Untangled 1: he was engaged

When I met my first narcissist I was a year out of a dating situationship that left me vulnerable. I thought I needed someone to get over the last someone. I didn’t want to sit in my feelings and get whole, like I knew I should. I needed to know I was wanted, the revelation that God had already accepted me wasn’t a reality to me. I wanted to prove the last guy wrong. 

I dated a man for a few months in 2013. After about six months, I blew up on him while visiting one weekend. He had a cool cruel way about himself. He would say things with a sharp point but bluntly if you catch my drift. There was no regard for me, I knew that, but this day I had enough. This particular day, in conversation, he told me to shut up so I blew up and stormed out. After about two days, I regretted that decision. I didn’t miss him, per se—I missed the routine. I missed hearing his ringtone every night at 8 p.m. sharp and the assumed dates every weekend. I was willing to forget the disrespect, cruelty, and his nonchalant demeanor, but for how long? I knew we wouldn’t go the distance because he was a jerk. I was painting him like a good guy but I knew deep down he was who he was and I had no right to not believe him. 

Slowly, he started back texting me sporadically. I sensed I was now being put in rotation—or, as I like to say, on a chain of fools. He would text occasionally and call even less occasionally. He kept the conversation surface-level to make me want more. It worked. I found myself apologizing for his actions and biting my tongue when he would suggest I go to the gym more, not post as much on social media, trade my Nissan Murano for a Chevy Cruze or putting my teenage daughter out on the street. This went on for about a year and a half. I saw him once in that time. I would cry myself to sleep many nights trying to understand what was wrong with me. I hated myself. I didn’t know what to do to be better, to be one of the women who just “take it” and live happily ever after. So I worked on my appearance, I lost weight, I started wearing makeup, I posted thirst traps (provocative pictures) on Facebook, and commented on all of his posts. I did all the things a woman does when she doesn’t know her value.

It seemed to be working because two days before Christmas 2015, he called and asked if he could come over for Christmas Eve. I was elated for this buttered breadcrumb. I felt like he was finally going to give us another chance. I ran out and got them gifts for Christmas and cooked a big dinner last minute Christmas Eve. He came down with his 9-year-old daughter late Christmas Eve. I minded the intrusion but I didn’t, I would’ve stayed up to 4am for a chance to see him again. He didn’t seem happy to see me. I was expecting a smile or even a hug, there was nothing. It felt like he was there under duress. I knew there would be no heart to heart conversation. He and his daughter slept in my bedroom, and I slept on the couch. In the middle of the night I woke to him standing over me staring in my face. I thought he wanted to talk, but he didn’t.. he turned and went back into my bedroom and closed the door. The next morning they left as quickly as they came. As I watched him get into his suv and wave I knew that was the last time I would see him. 

He sent me one closed ended text on New Year. It simply said “Happy New Year” when I responded he said nothing. That bothered me, even though I knew I could never be with him. I knew the last visit was the last visit but I needed to be sure. Also deep down, I still wanted to “win,” so I decided to see this through. So I took myself off the shelf and made myself mentally available for him alone. 

One day in March of 2016, I was leaving work and scrolling Facebook when I came across a  post from him. My stomach dropped when I noticed that his profile picture had changed. He had never changed it, so I knew something was wrong. I clicked the picture, and it was him standing in a hallway laughing with a woman. It felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on me. I was sick to my stomach. He had never looked so happy. My ears and neck got hot, and I couldn’t stop the flood of tears from wetting my coat. I tried to tell myself that it was a friend or cousin, but I knew.

I sat behind my steering wheel in disbelief before I worked up the courage to go to the comments in search of confirmation. I was being crazy, right? He was just at my house not four months ago. There was no way he met, got to know, and asked a woman to marry him in that short time. I needed to know. There were only seven comments—three of them complimented the woman on her smile, and the rest were congratulatory.

He was being congratulated on his engagement.