Psychopaths,sociopaths and similar

“Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running from them.”

Nikita Gill

As if dating isn’t hard enough already but to add insult to injury we have to contend with, negate and hopefully avoid the psychopathic types predatorily prowling about on the scene.

There is no worse potential suitor, as a single woman to meet than that rouge handsome Hannibal Lector type all eager and ready for your, ‘fresh meat’; a new victim for them to play with and tease. Woe betide us poor, defenceless victims of their wicked spell and game.

Sadly, for us it seems there is a veritable cornucopia of these specimens out there roaming freely, like hungry lone wolves ready to tear into and destroy their next victim.

Unfortunately for me, I seem to be somewhat adept at attracting this breed of man; my heart seems to be a playground for emotional vampires and to further the problem I love to wallow in my masochistic tendencies and actually seek them out (this might be a good indication about why my dating life generally is so unsuccessful).

A pertinent question I must ask myself is, why oh why am I so fascinated with his type of individual and why I’m drawn to them so much? Yes, they may appear charming and say all the right things at the start, but I’ve always been too savvy to not see through that; I know and can spot their dark nature when I get into the relationships and still pursue them like a demented lunatic. (*at the end of this blog I’ll go over just a few of the narcissists/sociopaths I’ve dated over the years).

I’ve narrowed it down to a few things; firstly, maybe it’s because I’m identically opposite to them. My emotions run too close to the surface; as a child I was banned from watching the news because I used to cry at the state of the world. I now spend my weekends inflicting the same emotional pain on myself by sitting under a blanket with a hangover watching sad films on Netflix and wallowing in the misery of the characters on the screen. Maybe me and psychopaths are like two opposite ends of a magnet, attracting each other because of our differences.

Secondly, I’ve always been the type of girl who thinks that with the right amount of love everyone can be ‘fixed’ or ‘healed’ from whatever problems they have, just a note to anyone reading this, there is no helping these types of individuals, their problems and ‘wounds’ aren’t ‘fixable’ because they aren’t actually wounds, they are inadequacies in personality, essence and being. However much you love one of these individuals you can never fix them; it’s a fault in their brain. It’s not Fifty Shades of Grey ladies; he’s not some broken and wounded little boy who will stop being a sadist lunatic if you only give him enough love.

Perhaps another reason I chase the clinically insane is that I enjoy the pain that comes from being in these dysfunctional types of relationships, maybe my choice in men just boils down to the fact I’m complete emotional masochist and like and enjoy turmoil, hurt and pain that comes hand in hand with knowing and dating guys like this.

Maybe, it’s what I’m used to and it’s learned bad habits; I think love should involve drama and excitement and to be honest when I don’t have an element of drama in a relationship I get bored and start to lose interest- I like to be kept on my toes. I enjoy the whole ‘game’ and and ‘dance’. And I’m certainly not alone, there’s a reason why The Joker and Harley Quinn are the new romantic, ‘poster couple’ with young women on Instagram and it’s the same reason Heathcliff and Cathy have been romanticised for centuries.

Perhaps it’s because of the fact they are always going to be emotionally unavailable and this is a way of protecting myself from getting hurt and the heartbreak of real love.

Or maybe when it all boils down to it, I’m simply attracted to massive pricks (not a euphemism, through I’m quite fond of those as well) and there’s no bigger prick than a sociopath or narc.

Anyway, in case any of you aren’t like me and want to actually avoid the narcissists and psychopaths of the world, this next section of this post is my attempt at a guide on how to spot if your current squeeze is a secret Ted Bundy and what to do if he is…

At first the sociopath may not seem too terrible; in fact, it may seem the opposite, almost as if they are perfect, the best person in the world, your dream guy/girl. But don’t be fooled, it’s all a façade, a mask, rouse or spell to trap to try and ensnare you. They will charm you with their words; saying the things you need and want to hear, they’ll come across as the perfect gentleman. They’ll listen carefully to what you have to say; not because they are interested but to store it and use it against you in future. Once, they have you snared that is when the mask starts to slip and their true predatory nature is revealed…

The worst bit of being with one these types is what comes next; they will start to undermine, control and destroy you. Take away your support network from under your feet, make you feel like you’re going mad by telling you that they haven’t said or done the things you know them to have done or said. You may find yourself being made to do things you are not comfortable doing; they will push and test your boundaries and breaking points until they get a reaction. (Often tears or anger from your side) Once said reaction has been achieved, he’ll use this to make you seem as if you’re in the wrong, mad or crazy.

You may find your sense of self slipping away as bit by bit as he separates you from your friends and family. Gradually you’ll see and hear less from them; maybe he doesn’t like your mum or your brother, perhaps your best friend is, ‘too loud/too outspoken’ for him. He may tell you they don’t want the best for you or are leading you astray. The thing is here that you’re easier to control if you’re isolated and without support- you’re weaker. Similarly, to the way the predatory wolf separates the young deer form the herd, you’ll be separated from your support network so he can devour and destroy you.

This type of man will dominate your every thought and fibre of your being. You, however, will not dominate theirs! The only time you will cross their mind is when they are considering how you will benefit their interests or if you have something they want from you (that could be sex, company, money or a host of other things that may benefit him).

As you sit back at your desk in work and think about what to call your children because last night he declared he wanted two boys and a girl. He’ll be sat there on his phone trying to reel in his slutty ex Stacy (and probably of couple of others too) as he’s noticed on Instagram that she seems to be happy and moving forwards with her life. Whilst at the same time is liking millions of pictures of different girls whilst he tries to bait and attract his new ‘target’.

If you find any of these things happening in your relationship, congratulations you may have found yourself a man high on the psychopath scale. It’s time to grab those trainers and run as fast as you can.

Sticking around to change him or even to try to play him at his own game is pointless; it’s a game you will never can win. The only solution to be happy and keep your sanity in check is to move on and say

‘next’…

*So as promised here a brief summary of some of the more interesting narcissists and sociopaths I’ve dated over the last few years. Firstly, I’ve mentioned him before, the Surgeon who was blatantly a megalomaniac with a God complex.

When we went out to restaurants, he’d click his fingers at the wait staff to get their attention, never say, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ and considered imperatives an appropriate starter for every utterance he ever made… ‘Bring me the bill”, “finish your wine”, “be ready in ten minutes and don’t be late”. This combined with him often telling me ‘how skilful his hands were’ … urgh you just sound creepy and pervy and it’s really putting me off wanting to experience ‘your skilful hands’ thanks.

Secondly, the Investment Banker who repeatedly insisted on telling our poor taxi drivers they were heading the wrong way whilst telling them what he did for a job. One of his favourite lines was, “now I’m a banker and you’re a taxi driver so I’m not telling you how to do your job but this isn’t the right way to …”
Then at the end of the journey he’d get a perverse thrill over trying to haggle £3 off the ride because the driver had, ‘headed the wrong way’.

He was also insistent on telling me his salary over and over again, I mean first of all you’ve just haggled over £3, secondly were you not brought up to realise it’s crass to talk about money and thirdly- mate I’m a bloody schoolteacher; tube drivers and bar staff in London earn more than me. Anything over £50,000 sounds impressive to me these days.

But it seems to be a common theme with these narcissistic/sociopath types that they treat people in less prestigious positions to themselves as inferior. We all feel the need to feel important or superior at some point in our lives (everyone’s ego needs a little boost from time to time) but if your date is doing this at the expense of others you can be pretty sure it wont be long before he’s doing it at the expense of you.

Another narcissist was a personal trainer who would send me innumerable pictures of himself stood in front of the mirror at the gym with his top off, insisted I feel his legs and then rather bizarrely asked me to tell him how strong they felt. Needless to say the ‘relationship’ didn’t last much longer than this. There’s nothing like hearing one’s date utter, ‘tell me how big and strong my legs are’ to male a girl go dry.

Although Personal Trainer Guy was a narcissist opposed to a sociopath I could sense it wouldn’t be long before he headed down the same route as a long term partner of mine who would make me, ‘go on a run’ and then proceed to lock me out the house for an hour before I was allowed to go back home and eat my dinner. After all, he couldn’t be seen, ‘dating a heifer’. My intense hatred of cardio ( and fear of upsetting him) meant I’d sit on a bench in the nearby park four times a week and take selfies and play with the squirrels and ducks opposed to actually pounding it out around the pavements of Durham. ( I actually went the park rather than a coffee shop etc as I was worried he’d come out searching for me. At least if I was in the park, opposed to sat munching cake in Costa, I could say I’d got a stitch and needed a rest) And that’s the problem with people displaying these behaviours; sometimes it’s just easier to go along with their bizarre game(s) than challenge them; they never bore of manipulation and conflict and for many of them it actually excites and invigorates them. The rest of us normal folk are just left feeling drained and empty.

Personal Trainer Guy liked to share the immense number of pictures he took of himself with not only his dates but on his Social media too. Social media is often a good indicator if your man (or woman) is a narcissist…look hundreds of pictures of just themselves and not much else gracing their posts. Narcissists tend to be one dimensional and very much focused upon themselves and have may be overly interested in their physical appearance or accomplishments.

These are only a few of the guys I’ve dated that place pretty high of the Narcissist/ Psychopathic spectrum, there’s have been others much worse which I’m holding back in as I don’t want this blog to turn into my journal or a counselling session. But if you ever encounter one of these individuals, take it from someone who knows and get the hell out of there as fast as you can!

Mr Needy

After one too many dips in the pool of unsuccessful dates I felt it was time to climb out, dry myself off and try a different type of guy.

I decided it was time to ditch the handsome, swaggering, arrogant alphas and go for a more sensitive, compassionate, in touch with his feelings type of man.

After all, I’m a massive fan of sensitive souls like Ed Sheeran and I figured that dating a lovely emotional guy such as Ed could only be positive in outcome. Couldn’t it?

So I decided to target and try out a guy I’d met a few times through friends whom I shall call, ‘Mr Needy’.

Mr Needy was physically slighter and a little shorter than my typical choice of date. Whilst he still had a good 10 inches on me I had a few worrying thoughts that, if it ever came down to a physical fight between us, who would actually win and also if we happened to get attacked by crazed lunatics whilst out for dinner would he be able to fend them off. (I know the occurrence of being attacked by crazed lunatics is somewhat unlikely in Chelsea but you have to make plans for events like this and be secure in the knowledge that your man can go full Hulk mode if needed).

I also made a mental note to devise a contingency plan in case things went well and we had any bedroom ‘accidents’ were he put his back out trying to fufil my constant demands of being thrown about everywhere and piledrived through the wall.

Whenever these thoughts crept into my head, I’d push them aside, reminding myself that not everyone I date need be 6’3’’ and double my weight. And in his defence, Mr Needy had many good qualities. Firstly, he was handsome; maybe not in a tall, dark, square jaw kind of a way but he had an attractive, kind face; one you certainly wouldn’t complain about waking up to each morning. He had soft, sensuous lips, a head of thick mousey hair and lovely blue eyes that sparkled with kindness.

He was a doctor and therefore bright, intelligent and articulate. He specialised in oncology, so got major brownie points for being both caring and compassionate, his job was obviously a vocation and not simply a ‘job’ . In conversations with him he actively decided to go into medicine and work for the NHS rather than pursue more financially lucrative careers in finance etc because, ‘he wanted to make a difference’. (Cute hey) When he said things like this I wanted to grab his cheeks, smush them and give him a big cuddle… And that was also when the first seeds of doubt started to creep in. Shouldn’t I be wanted to rip his clothes off? Lock myself away with him for days on end away from the rest of the world. Surely I shouldn’t be wanting to smush his cheeks; that’s what you do with five year olds or puppies.

Mr Needy was probably everything you should pursue and go for in a man. Every thing my mum would pick for me if she ever got the opportunity. (I should mention that I feel horrendous calling this post ‘Mr Needy’ opposed to ‘The Doctor’ but there’s a meglomanic with a God complex for whom I’m saving the title of that blog).

The start of the relationship with Mr Needy went smoothly enough; he sent sweet texts were he declared I was ‘beautiful’ and to which I even said ‘thankyou’ (for once I actually believed someone meant it because he seemed interested in just more than getting into my pants) He even called me on the phone to have real life conversations with me, all within days us swopping numbers. Seed (of doubt) number two came when he wanted to be in touch allllll the time.

7am ‘ Good morning beautiful’

1pm ‘How’s your day going princess’

6pm ‘Hope you got home safely and work wasn’t too stressful. I’ll call you on my break.

I mean, dude. Give a girl a break. We didn’t need to be in touch every minute of every day.

However, despite this assault of overly vigorous texting it was a week later and there was still no offer of a date… hmmm. Odd.

This meant one of two things, either Mr Needy wasn’t interested in me or he was too worried about asking me to dinner. I made some Sherlock style deductions and concluded it wasn’t the latter as he had said I was ‘beautiful’ and was quite deliberately trying to keep in touch with me. I’ve been doing this dating thing a while and no straight man no matter how needy or sensitive they may be acts like that towards a woman without the end goal being to remove her knickers.

So I took matters into my own hands and asked him if he’d like to go for dinner (and prayed that me asking him wouldn’t mean I would have to pay).

‘Why certainly. Indeed. Wow. How exciting’, he tried to articulate in a very Hugh Grant- esque foppish way.

‘Righto dinner it is then Needy’ (BTW I didn’t call him ‘Needy’ to his face- I’m not that much of a bitch) and then decided to put the ball back in his court and tried to make him man up a little by telling him, ‘I’ll leave it to you to make reservations and tell me what were doing and when. OK?’

‘Um, errr, um’ he squirmed.

‘Ok, bye Needy… I’ll look forward to it.’ And with that I hung up; his hesitancy and unsurety made me uncomfortable.

For the few days leading up to our date, Needy and I exchanged text messages and had inane phone calls about his day, his journey to and from work, his lunch and one particularly strange and lengthy conversation about his laundry and how he is concerned that he doesn’t have enough time in his day to do it to his liking. (I mean do people really have a certain way they like to do their laundry? I’m lucky if I have anything clean at all most days. The number of times I’ve had to buy clean pants on the way to work is getting out of hand).

But during these mundane conversations about his dirty socks I began to consider, Is this what I want? Normality. Complacency and more importantly am I actually capable of normality for more than 10 minutes at a time?

Eventually came the night of our first official date: although I’d met Mr Needy once or twice through friends and we spoken on the phone we’d never been out together, alone. Tonight was the test.

Mr Needy promptly met me at my door, kissed me on the cheek told me I looked, ‘wonderfully elegant and beautiful’ before escorting me for nearby drinks along The King’s Road: perfect!

Needy’s dating etiquette was pretty much perfection in every way: he opened doors, moved me carefully out the way of people with a hand in the small of my back, ordered the wine after checking my tastes, refilled my glass before I needed to ask. Damn- the boy even stood up when I visited the bathroom. Swoon. Thud.

I’m pretty sure the reason he hadn’t had time to do his laundry that week was because he been on a Debrett’s dating course because he was unfaultable, charming and utterly adorable.

We moved on from drinks and got an Uber to a nearby restaurant in Knightsbridge; here the unfaultable behaviour continued… was this what non-dysfunctional dating looked like and if so why did I have a feeling in my gut that something was wrong or off?

Am I simply addicted to drama and the wrong men? Or is it that I’ve just come to expect that after a decade and a half of dating wronguns.

The date seemed to be going perfectly then somewhere between our dessert and digestif his phone rang. “Excuse me, do you mind if I take this?” he asked, his face colouring scarlet. As he was a doctor I made an allowance for this, believing it was a work emergency and the sick and poorly were in need of Mr Needy more than I was.

“Yeah, I’m good and I’m just out for dinner with her now” continued the phone conversation, “shall I put her on?”

This is odd I thought, why on earth would the hospital want to speak with me?

It was upon hearing a mature woman’s voice declaring, “Aliciaaaa darrrrrling, simply wonderful to speak with you. We’ve heard all about you.” Then shouting to someone in the background, ‘Jessica, it’s ‘Needy’s’ new girlfriend, Alicia on the phone. Come say hello.”

It was at that moment when I realised Needy and I would not be, ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ for much longer and after our evening was over I would have to make my excuses as not to see him again. It made also me realise that reverting from my usual ‘type’ wasn’t necessarily the solution to my dating problems and that whilst Needy would indeedy make someone a wonderful, sweet and perfect partner. Long term, I’d end up eating him alive, bullying him and generally making his life a living hell and I didn’t want that for either of us.

So with that I shot back my ameretto, said my goodbyes to Mummy Needy and Jessica, yawned loudly and complained of being ‘very tired’. Whilst I’m aware I probably broke Needy’s cute little heart and left him crying into his stethoscope, it alas was not to be. I need someone to put me in my place and tell me when I’m being an idiot. Needy did not seem like he was up to that particular task.

So once again it was time for me to call…

‘Next’
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