman, what on earth had she been through?
Of course A is a N. The refusal to acknowledge I was in a bad spot emotionally, his mocking of his friends (especially an American, more anon), indulging in risky and opportunistic behaviour with regards to sex. (Don’t worry too much about this; I’m just as bad if not worse). Triangulating me with other women as part of the devalue before
disengaging and in a final letter afterwards saying that he was once in love with me then he fell out of love. I never saw him again. It’s possible a proxy hoover was deployed about 18 months or so later via the American at my uni. It failed because I was with someone else. I’d often wondered about that dude and how he randomly popped up in the SU bar that night and then was never seen again. (Incidentally, that man is NOT on A’s friend list)
The point of my ramble is that whilst I have expended some effort today in working this through, by the application of the HG method, I won’t waste my time reconnecting. What would the point be? Yes, I am curious as to what has happened to him in the intervening years but I’m not THAT curious. I have no need for another N in my life so I can let the past say firmly buried and move on. Thanks to HG.
The look in that child’s eyes though now is haunting me. Looking back is never the answer; I must drive forward. And yes, I want to help that child but I think the only way I can do this is by continuing to spread awareness.
I see so many people reconnecting with others from their past on FB and the like. My thought on that is this: If you haven’t kept up with them for years and have to go back into the past, there’s a reason. That traitorous bitch Hope has you thinking things may have changed. They likely haven’t. You were right the first time.
As always NA, you are totally correct and I value your input.
You say, ‘That bitch called hope’. Yeah, I get that. It was hope that made me think of this man, that what I had experienced was just a random or please, please another E.
I just want to very clearly say that whilst what he did was technically abusive, I didn’t perceive it that way at the time. Still don’t actually; he was acting in accordance with his own nature and so was I. Or to be blunt; I can’t be fucking arsed with the panjadram.
It’s enough that I can now recognise it for what it is. Put it to bed and move on.
Like HG, I too have been undergoing a evolution. Understanding and awareness of who I am and how I interact with people (and always, always how I govern my own interactions with them) has been brought into crystal clear focus with the event of my weaponisation.
The result of this is that very much like HG, I am choosing NOT to follow his own behaviours and methodology because let’s face it; HG (and I am sure he doesn’t mind me saying this) is flying in the face of his own advice.
HG recognises this and is being utterly clear in his interactions with the ShieldMaiden and how he presents the on IG and here, that this is a new dynamic. But it’s not one that should be followed by everyone.
This is a difficult position to hold from an intellectual POV. For both of us and the work we do.
When other abuse survivors contact me or I offer advice I always say the same thing. GOSO and LC/NC depending on circumstance, I don’t follow this advice anymore. The reason is simple and it’s like HG says, it’s about energy.
It takes energy, a great deal of energy to sustain a robust NC. So I choose NOT to employ a NC. I just don’t. Anyone, anywhere is free to contact me. Now – this is the trick; do I respond to their invitation? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Just depends. But this is high risk, ninja territory. I accept this as fact.
Equally, I am quite confident enough that I can resist pretty much all Hoovers if I should wish, and interact with people on a more level playing field. One of my choosing.
I could go into detail how a couple of MR twats are desperately trying to suck me up right now but I frankly cannot be fucking arsed with their nonsense. Silly, very silly boys.
Fuck off MR’s, I’m dealing with the men, now.
Renarde
Yes, HG has been very clear that it is business as usual with the advice of GOSO. I don’t see what he is doing as flying in the face of his own advice because his advice is the best protection and defence for empaths and he is approaching this new venture as both a narcissist, and as identifying that a good result (for either) is not guaranteed. As you have identified – it is a very high risk move to do otherwise and leave yourself open as you plan to do. I would think there are very few who can be involved with a narcissist successfully. More specifically my opinion is that it would be those who do not bond or attach easily. As far as energy goes, I think it would take far more energy to disengage when one has been worn down than to remain no contact once you have been removed or have created distance, but that’s your call. I wish you well and take comfort in knowing that you have this place if you should find that confidence betrays you.
Meh. After three months Amanda would be just as annoying as anybody else.
I just do not believe that a full-blown Sociopathic Personality is capable of love, unless by way of a miracle from God. Then, it is completely possible.
We do not feel love in the way that empathic and normal people do.
It is evident.
Although in this story, you didn’t get any kind of Emotional Attention from the girl, nor did you get any kind of power, control, domination, rights, superiority, submission, etc.
You say in the same, that you fell in love. How can this happen? if you have always said that you lack this kind of feeling.
How would you define this different form of falling in love with the narcissist?
How does the narcissist feel when he says he is in love or when you say you fell in love and why?
It was infatuation JG and not love, but I thought it was love at that time.
My narcissist husband of 5 years told me about a girl that he was in love with when he was 16. She was a year older than him and just like your Amanda, she was blonde and beautiful.
He told me that she went on holiday with her parents and was killed in a car crash.
They had planned to get engaged and I know that it is something that still causes him terrible pain. This beautiful blonde teenager died before she had the chance to disappoint my husband, therefore, just like your Amanda, she has remained his ‘Lost Angel’……..the one that got away. The one that can never be replaced.
Had she lived and had they got married, would this Angel have eventually been discarded? Who knows.
If your Amanda had become your girlfriend and even your wife, would she have lasted or would she have ended up disappointing you and being discarded?
I guess we may never know the answer.
I believe that NPD is based on childhood trauma……certainly in the case of my husband anyway. I have managed to piece together the TRUTH of his early life, which is somewhat different to what he has told me, and it is sad and tragic.
He is extremely intelligent and he was high up in the military. He is now in his 60s, his health is very bad and his mind is increasingly fractured.
At the moment we are going through one of our ‘Golden Phases’ in which he is being loving and kind and I can do no wrong.
I think he realizes that he overstepped the mark at Christmas when he screamed and raged at me for 6 hours because I had used up all the candles.
I know that I am dealing with a traumatized 9 year old boy in a Man’s body, and this is how I cope.
Of course I could leave him but I am a full blown empath, just as he is a full blown Narcissist, and the truth is, I love him very much.
My heart aches for that abused little boy, who I sometimes get a glimpse of in my husband’s eyes……only for a few seconds mind you…..when he realizes that the ‘Mask’ has slipped he quickly puts it back on and the ‘wolf’ appears in the place of the terrified little boy.
He has several very serious health problems and we both know that he doesn’t have many years left.
Lately, perhaps due to his deteriorating mental health, I am getting regular glimpses of the ‘False Self’ and the original self.
I know that Narcissists create the ‘False Self’ when they are very young in order to cope with the unbearable pain of their lives.
The ‘False Self’ is grandiose, arrogant, often cruel, believes he is God-like and unbeatable.
The ‘False Self’ even has a different voice to the other ‘self’ that I believe is my husband’s core personality………the core personality being who he was MEANT to be before terrible abuse in his early life made him create the all powerful ‘False Self.’
The ‘False Self’ sounds harsh and cruel…..but the core personality is gently spoken, kind and childlike.
I have even heard ‘Both’ of them arguing with each other…..I kid you not.
I am forever thankful that I studied Psychology before I met my husband because this was how I knew fairly early on that I was dealing with a Man with NPD.
I could write a book about the subject, but I remain convinced that ALL cluster B disorders are based on early childhood abuse and trauma.
HG, I hoped the story would end that you never found her. Finally, a person who you targeted escaped your tendrils. She remains pure & unsullied. Isn’t that the way you want her to remain, after all?
Indeed, you have known the perfection you seek. Please do not search for her anymore. You’ll only hurt her and she’ll no longer be your angel. Allow the innocence to remain.
69R, if Amanda is beautiful, blonde, athletic and an empath, I have no doubt she ended up with a different narc.
HG,
By “all” I mean the recent “Norwegian Angel of Your Dreams” is an extension of this very article/object lesson.
This is my favorite post ever because in it you show a tiny spectrum of falling in love the fact that u didn’t want the other boys to look at her sexually and you didn’t like the fact that you masturbated thinking about her but that part scares me too , just like my narc who suffered from the whore Madonna complex he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy sex with the woman he currently painted white , which was me. In any event I wish you had told Amanda of your feelings and it would have went one of two ways if she recipricated either u would have eventually found fault with her which is the most likely scenario and then u would have punished her for being less than perfect and not an angel , even though she never was , she was merely an angel of your creation , or if you were young enough and your narcissism wasn’t deeply entrenched enough you could have experienced the closest thing to love you ever could , although even at that point it would still not be real love that matures with time , it would be stage on infatuation but still a very lovely experience when it’s recipricated
I meant to say stage one infatuation not stage on , meaning the earliest phase of love which may or may not lead to real love
This is one of my favorites bc its an evolving piece depending on what stage a persons at in their npd awakening and awareness. When i first read this it made me feel hopeful that a narcissist could go back in time and have genuine feelings for someone. I do think npd gets worse with age if left untreated but i think in earlier years npd isnt as solidified in a person. Anyways when i first read this a few years ago my heart went out to HG and his lost love. It made me hopeful that maybe npd isnt fully without the ability to love but as time went on i read this from a different angle. Thats what i love about HGs writing its like a hologram you can see it differently at different stages of time.
I remember reading comments and one stuck out where someone had asked HG if he had any leads on where amanda may be at and he said hes been very busy trying to locate her. It was meant as a joke but it dawned on me that amanda could be a real person or she could be a narcissistic symbol. Amanda represents “infatuation”. Infatuation is the narcissists version on love and infatuation never can last so sadly the relationships fizzle and die.
Amanda symbolizes the next appliance not yet met and in a reserve way the one who got away.
She was the beginnings of first infatuation that continued on over many years. We now see a new appliance with the sheildmaiden and she is amanda until infatuation fizzles and a new amanda is out there waiting to be lured in to replace.
The one who got away. I get the lesson and its tongue in cheek bc amanda is not special but only for a certain time until the “mystery” and newness is gone and then there must be a new amanda. She can never be found bc she doesnt exist only infatuation exists to the narcissist and it never lasts.
An impressive and thoughtful interpretation.
Thanks goes to your writings HG! 🙂
Pleasure.
HG. Beautifully expressed . Someday I hope you will find true love. .Its a blessing of a feeling.. I wish my Narc would have been able to feel the true meaning of love..
Thank you Follia.
So spot on, Chihuahuamum.
This is how I know that my narc never loved me. He loved me for who he thought I was or, rather, he loved the person he wanted me to be: the answer to all his cares and needs with zero challenge.
As soon as I started being human, as soon as I could not live up to being that person he was infatuated with, then came the decline. Or, should I say, then came the downs and ups of our so-called relationship.
I guess we each were a different side of the same coin: he loved me for who he thought I was, for the potential he saw in me; I loved him for who I thought he was, for the human I thought I saw in front of me.
lisk
My feelings exactly 😌
Chihuahuamum,
I enjoyed how you explained ‘the one that got away’ from the narcissist perspective.
I agree that you can read this one from different perspectives: a ‘real’ Amanda to the conceptual Amanda and it does demonstrate how good HG’s writing is that we can keep revisiting the same piece and see all sides of it.
Everytime I read this article I think how, in our heads ‘The One That Got Away’ remains this untouched, unsullied vision – the one that if we did manage to lay hands on it would make the illusion go “poof” into thin air…
It reminds me of when I was between relationships (after my first long-term relationship but before the rise of online dating) and at the time there were plenty of informal online ‘chatrooms’ etc. – if you wished to meet people that way. I recall having conversations with a very charming musician I met through one (he definitely gave off a ‘bad boy’ vibe but back then that was part of the attraction). He was both eloquent and witty, wrote amazing lyrics and was more intellectual than most guys that I had met. We had many long conversations (a lot of them sexually charged.) And his band was an up and coming thing on the local music scene in his city (2 hours from me). I remember the many times he said I should come see his band play and meet him…but at that time I didn’t have the nerve to travel to a city where I didn’t know anyone to meet a ‘virtual’ stranger (or what if we did meet and he rejected me)…and then he ‘ghosted’ me and his band eventually fell into obscurity. But I had always wondered ‘what if’ I had had the courage to meet up with him? Such a missed opportunity…
Hahaha…now I see the red flags all over that! (And I’m glad I didn’t follow through on meeting him.) However, that does not mean that he didn’t have an effect on me – especially that disappointment of not being bold enough to meet with him – the ‘what if only’s?’ stayed with me. And I swore that my lack of boldness would not get in the way of any similar future opportunity. So – years later – while my ex narc didn’t present the same way, my boldness definitely led me down the trail towards my entanglement – as he was not going to be a missed opportunity. No, he was not; he was the one that shattered the illusion.
But I realize now it was inevitable…because otherwise I’d still be chasing that illusion of the one that got away…
In some ways it has broken me but in other ways it has helped me reclaim my confidence because my self-worth no longer hangs solely upon the affirmation or rejection of another.
Wow, a complete taste for love was unexpected from the man that claims he doesn’t feel emotion.
That true feeling of love is rare and often never replaced by simple quest for its return.
I have never stated that I do not feel emotion, I have a limited emotional spectrum.
This is all an object lesson, correct?
What do you mean by “all” CIF?
Sadly, I do not think that “love” is an emotion that you feel according to some of your own writings, as well as many other various articles I have read about “your kind”.
Limited emotional spectrum , okay.
But you’re really good at knowing that it once existed.
You’re an amazing writer.
If I could only express that love i once felt many years ago, I’d sell it in a book or a can we could all sip from just for a minute to taste its rarity or remember that love was at first sweet and worth a life time of sacrifice. Once, a long time ago.
Thank you. I suggest that many of those emotions never existed but it does provoke an interesting debate amongst readers.
Beautiful HG. The way you describe the feelings and the wanting are on point. Delicious feelings of being newly in love. I hope you’ve finally found her.
HG, is the sheidmaiden your long lost Amanda? Also, this reminded me to recommend everyone watch the show “You” on Netflix.
Do you mean she is actually Amanda?
Yes, thought maybe you found her (if she existed).
The Shieldmaiden is not ‘the Amanda’ but she is very much of a considerable likeness, it is quite breath taking.
I really wanted to ask if the former lady also looked like Amanda but you would probably just respond with “Who?” 🙄
No she did not.
Thank you HG!!
It’s nice to know that you have your ideal one now.
SW, visited a friend (who knows full well my tangle with a narc) who told me to watch, “You.” So I presume it’s about narcissism? I’m going to check it out. I’d forgotten she mentioned it, thanks for the reminder!
Yes, but the killer kind. The main character is surprisingly sympathetic…but aren’t many narcs… 😉
I saw the previews for this movie, “StrongerWendy”, and might watch it.
StrongerWendy, I binged “You” over the weekend. Totally different perspective than I would have had pre-HG. It creeped me out, but I enjoyed it in a forensic kind of way. Hopefully the popularity of the series will help bring about more awareness.
MB
You should read the books. They are so much better!
I might do that Joanne. I would have preferred to read them before watching the series though.
Ive just started watching this 👍🏻
It’s an interesting show. I was surprisingly pleased to view it with “Tudor” eyes. It was educational watching a show with npd and psychopathy. Like viewing aids for narc class! 😎