A coworker caught looking at apartment ads years ago, despite being in the midst of the Gay Narcissistic Relationship.
“What are you looking at those for?” he asked me.
“Oh, no reason in particular,” I said. “Just curious.”
That was pretty much true.
But there was also something deep inside me that yearned to throw my hands up in the air, end the Gay Narcissistic Relationship, and move on with my life. That “something” was buried deep down, though. I treated it as an immature fantasy and nothing more.
After all, I found the love of my life. There were plenty of problems, no denying that. But what relationship doesn’t have its ups and downs? What relationship doesn’t need work? What relationship isn’t worth all of the struggles?
Because, in the end, isn’t it better to have someone to come home to?
No, not always.
It Was All Just A Fantasy
Nothing wild happened in those swinging-single fantasies I had.
I daydreamed about waking up in my apartment, alone. I daydreamed about what it would be like to sit down in my quiet apartment in the morning to read, alone. I daydreamed about what it would be like to make my coffee after awhile and lazily sip it, alone. I daydreamed about the simple meals I’d make for myself, alone.
There was no one around to bitch and complain that I never wanted to anything, that I was boring and passionless, that I cooked the same stuff over and over again… blah, blah, blah.
But it was all just a fantasy.
I’d quickly snap out of it. My fear of loneliness and abandonment quickly kicked in when my mind wandered too far. I reminded myself that I didn’t want (or know how) to live my life without the Gay Narcissist.
It got to the point where I didn’t just want to be with him. I needed him to be with me, else there was nothing left for me in life. Otherwise, I was empty and worthless. There was no hope outside of the Gay Narcissistic Relationship—even when the codependence I instilled into the Gay Narcissist was hopeless itself.
But I told myself lies to keep going.
It wasn’t so bad. Things would change. It was my fault and I could fix it. The Gay Narcissist needed some space and he’d get better… whatever better was.
But “better” never showed up.
An Earthshaking Reality
Those fantasies of mine eventually turned into an earthshaking reality.
This is when the Final Narcissistic Discard happened. This is when the Gay Narcissist replaced me with the New Supply.
And I was broken and devastated by the whole thing. I cursed those fantasies, blaming them from distracting me away from the Gay Narcissist. If I didn’t have them so often, then maybe I could have saved the Gay Narcissistic Relationship.
This shows the divide between your intellect and your emotions when a narcissistic relationship bites the dust.
You know it is for the best and that it was a long time coming.
But you feel like your life is over, you failed, and you will never find peace after such an emotionally traumatic event.
I felt incredibly embarrassed by how raw and volatile I was at the time. I knew how it looked from the outside. I was going through a breakup. It didn’t work out with my boyfriend, and he left me for someone else. Boo-hoo.
I could see this from outside. I even talked about it at length with the Lovely Therapist, telling her how ashamed I was for making such a big deal out of something I should be taking far more stoically. Maybe I even wanted it in some way, deep down.
I initially got the typical psychotherapy response. I’m allowed to feel what I’m feeling. But what I liked about the Lovely Therapist was that she also spoke blunt truths to me, too. And she reminded me constantly that the Gay Narcissist openly manipulated me to completely benefit himself, never caring at all when or how it hurt me.
And most important—this manipulation took place from the very beginning of the Gay Narcissistic Relationship. Years of twisted thoughts and distorted perception all came crashing down in a single moment.
How exactly was I supposed to react?
Reveling In Alone Time
Regardless, the Gay Narcissist was moving on with the New Supply.
And I was left with the worst company of all.
Myself.
This feeling was completely out of character for me. I’ve always enjoyed my own company, and rarely had issues with feeling lonely when alone. Honestly, I oftentimes preferred it over too much social stimulation.
When I moved to the City in my 20s and fully came out of the closet, it was a different experience. I ran a bit wild. But even then, I’d ground myself by withdrawing for entire weekends; I interacted with no one and wrapped myself in a blanket of solitude.
During the span of the Gay Narcissistic Relationship, there were several times the Gay Narcissist would fly solo and go off and do whatever it is he was doing. Sometimes it was under the guise of visiting friends and family. Who knows, the majority of it was probably exactly that. But other times, he’d return in especially good moods. Here and there he’d make accusations that I was enjoying the open relationship in his absence and that’s why I wanted him gone.
What bullshit that was. I cherished his absence so I could be alone. I’d clean the house. I’d play video games. I’d watch television. I’d work out. I’d read.
I’d be alone and I’d revel in it.
“Manic Train-Wreck State”
Settling into your own company after any kind of dysfunctional, toxic, and/or narcissistic relationship takes time.
But the rewards are sweet.
Jackson MacKenzie discussed this in his incredible book, Psychopath Free: Recovering From Emotionally Abusive Relationships With Narcissistic, Sociopaths, And Other Toxic People.
This book is a favorite of mine, and I highly recommend it. Please buy it using this affiliate link to support me and my work.
MacKenzie describes how he needed to relearn how to live his life after his own narcissistic relationship ended (it was a gay relationship, like mine). He writes that he was in a “manic train-wreck state” as he desperately dated, trying to fill the chaotic void left by his own unsavory ex.
As MacKenzie wrote:
Eventually, I found that I actually preferred the quiet time by myself. The thought of going out was exhausting. The thought of spending time with negative people was exhausting.
I stopped giving in to other people—even well-intentioned ones—and just didn’t do things that I didn’t want to do. Something in my brain really was rewiring.
I started going outside a lot and thinking about stuff and myself.
Dr. Ramani Durvasula also touches upon this in her books on surviving narcissistic relationships.
In her most recent one, It’s Not You: Identifying And Healing From Narcissistic People, Dr. Ramani talked about learning to not only live your own life after moving on from a narcissist, but finding stuff that matters to you that you can do for yourself—the narcissist or anyone else be damned.
Dr. Ramani describes it as her “biscuits in bed” list in It’s Not You:
Maybe the narcissistic person in your life would throw a tantrum when you would cook with garlic, or they refused to watch films with subtitles, or they made fun of you for wanting to make crafts during the holidays, or they berated you for having soda in the refrigerator.
Now, do those things—cook up a storm with all the garlic you want, have a personal French film festival, get a glue gun and have a ball, or buy cases of soda. (My little pleasure is eating biscuits in bed while reading and playing games on my phone, thus the name of the exercise.)
Seeing it all written down is a reminder of how many little things you gave up for the relationship—and likely faced their contempt and rage for. Once you start living as yourself, it can put the toxic patterns in starker focus and make radical acceptance more sustainable.
This is all the kind of stuff that will help settle your life down and move forward after a narcissistic relationship.
“I’m Just Fine”
Here’s one final anecdote before I wrap things up.
It’s about how simple, quiet activities can give you a great deal of pleasure—especially in the midst of a dramatic and exhausting narcissistic relationship.
During the final year of the Gay Narcissistic Relationship, I spent Thanksgiving with my parents, separate from the Gay Narcissist. I needed to get away and be left alone for awhile—so much so I left for the holiday early.
All I did was settle into my parent’s house with an iPad I newly bought at the time, solely for the purpose of replaying Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions; the television played reruns softly in the background.
And that’s all I did. It was quiet, simple, and incredible.
“You must be bored up there,” the Gay Narcissist eventually texted me.
“Nope,” I texted back. “I’m just fine.”
