What Fuel Feels Like to a 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.
9 thoughts on “What Fuel Feels Like to a Narcissist”
Unfortunately, I identify with this. Love it or hate it, but don’t ignore it.
Aaaaah, quick translations, I guess I was tired. Of course, was supposed to be:
Love or hate, but don’t ignore.
My sister’s new boyfriend is a narcissist, and it breaks my heart. I’m his new favorite sister-in-law. Keeping him highly Fueled and the center of attention throughout Halloween festivities—as long as my sister was happy. Then…
there was a family emergency. He didn’t offer to help drive or anything at all. She forgot to respond to his text—when she realized, she was horrified. I told her he was probably worried, but she said he’d be angry…
He wasn’t angry. He didn’t care. She was under Control. She knew exactly where she was and with his favorite SIL and was doing whatever with another IPSS.
I’ll catch her when she admits the truth. No judgment. All love. I love her so much. 💔
I guess I’m venting since it’s so easy to ensnare us, and I’m the only one who sees.
From May – “I don’t yet understand how the positive is different from any couple who are happy to see each other, happy to experience things together, happy to know that they make each other happy and fulfilled.”
I think I have figured this out now. It is not the give and take of two non-narcissists, it is the give of one and the take of the other, as all interactions with narcissists seem to be. We just don’t recognize it in the GP and in the devaluation we don’t understand it, what they’re taking/getting from us.
It is not a matter of enjoying these things because they love us, or even because they hate us, it is a matter of watching us and sucking up our output for their power. We are really used. Ugh.
Use them back! Fight the power! Ok I must admit I’ve been listening to Public Enemy. But you have control and knowledge now! FIGHT BACK.
I will try!! 💪😀💖
One of my favourite articles. And recalling my comment in relation to science and mathematics of ‘laws of attraction’ where unaware empaths and unaware narcissists ‘instinctively connect’. They are unconsciously ‘attracted’ because of what they may have in common – narcissistic abuse from those who are supposed to be the ‘protectors’. They seem to ‘recognise’ each other through experiences of their pasts.
I am more interested in situations in which they attract themselves:
– conscious empath and unconscious narcissist
– conscious empath and conscious narcissist
Because I am convinced that the pull is still huge. It’s like an instinct, that can’t be stopped.
Joa, yes, from my experience, I would suggest it is more instinctual. “unconscious narcissist” sounds about right 😉 Having said that, there are times when I have felt a ‘warning’ in relation to some in the past, like my instincts were saying ‘ugh’. It is interesting about the ‘law of physics’ and human instincts…….