In honor of February 14th, I have written a post about the narcissist’s heart. Enjoy.
After the narcissist left me in Israel to return to his native Toronto, we spoke on the phone every day. He was homeless and couch-surfing because his intended targets had not agreed to fund his latest adventure. The stress was unimaginable and he was suffering. One day, narcissist told me that the doctor was worried about his heart and was going to run some tests. A few days later, he said the tests confirmed that his heart was failing and the doctor told him outright that he had two years left to live at the most. Oh my god! Two years left to live!
He was very detailed about the kinds of scans and labwork that the hospital had done, what his results were versus what they should have been, and how it all spelled certain death at a very early age.
Then he started going through the stages of grief as he anticipated and prepared for his own death. We were in constant contact by email and phone as he tried to put his affairs in order and accept the diagnosis that he would be dead within two years. He cried tears because he wouldn’t be able to watch his son grow into a man. He rebelled and rallied at the injustice of it all. He planned to send me hard copies of his best writings so I could save them for his boy. After all, the son and the writings were his legacy, the only proof that he had ever lived.
The problem was that in the mind of a narcissist, everything is all about him.
He could not imagine how it was making me feel to learn that my beloved, my soulmate, the man I thought I was supposed to marry, he only had two years left to live – at the most. The narcissist, the schemer, the planner, he was incapable of putting himself in my shoes. He was not thinking at all about me or how devastated I would be to lose “my soulmate” before we even got married! His death sentence was like a lightning bolt that started a fire.
I did what any impulsive, intensely passionate, double Scorpio would do. I made plans to go to him before he died.
Within 48 hours, I quit my job and found an apartment in Canada. Then, I gave away everything I owned. A few weeks later, I got on a plane to Canada.
Of course I was going to be with him. If I didn’t go now, when would I see him again? At the cemetery? Two years is not a long time. I have tennis shoes that are older than that. A death sentence of two years required immediate action on my part.
Initially, the narcissist was shocked, scared even. He could not understand why I had run to him. You see, his goal had been money. He had already started setting me up to send money by Western Union, money to help pay for his expensive heart medicines. Ever the one to work an angle, he used this new opportunity of me being in Toronto to assess my potential as a provider. He quickly switched from being shocked to being grateful. He was so happy that I had come to be with him in his hour of need. I was his “true, loyal friend”. In front of his best guy friend (target), he threw his arms around me and proclaimed his love for me. It was the only time he ever publicly said he loved me and it was such a relief. So long had I waited for him to embrace me openly. Finally we would be together.
Sounds like a happy ending except…
Fucking narcissists. Nothing is beneath them. He was perfectly willing to convince me that he was dying, and he did it for money. Now who’s a whore, David?
“Narcissist Will Fake His Own Death.” is copyright © 2015 by Poorkitteh. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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