The grand plans I
have had for sex wall reconstruction in 2020 were waylaid by COVIDITY: the
Musical but also because of a rather unsettling encounter that took way too
much brain space for little physical or emotional reward. There were points in
the exchange where I genuinely thought I was losing my grip on reality. Then there
were the parts where I felt aspects of myself I don't let the world see bloom
or blossom. Of course, now I have outsourced my romantic affairs to a matchmaker, mainly because the last year has been exhausting.
I had been
compartmentalized for so long, my intuition, my intellect and my heart were
almost strangers to one another. I knew they knew the other existed, knew they
held genuine affection for one another, longed to be in sync...I just couldn't
remember how to do that, be the conduit for my own power, if you will.
I was introduced to
the building of a sex wall as a concept through series 7 of the Australian show
'Offspring.' I love this idea on so many levels: because I crush hard on Kat
Stewart, but because I was in the midst of winding down my marriage and
transitioning back to singleton life, which, if you know me you know has been
an interesting transition. The idea of the sex wall is that you build a wall of
experience between your past self and your present/future self by creating new
sexual experiences. And given that it had been a terrifically long time since I
had had sex with another person...well...I basically defrosted a bit too
quickly.
I won't bore you
with details about the pseudo-heartbreak comedy that ensued. Basically, I essentially
put 'Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart Tonight,' which is song by
Whiskeytown and Alejandro Escovado that I used to listen to on repeat back in
college days that sums up the melodramatic tinge of this process. Basically, I
unconsciously conjured up the ghost of relationship ending I didn't get when I
was 23. That relationship was tumultuous, long-distanced, intensely sexual, and
when it ended abruptly, I was devastated. I attempted (and fortunately failed)
to self-destruct. I repaired but didn't heal myself. I left some shrapnel in
the wound, it would occasionally flare up, and after 20 years found a way to
excise it.
It is important to
note, that the recent relationship was not one invested in. It was a training
exercise and was supposed to be fun: romantic manoeuvres to get me ready for real
world engagement if you will.
I genuinely
couldn't envision any kind of future I wanted to build with this person outside
of sex. There was also charge to the dialogue, a hint of danger and
recklessness, coinciding with having spent a ridiculous amount of time
conversing with myself, my littles and judgemental cat, to have an adult
interested in my sexuality and mind was heady. So, I didn't recognise the signs
of narcissistic love-bombing.
At one point, a few
days into the exchange, he so craftily introduced his name by a clever line
about a book on ordinance maps we had both enjoyed, because it added possibility
of 'more' into the schematics but it became laughable to me almost immediately.
I mean, we hadn't met or even spoken at this stage. In retrospect, it was a
burlesque number, 'The Dance of the Seven Red Flags.'
It was a game,
because it wasn't ever intended to be a full, blossoming relationship. I was
only ever engineering something with training wheels, something to re-establish
my sexuality. Whilst I honour commitment deeply, I KNEW this exchange was not
about commitment or fidelity. It was about laying the first brick in my sex
wall. It was about reigniting my sexual self and reconfiguring my sexual
landscape. And he - safe behind his own multi-story wall of lies - wasn't
interested in longevity.
In this
non-relationship, the dynamics were similar to what I can now recognise as a
pattern of engagement: long distance-ish, not fully available emotionally or
geographically (little did I know to what degree said person was unavailable).
I had not really dated much online; I met my former husband in person in 2005
and we married later that same year. I knew that I had a tendency to pursue
relationships that I could create distance around and between, but it was a
pattern I hadn't paid much mind to because I was always in *reacting* rather
than *responding*
And
yet...there was something off kilter in the dialogue, a bullying. I began
to sense that I was being manipulated.. Not in a bad way, I just was never
quite sure what was going on and the confusion thrilled. It was
Covid-times and I was bored. And lonely. And craving adventure, a little
romance. A mystery. And damn, when the Universe decides Chrismukah comes early,
they mean it. And such dangerous confusion. Is he married? Is he divorced? Why
is he lying about that he does professionally?
I know enough to
know that I also unsettled the person on the other side of the dialogue. The
conversation was mostly engaging and highly flirtatious. Even though I knew he
was lying, I didn't do what I normally did (call the person out). It became a
weird cat and mouse. But who is the cat?
Instead of baying
for blood under a full moon, I had decided to maintain deliberate naivete, so I
didn't question or push too hard, because ultimately, I knew the backstory I
was being given wasn't true. I was being conned and that I was (mostly) okay
with that because I was using him as well. So much has come to light in the
aftermath, so much unconscious patterning, I don't even know what to sift
through first.
Terrifyingly, this
is basically the circular relationship I have come to realise I have with
my father: I have been so terrified of his disapproval and losing his
conditional love, I shove down any concerns or awkward emotions until they
literally burst out of me, intense, scathing or emotional verbal lava. And then
I explode, overflow.
I learned early to conflate
being of use and service to love. At the same time, I was drip fed other basics
components of good ol' Maslov's Hierarchy of Needs: information, security, approval.
Plus, there was also a high level of control in my parents’ child rearing.
Indifference from one parent, an intense disconnected observation from another.
The pendulum swings fiercely. Send the elder child away for the summer, kick up
a fuss when your lover come back.
Growing up, I
didn't really HAVE any privacy. Journals were read, telephone conversations
were recorded. The other side of the spectrum was a level of seemingly
benevolent neglect so vast, it defied classification. And the conditioning has
had a profound effect not only on how I engage with the world but how I engage,
behave, and orchestrate in relationships (not only romantic ones). It led to a
lot of co-dependent tendencies and patterning I continue to work through.
I have had to
accept that there are certain truths we know, that are revealed, even when we
cannot consciously acknowledge them. We know them on a deep intuitive level.
Ultimately, when we did meet, I allowed an unsafe situation to transpire and
then spent a significant amount of time over the next few weeks spiralling,
terrified I might be pregnant, in addition to the concerns over STIs. When I
finally put the whole puzzle together, months after I'd last heard from him and
realised he had been sentenced to prison for stalking, I was furious and sick
with even greater self-disgust. I had put another person, however unwittingly,
at risk.
The relief that I
was not pregnant was so intense but also devastating that I knew I couldn't
ignore the discordant notes and the pull back and deception any longer and
called it off. I couched it in 'I know you've not been forthcoming.' In my
world, that translates as 'I know you're a lying jackweed,' but I didn't lay
out the lies because it didn't matter. I had engineered a situation where I was
going to get to engage with a favourite activity of my Shadow Self: breaking my
own heart. But I had also become slightly apprehensive. If he could swing that
quickly from pursuit to indifference, that meant there was an unwitnessed
capacity for violence.
In this variation
of his online dating vignette, I was told he divorced 8 years. Turns out not
divorced, very married. Also, turns out he liked to tell other women he was a
widower, the very alive wife being dead. Someone willing to lie about a current
or former spouse being alive, then cyber-stalk and terrorize another person and
their families, isn't that far off being capable of committing violence or
murder.
He didn't terrorize
me to that degree, I have to be clear about that. But there was something not
right about when and how we would know I had started to turn a corner and put
distance between.
I had a narrow
escape and am much more considered now about who I correspond with or how I
spend my time. This guy had told me a story about how he had heckled the
Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain at the Royal Albert Hall, shouting out
'Judas' as someone had done at a Bob Dylan concert when Dylan went electric in
1966. The audience apparently roared and the orchestra laughed as well. But did
they? This story? That someone would be so glibly mean to performers, and not
question their own motivations? That is not someone with whom I want to mark
time and jump church. And I had just spent a long afternoon engaging in sex
with this person. I felt...sullied and baffled. Did he really think this was a
good story?
I only had
verifiable proof of 2 of his lies. The biggest: that he was still VERY married,
that was more of a hunch, until Google took me me straight to the news article
that in July he was sentenced to 18 months in prison for stalking a woman he
had been dating, posting naked photographs of her on the internet. I was
floored; I'd kind of been hoping for an obit but this was nightmare Lifetime
movie territory. Not the naked photos bit; my rule of thumb is I don’t tend to
send content I don’t expect to come back and haunt me. Plus, I work as an artistic
figure model, so there’s no point in being shy about my body. But still, to
violate such trust, and to lie about being a widow…that’s some next level stuff.
When I called
things off in August, the hunch had become too strong to ignore and I knew for
sure I wasn't pregnant. I didn't want to
engage a PI to get answers (it isn’t 1983 and I am not my mother), I didn't
want to drive myself mad wondering or to filter through social media, I just
wanted off the merry-go-round. I ended it in August 2020 but then in September,
he messaged again and I was lonely, confused, and bored. I had gone out on
dates but wasn't really clicking with anyone. We had already had sex, so why
not re-engage? The dialogue got X-rated again pretty quickly but I knew enough
to know I wasn't going to let it go further than that.
Calling it off in left
me the time to wallow in imagined heart break and grieve in a very necessary
way that I had wanted to grieve for the end of my marriage but couldn't at the
time. I just couldn't quite tap into the grief, joy, loss and potential of what
happens when two people just stop turning up for one another, as had happened in
marriage. My unconscious though, well, it knew I needed this
experience was to push me into heart space, just as much as my sexual self
needed an erotic pen pal.
This Narcissist,
who I call Thad McShane, for just over a
year. When we were not in regular contact, weird message requests would creep
into social media, I was constantly having to change email and social media
passwords. And I had to recognise that I was immersed in something much darker
that I had envisioned or acknowledged. I'm not super tech savvy; attempts to
learn about the 'dark web' have just left me confused and doodling spider
webs.
If you feel like
you're being watched/surveilled in a relationship? You probably are. I
hadn't had much experience with online stalking but I had issues in University
with a couple of stalkers, breaking into my flat, leaving small dead rodents
and roses...not fun times and 25 years ago, there didn't seem a lot one could
do except wait it out, lean on friends for support, and hope they got
bored
If you've
already discovered that the person is lying about their profession, the
business they claim to run (long defunct), manipulating their availability,
lying about their relationship status, even when you love watching a good drama
unfold, my one piece of advice is to: Shut. It. Down. Hard. Run. Fast.
Difficult, I know,
especially when your internal buttons are being plied so expertly. It's a
form of coercive control. Being plied with that level of attention is seductive,
can easily be misconstrued for desire. And Narcissisus can pick up the scent of
Echo or a co-dependent and vice versa, creating initial spark but to what
end? So sensual, it can feel as though you are in a choke hold, draped in silk.
The thing about choke holds are not everyone who applies them is careful and a
person can wind up dead.
So maybe you stay
in the conversation longer than you mean to, maybe you’re intrigued, flatter.
Just know that you must build a toolkit of knowledge to protect and inform
yourself. A rope ladder to escape from the tower, a carefully secreted skeleton
key out of the locked room. Trust yourself. If the danger begins to feel and
become MORE real, get the F*CK out and ask for help.
I had no frame of
reference for orchestrations like 'love-bombing,' 'breadcrumbing,'
'paperclipping,' when I returned to online dating. What I did have was a
passion for noir and gothic lit, a few entry-level psychology classes in my
undergraduate days, years of intensive therapy, and having gone through and
helped friends go through abusive relationships to even know shapeshifting that
the modern Narcissist is capable of.
It is not my job
(or yours) job to keep the rest of the world safe. When I found my former
spouse had a new partner, the first literal thought I had was, 'Oh, no. What if
he hits her? She needs to know...' I was almost alight with zealousness to keep
her safe. Not my place. Also, not necessarily their relationship dynamic.
Their story is not the story we had.
Also, not my place
to involve myself in the narratives of Thad McShane’s (a fictional name applied
to a real person) daughters, to take responsibility about what his lies and
manipulations will have done to them, to their self-esteems, their sense of
self. That he used them as bait to show himself as 'the good father, raising
wildflowers' doesn't mean that there wasn't truth there. Also, not my
responsibility to lay what transpired between us at his wife's feet. Maybe she
knew? Maybe it was a kinky source of sexual cat-and-mouse between them. Maybe
she is the penultimate Madonna. I can speculate from a place of safe removal
and not be adversely affected by the significant drama and trauma this man's
behaviour will have caused. I mean, there is a knock-on effect, obviously. I am
not immune. And I believe that sisterhood is always in flower.
What I do know is
that there moments in relationships where I have known my safety would
compromised and the decision I make to engage or not has been driven by pure
survival skill, not out of lust, desire, connection or love.
Playing with
narcissists is dangerous business even if you are NOT laden with co-dependent
tendencies. You will not come out unscathed. You will not be a saviour or
anyone but yourself. There will inevitably be damage. You will hurt. But you
will also survive and come out the other side, I hope, into a more exquisite
present and future for what you've gone through. But is not safe for you to
obsess over someone who can't be honest about who s/he is, foiblesand all.
We shouldn't have
to hid ourselves. We should not have garner approval, to keep a
conversation going, to bid and barter for affection or attention. I'm not
saying attention and attraction doesn't ebb and flow, that there aren't an
array of demands on us at any given moment that shift the focus. I'm just
saying that having faith in your own value, knowing your worth, being able to
lean into the uncertainty and fear of a situation or a feeling? These will
serve us in good stead. And will also lessen the likelihood you'll wind up in a
freezer.
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