Hi, all--
I have been chewing over something for awhile now I wanted to put out there.
When people post about their relationships with N's that have gone bad, the objective part of me says (in my head, and to them) but.... they were awful! Why do you like them a bit? Why do you miss them?
But the truth is I have been involved with very narcissistic souls, sometimes for years. And it took me forever to get over them. I feel (??) that I am past that trap now but I can't be sure. The reason I can't be sure is because I don't think I have worked through completely what is going on.
Underneath the: my family was narcissistic so I didn't grow up knowing what real love looked like stuff, which is true and important, there is something else, I think. It's not conscious, but I think it's there. And I see it in many of the posts here, lurking.
I think that, unconsciously, we are a little bit jealous of narcissists. Just to put more specifics on it-- I was involved with a man who could have been the subject of the song "You're So Vain." This man always was in the most wonderfully beautiful spots, in the best hotels, experiencing the best whatever. He demanded the absolute best and always got it. His house was the prettiest, he drove the best car, etc. Now, was he always unsatisfied and looking for the next thing? Absolutely. Did he make me feel as if I could never relax because if someone better came along he's trade me in. Yep. Could I recite to you why I am superior to him as a person. NO question. But.... he always has relationships-- women throw themselves at him. He never doubts he is due the best of the best, and he gets it, not just financially, but experientially. We can all say we are happy with what we have, but the truth is swimming with the dolphins in tropical wherever is great-- and he does stuff like that all the time. And he is cold as ice-- when he left me he never looked back for 1 minute. I went into a tailspin for a very long time. It was harder being me, at least at a particular level.
In a secret way, I am jealous of him. I think this comes from childhood, from looking at our abusers and wanting to be them instead of us. Why wouldn't we? Being the one in charge looks pretty good when you are the one being abused. I think that this lurks subconsciously in our minds and what we end up with is this infatuation with N types. They have this thing we secretly wanted in childhood.
I have been involved with very N men, classic N types, but for every one I have been involved with I have been infatuated with 5 others. And these men were always the best at something, the stars of the show, really tall and commanding and handsome. REALLY mean, too. Not a bit nice. They walked through life having people run out of the woodwork to give them things and they expect it. It is like I am following behind them, wanting their crumbs.
I know the well-adjusted responses to this, and for years now when an N man has propositioned me have turned him down (well, most of the time-- when I haven't I have known enough to make it a one-night thing). I'm not nuts-- I know that there is no -good- reason to be jealous of narcissists, in a spiritual adult enlightened sense. But it is unconscious. It may even be evolutionary. The alpha male (and female) get more stuff. Everyone wants to be them because they get more stuff-- more sex, more food, more attention, more safety. They are assholes most of the time but we still want what they have. There is a reason Mick Jagger is so fascinating to so many people even though he is the ultimate N.
Anyway. Food for thought. I think that this jealousy may answer a question we ask ourselves a lot here-- why do I miss him/her? Why do I want to be with him/her? And recognizing it may keep us from getting involved with these people the next time around.
And I also think the answer to it is to develop genuine confidence and strength that mimics what we are jealous of but that isn't tainted with N. And maybe to try to get some of what they have that we can approve of and feel good about without becoming like them.