What Fuel Feels Like To The Narcissist
When I look at you and see the delight cross your face as you spot me across the room, I feel the flame of attention ignite inside me as the first sensation of power booms into life. I have learned that your smile, the widening of your eyes and your hurrying towards me is indicative of delight and happiness on your part. I feed from this allowing my eyes to drink in the fuel that emanates from your expressions. When I gaze at you beneath me, writhing against me, mouth open and flush of sensual desire spreading across your chest, the flames burn fiercer as I watch with such attentiveness the flaring of your orgasm. I study your reaction to our coupling, noting the detail of the way you twist your head, the slight flare of your nostrils, the flailing limbs. I watch and I absorb, committing your reaction to my memory as I avail myself of the fuel that you are providing for me. When I stand and stare at you, that baleful glare piercing you from my darkened ink-like eyes, I am savouring your trembling stance, the fear that you are trying to hide cannot be hidden as you clutch at the arm of the chair to steady yourself, your eyes welling with tears. I stand and I stare,my stare generating your fearfulness and at the same time absorbing the fuel that flows from your frightened state.
When I hear you call my name, that upwards lilt in your voice, the light inflection which denotes that you are pleased to see me, I feel the fuel embracing the fire inside me, allowing the flames to burn a little brighter and stoking the engine that provides me with my sensation of power. I do not feel delight,I do not feel joy, I will replicate the way you look in order to make you think that I feel them, but as I hear your fuel-laden words as they break upon my ears, all that I feel is power. Power than I cause you to feel so elated when you call out to me from another room or speak down the telephone to me on repeated occasions throughout the day. When I hear your shouted insults, the waves of fuel wash against my ears, emotion-laden labels which do not perturb me, unless I choose to feign that I do, in order to provoke you further. I hear the sound of birdsong, I hear the sounds of a cheering crowd and I hear the first strains of a piece of music that appeals to me, yet none of those things comes to close to making me feel the way I do when you shout, cry, laugh, scream, moan and sigh because of me. Your words of praise move me through the gracing of power far more than the strings of a famous orchestra. Your words of scorn generate a far greater reaction for me than the roar of a crowd as my team scores the winning goal.
When I taste, I taste so much more than the food in my mouth or the drink I have just taken a swig of. You bought me that drink and imbued within that mug of coffee or glass of beer I can taste your interest, your appreciation and your affection. Your empathic print is on all that you say and do, your actions and words are embodied in the cake that you baked for me. I tell you the slice you have cut for me is delicious and of course it is, you are an excellent baker, but what I really taste is the care and attention you dedicated to me as you made that cake for me. Every meal you place before me may taste of different ingredients but the one which always tastes finest to me is the emotion that you have imbued it with. Whether it is a lovingly prepared three course dinner or a slammed down plate of spaghetti bolognaise, the emotion you imbue into those meals always tastes better than the meals themselves.
When I smell that delightful fragrance I feel once more the power rising inside me as I latch on to the fuel that you provide to me. Your action in putting on that scent which I have told you is my favourite goes far beyond the pleasant smell of jasmine or sandalwood. The fragrance tells me how you want me to be pleased by your wearing it, how you wish to smell attractive for me and thus I am empowered by your action as my nose senses the fragrance. The smell of freshly laundered clothing or bedding, that clean scent is imbued with you caring for me, attending to my washing and the housework and once again the smell of this act of kindness, of affection and of caring provides me with the fuel that I crave. Even when I tell you that I no longer like a certain perfume you wear, in order to provoke a reaction from you, when you wear it as an act of defiance, you provide me with yet more fuel from this act which is encapsulated in the scent. When you stand fuming, cigarette in hand, the smell of the smoke contains your anger, your irritation and it smells as sweet to me as a blossoming rose might to you.
When I hold your hand and I feel your pleasure in me taking your hand in mine, the fuel flows once again. As I feel your skin beneath my fingers, I know that the emotions that erupt as I do so will fuel me further. From my lips against your lips through to moving inside of you, I feel as anyone would, but I feel so much more because I feel your emotion through my touch and your touch upon me. The emptiness that consumes me acts with the power of a huge black hole which sucks all the emotion you exude into me. When I feel your touch upon me, the fuel flows once again and you allow the simmering flames to rise higher because of the light application of your fingers on the nape of my neck. The pressure of your arms about me as you hug me tightly signifies the deep-seated love and affection which you have for me. It powers through me, invigorating and awakening, providing me with the power that I need to keep on doing that which I must do.
The sting of your hand as it slaps my face, punishment for another of my transgressions as I sought out the touch of another outside our relationship, will hurt my face, I am after all human in the physical sense at least. The sting that you have left however is readily dwarfed by the surge of power I feel inside me at your emotion-filled violence towards me. Touch me, stroke me, hold me, strike me, push me and pull me, it all amounts to a connection between you and I that sends the fuel flowing from you to me. When I no longer tolerate the affectionate and intimate touches, I crave instead for the terrified grab of my arm or the defensive shove to keep me away from you. I may no longer want you to hold my hand, kiss me or place a delicate hand upon my brow, instead I will welcome the physical manifestation of your anger, your frustration and your fear.
Everything that you say and do will be absorbed through my senses, what I see in you, what I hear you say, what I taste, what I smell and what I feel from your touch, they all provide conduits for me to gather fuel. I am a vast machine which is sucking the emotion from you through all of my five senses in order to try to fill this immense emptiness inside me. You make my senses come alive, albeit it for one purpose and this happens in a way that causes the sensations you feel from the use of your senses to pale by comparison. You truly fill up my senses.
18 thoughts on “What Fuel Feels Like To The Narcissist”
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What is so interesting is that “normal” people and empaths feel loved by many of the same things, food prepared by loving hands, amazing sex, seeing a loved ones excitement at seeing a loved one, a loving touch. But, with the narcissist it goes beyond feeling loved to a bottomless pit of loveless-ness that needs constant filling, but which can never be filled, and morphs into a sensation of power to spur the narcissist on to acquire more, eventually draining the love-giver dry of all she or he has. This extreme neediness is the saddest thing ever. I wish someone would find a way to plug the hole the love leaks out of or fill the love “tank” most of the way so they wouldn’t feel this need. There seem to be some good things about at least some narcs, it is hard to give those up for the bad, as necessary as it might be. Okay, yes, I am talking about the narc I ended it with. I liked a lot of things about him even as I know he’s unsafe.
I thought there were good things about my narc/s as well. I convinced myself. The mirroring is exceptional at times. And what they are mirroring is what they think you want to see. It’s all par for the course to ensnare you. Eventually that balance will tip so the bad far outweighs the good. And by then you are often in too deep to be able to resist, and respite periods will keep you there. That’s the cycle, and if I look back I could say the same thing. I liked a lot of things about my narc, too. Sadly, it was all an illusion. Certainly the belief that he actually felt the same way about me that I felt about him. I was just an appliance to him.
The most important thing you said, AV, was that you know he is unsafe. Keep that thought front and centre x
Ah yes, thank you LET! I needed that reminder about the mirroring!! I’ve literally been sitting here in tears, as I’m working, because I can’t congratulate him on his new liver! It’s been 47, yes I’ve been counting, hours since he called and left the message that he got one. And I am very happy for him, though I don’t want him back, but my ET does. So, I know I can’t and it’s all overwhelming me and making me teary. Anyway, thank you so much for the reminder that it’s all just fake!
No problem, AV. I’m sorry you are finding it so difficult at the moment. Those tears are real, even if they relate to an illusion, and I know those tears, too. There is real grief attached to letting go of a relationship you believe to be genuine in all respects.
I remember watching a stupid, and kind of sweet, short (film) a few days after my first disengagement from the narc late last year. It was an animated short and related to a relationship, but not a romantic one. Anyway the theme of the short was loss, and it was a cue for the floodgates to open. I’d held my own, put on a brave face, and was completely taken by surprise at the sense of grief that overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t hold that dam back and I couldn’t stop. In the end it was cathartic. I needed to experience the grief of letting go. Because even if he didn’t care (in reality), I did. And had put so much of myself into that relationship. He threw it away without a second thought. Those are the two sides to what is happening. And it’s hard to be the one to make the decision to end it.
His new liver is a calling card for more of your attention and potentially more of his abuse. I’m not sure if you can verify all he is telling you re: his circumstances, but that is neither here nor there at this stage. What you do know is that he is an unsafe and possibly unstable individual who you need to steer clear of for the sake of your own health. Counting the hours is an indication of his hold over you and the level of your ET right now, which is understandable in the circumstances. I’m glad you’re here to get the support your need <3
Yes, you understand. It is good to be here, where people understand. It is the dashing of hope in the relationship itself and the dashing of hope that the relationship sparked in me. For a decade, I did not expect to have a relationship ever again. Then I get this one. So, it’s about that probably as much as it is him/faux him.
And, I have a good friend who is in the middle of a horrible divorce from a narcissist. They were married 27 years! I have nothing to complain about. At least, as a result of being here, I have been able to understand what she’s going through a bit better.
It is surprising sometimes what triggers our tears, I’m glad you felt better after yours. 🙂
I don’t think the saddest thing is being unable to fill the hole in the narc love tank. I think the saddest thing is that we continue to try even when we know what they are, or in the case that we do not – to recognize that at the very least our repeated efforts are not working. We are squandering our efforts and keeping from filling those who are able to accept it and where it could actually make a difference. We drain ourselves on the undeserving. That’s the saddest thing to me.
NA, have to agree with you on this one and you make a excellent point. It is the constant trying and trying to the point where it just drains you out completely. Thinking we can fix the problem when it cant be fixed . Giving all we can until eventually we cant anymore .
You are correct, I need to adjust my thinking. Thank you.
I wonder if imagining a fire-thrower in reverse can give an idea of what fuel being received is like for a narcissist may ‘consume’ the flame of fuel? Am I making sense here? Probably not. Anyways.
Maybe that fuel also is physically addictive, like dopamine? I can relate when the world feels locked behind a big plastic wall ( like dissociative or depression or just isolation) but interaction with someone makes that wall vanish. Not addictive , so it doesn’t fuel, but what if that simple action would be addictive, and from it dopamine would arrive ? Only to happen in case of admiration or despair?
Oh HG I have so many questions and it is so interesting also on a academic level. I hope you don’t mind me writing all these questions to you. I just wait patiently which ones you do or don’t want to pass. I have no antenna for it yet 🙂 And I remember an article in the beginning that we were encouraged also to challenge views. So I just write them to you.
Fieke
You are always welcome to ask questions, they may not always be answered but do not let that you dissuade you from asking. Please see the Rules as to why questions may not be answered.
Hi HG, Thank you so much for your answer! I will ask and just see in due time. Feeling less like I am bothering you, thank you for saying so.
Understanding the rules also; I just read in one of your books and got the answer to my question about addictiveness. It happens all the time, me wondering about it something and reading you explaining it somewhere else. Your material is very thoroughly. ( if that is even a real word).
Now I am reading the sex book.
I can imagine that the behaviour and attitude on sex towards a DLS is a little different than towards an IPPS. There is no devaluation and no shut down, also no force. There are very specific requests that felt unnatural to me, and drained from real intimacy. Things that maybe gave to much control to an IPPS to do with her.
Hope to learn more about that in the book; if not please, refer me to a different book or article if you already have written about it.
Thanks again, really enjoying your knowledge.
Best, Fieke
Wow , I didnt know the Fuel was so intense HG.
I mean it feels like the Fire Department needs to come quickly and put out the fire before the place burns diown.
LOL, I mentioned ‘Mills & Boon’ last time. That’s so tame! There’s been some interesting ‘conversations’ since! LOL.
“slammed down plate”. LOL. No spoken words needed. LOL.