My Story

**It's my first time posting, and it's a long one. Thank you to whoever reads through this!*

I met the N in the spring. It was 2007, and I had been single for about two years. The last guy was angry and verbally abusive, and I was glad to be done with that chapter of my life. Even before I met him, I had this sense of happy anticipation, like I knew something amazing was just around the corner for me. We met on a dating site. I came across his profile picture--a photo of him shirtless posing by a car. He had an awesome body and looked like he spent hours in the gym. I normally would have passed right by this type of guy, I was SO not into the whole vain, gym rat thing, but my friend kept telling me to go ahead and send him a message. So I did, totally not expecting him to respond. But, low and behold, he did respond. And even crazier was the fact that I felt more comfortable talking with him than any of the other guys I had met so far on the site. We seemed to share the same sense of humor, and he didn't pressure me to meet right away. We actually spent almost a month just chatting via instant message. He was just coming out of a divorce, and was trying to "take things slow and become friends first".

Looking back, yes, he spent a lot of time whining about the divorce and how he had been wronged. I know I'll never know her side of the story, but according to him all she cared about was money, she was cold, lazy, demanding, and just a general bitch. He said that he agreed to go to marriage counseling with her toward the end to try to "save" things, but she ended up moving out anyway during this process (oh, and the counselor apparently told him that there was nothing wrong with him and she was the whole problem...righto.) It seems she wanted to take some time and just be separated and try to mend things after they had some time apart. He told me that was when he filed for divorce--he felt like she thought she was just going to have the chance to go out and be single and live it up, while he was "in it for life." Huge red flags in retrospect, but at the time I believed him, that he had been burned, and I totally catered to his playing the victim. Actually, now that I think of it, his being freshly divorced served him well as far as our relationship went. It meant that he would have an excuse as to why he couldn't fully commit to me--he just wasn't ready. He would go on about how he would never get married again, didn't want kids, wanted to get a vasectomy so no one could "trap" him (seems his ex wanted kids and eventually just stopped taking her birth control without his knowledge and when he found out he was horrified). But I just chalked all this talk up to him still recovering from things and figured in time he'd change his mind. There were other red flags, too--as I suspected, his body was no coincidence, he DID spend hours in the gym, and had done some modeling in years past. He was quite vain, almost obsessive about his appearance. He told me that as far as the dating site went, he felt that everyone should be required to post pics of themselves in bathing suits, so there was no deception (how ironic, right) and that if he was going to be involved with anyone, she had to be hot. He would tell me that he was actually really insecure deep down, and looking a certain way was how he was able to feel good about himself. There was a ton of other stuff along these lines I could mention, but the point is that I knew he was very obsessed with himself and regarded his appearance as his best quality and expected the same of his partner. I suppose that I felt special that he had deemed me worthy of being seen with him, like I had passed some sort of test.

I guess I should mention that he was not a loud, aggressive, pompous asshole. He actually had a quiet, sensitive, nurturing side before I met him, marriage had never occurred to me. I was 25, and although I'd had plenty of boyfriends, marriage always seemed to me like some far off thing. But with him, I felt like I suddenly understood what everyone meant when they said "when you find the one you're meant to be with, you KNOW." He was extremely good looking, funny, was financially responsible, the whole package. I felt such a connection with him, I can't even describe it. I had a lot of loss in my life, lost my parents young, and there was something about him, his mannerisms, that reminded me of my father. I felt like I was home. It was such an amazing feeling, I would have done anything for this guy. Looking back I wish that I would have just skipped right over his photo on that site, or paid more attention to the warning signs. In the end I feel like all he did was taunt me, show me the image of everything I ever wanted in a man, and then said "but you can't have it" and ripped it away.

So after we met online we dated for about three months. It was during this time that I became aware of the porn. I was at his house and went to his computer to check my email, and was immediately greeted by the sight of bent over women, bare asses in my face. I was like, "uhmmm..." I was confused. We had only been seeing each other for 3 months, but I was already beginning to feel like the sex was sort of lagging. As in, he didn't seem to want to do it as much. I didn't make a big deal about it, but I mentioned it to him and he was totally embarassed. He told me that he'd been single for a while and it was just something he did sometimes, but that if it bothered me he'd stop. I said ok, whatever. To me porn isn't a big deal, except when it starts to take precedence over the relationship, and I didn't yet feel like that had happened.

A few weeks later, he broke up with me. He said he just wasn't ready, he can't handle a relationship, things are getting too intense, the whole bit. I was sad but not devastated; I was trying to be understanding and acknowledge that perhaps things were moving too fast for him. He did want to remain friends, so for the next few months we remained in contact. We hung out a few times, for Halloween we carved pumpkins and watched horror movies just like, well, friends. The whole time though I was waiting for him to change his mind, to tell me he still had feelings for me. Right before Christmas it finally happened--we had been spending more time together and I felt like he was about to make a move. Christmas eve at his house was magical--the tree was lit, the fireplace was going, we were sitting on the couch, and he actually got down on his knees, took my hand, looked into my eyes and told me "You are amazing. I don't ever want you to not be in my life." He wanted me back, he was ready to give it another try, for real this time, he told me everything I had been waiting to hear, especially that marriage wasn't something he was hesitant about anymore and hoped was something we could aim for. He was always the best at gift-giving, and he had the greatest presents for me. I could have cried with happiness. I'm sure I did. And we were together again.

I was in a state of bliss. I met his parents, he told me he loved me, the whole nine yards. I felt like things were really moving forward, but at the same time, the nitpicking began. It was like things would be so perfect and he couldn't handle it, needed to shake things up by finding fault with me. It was like clockwork, ever few weeks. Like a cycle, he things would be peaceful, then he would become withdrawn, sulk a lot, and then finally tell me what the problem was (something I was doing or not doing). We would hash it out, compromise, whatever--and things would be ok til the next episode. His big issue was that I wasn't as into working out as he was. And I had put on some weight from all the cooking and "nesting" I was doing. He never outright called me fat, but definitely hinted around it. (I wasn't fat, by the way, just no longer up to his standards I guess. He picked apart what I ate, and then sulked and brooded about it. That spring it got to be too much and I stopped talking to him and didn't see him for two weeks. I thought maybe that would get the point across that he was being hurtful. We finally communicated by email, and he told me that he was acting this way because he felt that I was "so close to being perfect for him that he was frustrated waiting for it to finally happen." I told him he had some issues and maybe he should get some help. He said, "yeah, maybe you're right...but I'm not gonna change. I've done pretty well for myself. I have a house, a nice car, a lot of cool shit, and I look good. I guess that's all I have guaranteed to me. The perfect girl I guess I just can't get."

Looking back I can see that this is a classic, telltale narcissistic thing to say, but at the time I still thought there was hope. As many others have stated, the bad was interspersed with the wonderful, which is precisely what makes it so difficult to extract oneself from a relationship with a Narc. Those on the outside may think, "well, he sounds like a jerk, just be done with him." But it wasn't that simple. I didn't think he was a jerk. He did jerk-like things, but who didn't? Who doesn't have issues? And relationships take work, and that I was willing to do. I just had no idea I was the only one doing any work.

The porn kept popping up though (no pun intended.) I was spending most of my time at his house, and my computer wasn't working, so I was using his. To this day I don't know if he purposely didn't close out the window he was viewing it on, if he actually wanted me to see. But it was becoming clear that he had pretty much lost interest in sleeping with me, and preferred to whack off to porn. I remember one specific incident where I had tried to initiate sex, and he actually pushed me away and whined "stop!" The next morning, yup, you guessed it, the window had been left open and I was greeted again with bare asses in my face. It had become a major issue at this point, but each time I brought it up he would apologize, act ashamed, and say he'd stop. It was at the point where he was turning down sex with an actual woman to masturbate to porn, but I was in denial mode. I didn't really want to entertain the real thoughts that I was having--that I wasn't pretty enough, or thin enough, or sexy enough.

The final straw came almost a year later when his mother was visiting. It's been said that many Narcs' issues stem from their mothers, and I can totally see that in his case. While he was working, I was carting her around, which was no picnic, let me tell you. So we come home, and start cooking dinner before he was due home from work. At some point I went to the computer to look up a recipe, and bam! There was the porn again. I didn't say a word, just went back into the kitchen and continued cooking. When he came home, I followed him into the computer room, shut the door, and let him have it. I threw things. I screamed. He just sat there looking shocked. And then...I hauled off and slapped him. Hard. He almost fell off the chair. I'm not proud of it, but even I didn't see it coming. It was the result of months of pent-up anger at being put on a shelf, of being sexually ignored, of being lied to.

After that, it was over. He was angry, and I'd never seen him angry before. I ran outside, started my car, and he came running out telling me I'd better pack up all my shit because I wasn't coming back. I just drove away, crying hysterically. A few days later I called him, trying to make sense of things, and he was totally cold. He said some very, very cruel things to me that haunted me for years afterward--I had no goals, he wasn't attracted to me, he just wanted to be alone, and so on. I was absolutely deflated, crushed. He told me that all my things were packed up and I should come get them asap.

What can I say about that time in my life? It was dark. For the first two months, I let things be. I STILL thought there was hope to work things out after the dust had settled. I had tried to email him a couple times, but he wouldn't reply. I was so drained. I had given this guy everything I had, my whole heart it felt like, an he didn't want it, even after everything he had told me. I just couldn't believe things were over. I beat myself up over what I thought to be my part in it all--slapping him. Yes, I had been pushed, but I had resorted to violence and ruined things. Nevermind what HE had done to drive me to that point, I fully blamed myself. I should mention here that shortly after this happened, I became very suspicious of him and, thanks to the internet, became an amateur detective. What I found shocked me--this was back in the height of Myspace popularity, and he was using it as a way to communicate with skanks across America. Exchanging pictures, lots of sexy talk, etc. I could NOT believe it. Who was this person?? Despite everything I genuinely thought he was a decent, good guy. This was like a step above cheating. When I confronted him with what I found he lashed out at me, very defensive and angry. I asked him point blank if he had actually cheated and he said "How the hell could I have, with you up my ass 24/7 and living at my house??"

Around this time, I also decided to drive by his house. I was NOT prepared to see a another car there. What happened to just wanting to be alone? Another lie. I completely lost my mind, became obsessed with finding out what was going on. I became Crazy Stalker Lady. I did detective work. I found out who this woman was. I read her Facebook. I could not stop prying into this situation. By then I no longer was in contact at all with him, but I literally could not stop myself from sneaking around and finding out what he was doing. Even though it made me emotionally and physically sick, I couldn't stop. It was like a twisted movie I couldn't tear myself away from. It gave me some sort of sense of control, I suppose. I lost so much weight from sheer stress at this point, I had to drop out of school because my anxiety was so bad. I could not get my head around the fact that after everything he had said to me, the connection we had, that he could just move on so quickly. The pain was just all-consuming; I was barely functioning. Eventually I had to stop because very time I got curious I learned something more painful. They were professing their love for each other. She was moving in. Facebook was like their personal forum to broadcast their love and I just couldn't take it anymore. So I sort of weaned myself off of the whole investigation and drive-bys. I didn't Facebook spy for almost a year, and when I did, I saw their wedding picture and was immediately thrown into another depression. After all that talk about never marrying again, I guess he DID want to get married, just not to me. I guess he found the right person. I was miserable. I hadn't spoken to him in two years and thought I had recovered but when I saw that picture I was hurt all over again. I finally learned my lesson and completely stopped spying, period. I somehow just figured out how to let things be.

That was in 2010. Fast forward to December 2012. I had dated a bit, nothing serious, and was finishing my teaching degree (no goals, huh?). Out of the blue I get an email...from him. Apologizing for "being so rude" and wondering what kind of gift he can give me to make up for it? I couldn't believe it...it was like everything was coming full circle. Of course I had to speak to him. He told me he had met someone who "devastated" him (of course everything was all her fault; he didn't realize she was a drug addict, and besides that, he said her attitude changed pretty quick after they married. In retrospect I think that this woman's drug problem probably resurfaced as a result of being in a relationship with a narcissist, but I'm not going to find out the truth anytime soon) and, after lengthy conversation and catching up he told me that he wanted another chance with me, that he messed things up big time, that he had grown up a lot in the past four years, and now he can finally be the man I've always wanted him to be, that he needed this past relationship to make him realize what he had lost when he lost me, that it was never me, it was him, and that I made him happy and he made himself sad, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making things up to me, etc. When I asked him why he got married to someone else when he was so against it with me he didn't really have an answer but told me it was because with me he was scared, and he wanted to start going to therapy to figure out why he kept running.

He did say a lot of things that were very telling in retrospect, like how he's obsessed with trying to make himself happy, for instance, but at the time i was just so taken with how genuine he sounded, and he actually cried. We did a lot of talking, and what really struck me was that he remembered everything, like specific details and memories of our times together. Like it was all so fresh in his mind and he had never forgotten. He kept things I had given him and he told me he had never completely gotten over me. He said he'd first like to try to rebuild the friendship we had, but that he hoped it would grow into what we had before, only better.

And you know what? I was cautious, but I believed him. Again. I thought it was too good to be true, everyone dreams of having the ex that seemingly moved on come back and admit he was wrong. And he had a lot of owning up and apologizing to do. I thought, wow, it really takes guts to admit to things like that, to take the blame. And so I took him back. I trusted that he meant what he said this time. He had roses and champagne and chocolate covered strawberries for me. He bought me a crazy expensive computer for Christmas, along with a card in which he had written lots of heartfelt (or so I thought) things. I told him, I'm getting older, at this point I'm thinking marriage and kids, so if any of that's off the table for you, you shouldn't be back. I'm not saying in the immediate future, but in the future. And he told me he wanted to take it slow, but for the first time he had been wondering what he's missing by not having a child. So we would lay in bed and discuss baby names. The whole time I was trying to figure out if he was truly different, and I decided that he was, in a way. He seemed kinder, somehow.

In the back of my mind I KNEW that as soon as I gave in and he knew he "had" me, once the novelty wore off, he would lose interest. So I kept telling myself, "make this hard for him! Make him work for you!" But I just couldn't. And yup, pretty much right after I told him I still loved him, the point where he knew I was smitten, he stopped trying. I felt something change. The sweet texts stopped. He became more withdrawn, choosing to play his computer game rather than spend time with me. Then he started having trouble "getting it up" in bed. I was like, you've gotta be kidding. He went through all that to get back in my good graces, and now he's not interested? I guess I was lucky in a way, because this time it was like someone had pressed a fast forward button. The whole process took about a month and a half, rather than years this time. He didn't pick on me or insult me at all during this time, though. He just went from texting me constantly and wanting to spend all his time with me to totally backtracking. Finally one day I got a text that said, "We ARE friends, right?" I went nuts. I told him everything--he was completely crazy, how dare he come back after four years and run away AGAIN, who brings someone they want to be FRIENDS with strawberries and champagne, much less name their future children, he's on his second failed marriage and he can't make things work with me either so maybe it's time to figure out what the common denominator is here...He seriously tried to make it seem like he was just trying to save our friendship and that it wasn't his fault if I had misunderstood his intentions. He blamed me for making plans for the future with him, and said that just because he's not going along with what I want, that now he's evil again, and it isn't fair, but at least I got a nice computer out of the deal. He finally admitted he probably is crazy but in such a nonchalant way, like, "yeah, I told you I need to see a shrink." This time I felt like it was crystal clear that he was beyond crazy, that it definitely wasn't me. If anything, he reappeared in my life just to give me a little clarity, so I could see with older and wiser eyes that he is a very disordered person. I know I should at least be thankful for that.

But still, it hurts. It's like he came back, reopened a massive wound, picked at it a while, then left. The whole thing reminds me of how a cat plays with its prey before it kills it. Bob Marley is quoted as saying, "the biggest coward is a man who awakens the love of a woman with no intention of loving her." I think that fits perfectly here. He's a coward, plain and simple. And the worst thing is, knowing this, I still miss him. Last March, I decided to text him, to see how he was. He was happy to talk about himself, and finally I said, "I'm fine, thanks for asking." And he just stopped replying. Last month, I stupidly initiated contact again. I asked if he thought we could ever get to the point where we could just be friends. He actually replied and said probably not, because he just sold his house and is moving back home (700 miles away). I was in utter shock. Always the victim, he said that he misses his parents and that this is a cold-hearted and unlucky state. (Of course it's the state's fault, right?) He said I should be glad to be rid of him, all he does is hurt people. I can't help but wonder if it's the fact that he's screwed over three separate women that has made him unable to live in that house anymore, but truthfully I think it has more to do with the fact that his beloved dog passed away in January. I asked him if he was going to tell me he was leaving, and he said no, why would he have? I told him I was sad about him leaving (giving him more supply in the process, no doubt) and he said nah, it's not sad...we weren't even talking anyway.

I just feel so...empty. After he told me I cried for three days straight, uncontrollably. Yes, I should feel like "good riddance" but I don't. I feel like a chunk of me is missing. Such an odd reaction to have. It occurred to me that maybe this is some kind of joke, that he's not really leaving, so the other night I drove by the house, and there were for sale signs and his cars were gone. I just felt such an overwhelming sense of sadness. I just pulled over and cried. It's the end of an era. I looked at that house and saw the 25 year old me, full of hope and happiness. I saw his dog, young and healthy, bounding around the yard. So many memories in that house. So weird to see it sitting dark, and to think it's no longer his. I didn't see this coming. In January he made no mention of moving. I guess I always thought there would be another chance, that he would actually go to therapy and get better. In fact, until I found out he was leaving I didn't grieve the loss of this relationship this time around. I just told myself he was crazy, sucked it up, stuffed it down, and went on living. But now I have to face that it's really over...again, most likely for good. I probably will never see him again. Part of me feels like, how could you come back after all that time, stir everything up again, and then literally pack up and move? I can't help but wonder if he has new supply in the form of a woman back home, or if it's simply the idea of picking up and starting over that's his supply. Maybe he knows deep down that he's fucked things up so badly here for the past 12 years that he has to get out.

I hate the days I have where everything triggers thoughts of him. It's like he totally infiltrates all my senses and I can't get away. I have these visions of him moving back home where he's comfortable, and getting to start over and actually being better. Starting a whole new amazing life. I am actually jealous that he gets to leave, leave all the pain that HE caused and have the comfort of his family around him, while I have to stay here surrounded by all the memories and the horrible realization that all I was to him was supply, an ego boost. He didn't come back because he loved and missed me, he came back because he sensed I would take him back when there was no one else. I fell right into it. I bought all of it, and I feel ridiculous.