Tell Me That It´s True



I told you I loved you. That was not a lie. I meant it when I said it. I meant it every time that I said it, wrote it, messaged it, voice mailed it, gifted it and e-mailed it. I knew how to portray it. That wasn’t hard. There is so much material available for me to know what to say, how to say it, what to do and how to do it. I have seen it when it has been directed at me time and time again. All I had to do was mirror it. I have had enough people fall under my spell and love me so that I recognise love when I see it. It became simple enough to replicate it. My intentions really were noble. I wanted to love you and I gave you the love that I knew that you wanted. I did enough to fathom out how you wanted to be loved. Goodness knows I put in the spadework. I observed you and saw who you interacted with. I followed you to the places you frequented and noted what you ordered most often to eat and to drink. I sat behind you on the bus one time and saw the book that you read. I recognised the author so I went and bought three other of her titles and displayed them at home in readiness to show you and to let you borrow those which you had not read yet. I dispatched a Lieutenant to chat you up and gather more information for me to collate and consider. I trawled the internet looking for your footprints. I sat up late as my phone buzzed and pinged with the messages from other prospects that I was cultivating but I made them wait as I searched for you. I found you and using a reliable false profile in the name of a friend of the opposite sex to me I managed to secure your online friendship. I did not approach you directly, despite the cloak of anonymity. I preferred to walk like a ghost through your cyber world, observing your photographs and establishing the places where they were taken. I noted who your friends were, I highlighted potential competitors and I discerned who your family are. I took in the YouTube postings and when they were timed which told me you enjoyed a few glasses of wine in the evening on your own as you posted musical memories from your teenage years. I walked through your posts and your comments, picking up snippets of information that detailed your devotion to romance, your love of small dogs and your dislike of the cold. Like a silent, vast machine I remained your unseen companion for a month as I sucked up as much information as I could in order to build a picture of you and how you wanted to be loved. Each meme you posted gave me a clue. Every discussion with your friends added further layers as I created the person that would love you. I uploaded to him your interests and made them his. I bolted on the necessary skill sets which would please you. I furnished him with the choice phrases that you wanted to hear. I configured his actions, expressions, behaviours and more that would make him provide you with the love that you wanted to much and once all of this considerable preparatory work was complete I began my seduction.

I loved you. I loved you with passion, desire, attentiveness, excitement, mystery and kindness. All created from the morass of information that I had gathered about you which was layered onto my existing experience from previous relationships and my knowledge of how love operates in the world. I know that it worked. You fell for me hook, line and sinker and you became enveloped in my creation where you flourished, you shone and you bloomed. Your happiness radiated from you like sunbeams, the pleasure you took in us being together was tangible and all of those around us commented as such. It was marvellous, spectacular, wonderful and perfect.

You had no idea that my love was a creation. Why would you when not only did it match your concept of love but driven by my excellence it exceeded it? Why would you challenge something that felt so golden and so glorious? You would not. I gave you this love and you returned it. It was a match made in heaven. It was a transaction that suited us both. You received my scintillating synthetic love and you gave me the love that sustains me, that emotion infused reaction which powers and sustains me. We both were winners.

Was it such a bad thing that what I gave you was a fabrication if it looked like the real thing? I might even go so far as to say that it was even better than the real thing. Am I to be regarded as a bad person for this fraudulent act. Is it not the case that my deceit pleased you? Yes, you did not know about this deceit, you had no awareness of the fabrication but that caused you no harm did it? You saw and you believed and seeing is believing surely?

When I took you in my arms, shielding you from the black day that you had emerged from and you looked into my eyes and saw the love, the devotion and the optimism that burned there, did it really matter that I was mirroring what you showed me so long as it made you happy, elated and feel loved? My optimistic eyes were your optimistic eyes.

When I unleashed my hatred you could not and still do not understand how someone could treat you like that when that person kept saying that he loved you.

It was easy to switch to this vicious malevolence. It was easy to peel back the veneer that was the manufactured love. It was easy to switch off the creation that I made that provided you with this perfect love. A flick of a switch and he ceased to exist, leaving you with something else instead.

I did not lie when I said that I loved you.

I did not lie when I whispered that I loved you.

I did not lie when I shouted that I loved you.

I just did not tell you the truth.

The truth that I never felt love for you.

Because I cannot do that.

10 thoughts on “Tell Me That It´s True

  1. Pingback: Tell Me That It´s True — Knowing the Narcissist : HG Tudor – Fascinating
  2. empath007 says:

    This one I think hurts me the most (still) out of all the Articles. Because when he said I love you… I really believed it.

  3. Kathleen says:

    Simply explains why it’s so ez for them to move on to the next petrol station. Drinking from the new shiny pump.

  4. KellyD says:

    He only said he loved me when I was getting ready to jump. He said he’s always loved me, I just didn’t know it.
    Yeah, no. I have a cat that shows more love. And I’m not a crazy cat lady lol I’m just sayin’.

  5. Em says:

    He never told me he loved me. He told me he didn’t love me. He told me he wasn’t capable of love. It hurt and I felt sorry for him and I didn’t believe him and tried to teach him.
    Later found out he had an IPPS who he was telling he loved. Even though I knew it wasn’t true (courtesy of HG) it still hurt.

    1. empath007 says:

      Oh dam… sad emoji 😢

      Think of it this way though. At least you got the truth. She didn’t.

      But I was heartbroken just reading that, valid feelings Em.

      1. Em says:

        Thank you – I agree it’s a bitter sweet moment to realise I was being told the truth so in some ways was better off and a strange feeling that he could tell me the truth.

  6. santaann1964 says:

    It’s still so sad for me to hear your last sentence! To feel it is to enjoy the ultimate! Mr.H with all your articles I read that last sentence makes me so mad at your Mother. The one and only who is the ultimate teacher, her ultimate job with such a high standard of privilege to had given birth to a son, destroyed you emotionally. But in some ways protected you from the worst of pain.. “heartbreak” in my opinion a broken heart is the most painful experience one can endure! I just wish you broke the pattern of cruelty….
    Knowing now from your work that people do love deeply and you deserve to be lived. I pray you except that gift from one of your victims instead of destroying them! 😘

  7. Veronique Jones says:

    Yes this for me is a red flag my ex narcissist seemed to instinctively know everything about me he used important date to me like my birthday to see me when I hadn’t told him myself later I found out that he had gathered information about me from other people I felt really betrayed it’s then that I first started to pull away everything felt like a lie to familiar is something that will make me feel like it’s false
    Having narcissistic parents especially my mother and also my brother I pick up the subtle things easy

  8. neverchangeamanda says:

    This hurts.

    I’m sure I saw a shadow of someone sweep past my window so many times. A quick fluid movement from my corner of my eye, as I went from room to room, some nights.

    How did he always txt me exactly, at the time I was making love with my partner? Or at the exact moment we finished?

    How did he tell me I looked so beautiful those nights when we were not together.

    How did he tell me I was a queen, not just a princess after my partner had said the exact sentence to me only the night before?

    How did he know that I had googled the name of the very private and isolated hotel he had mentioned to me. The one with the fire place and that inviting spa bath!? The sweeping, grand cathedral ceilings with the faded, wooden, exposed beams, that showed the years of history they had seen?

    It was uncanny how similar we were, he said. We are so connected. We are on the same frequency. He can feel me with him. Can I feel him there with me too?

    Yes!!! I really can!!! It’s everywhere around me.

    My favourite chocolates gifted to me at work. My favourite wine.

    He loved cats so much that he purchased 2 right after I mentioned, my adoration of the loyal and affectionate Burmese breed who even play fetch with their owners. He loved cats too! We both had 2 now!

    Why hadn’t I watched the movie he told me about yet?

    What is that awful music I was listening to in my car last week?

    I was smoking electronic cigarettes and he just HAD to have my email address so I could help him with them. That was his in. Of course I would help! As much as I could!

    What was the file he sent me that I opened and then nothing happened. When I asked him about it, he said he never sent me anything. Then a week later, he told me I had sent him a file that I really had not.


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