I knew it from the start
- annonymous
- Jun 8, 2018
- 1 min read
Realising that the dickwad is a narcissist isn't new. There was obviously something psychopathically self-serving about him from the start, but I allowed his charisma, sex appeal and the trappings of his supposed success to cloud my judgement.
Sound familiar?
I tried to ignore his incessant patter about him being among "The 5%" and let it wash over me like an inconsequential joke. I convinced myself that his arrogant worldview was an Open-Sesame to achievement and perhaps something to be admired: As a struggling entrepreneur at the time, I was keen to be mentored and guided along a path to greatness. To me, this sexy guy with apparent ambition seemed like he would literally and figuratively take me places, even though so much of the journey felt disturbingly wrong.
Friends of mine saw what was happening and tried to warn me, in the subtle way that friends do when they're watching a car crash but don't want to get thwacked in the head by a flying tire. I defended my relationship in terms that I thought were exceptionally clever: I loved him because he'd created himself, like a work of art. He'd sculpted his own body (a gym obsessive) and shaped his own mind (a bonafide autodidact) bringing form to his being like a beautiful sculpture moulded from earthen clay. Not only was I in love with the sculpture, I would wax lyrically to my wary friends, but with the artist himself!
What a fucking load of crap.
To quote from Psychology Today, the narcissist loves "the idealized image of themselves, which they convince themselves they embody". I convinced myself too.
