Profiles in Narcissism - Vol. 01

Jim took the bait, but it took some detective work on my part to discover exactly which club we were going to. I called L.W. and the night was set.

I had to hand it to L.W., Ellen, if that was her real name, was stunning. I probably would have left with her, just like Marc, and I didn't even play for that team. She had my husband eating out of her palm before the second dance ended. Watching the two of them did cause some actual jealousy. I quickly snapped myself back to reality just in time to put on my Academy Award performance.

Jim came back to me, apologizing and trying to wipe away my tears. A couple of them were even legit. I gave him a tempered cold shoulder the rest of the evening and went to bed when we got home. Other than the jealousy, I'd surprisingly become turned on by the power Ellen exuded over my man. I'd have to wait to scratch that itch, but if this worked out as I expected, Jim would be raring to go the next night. And, I could only hope, all the other nights of our lives together.

I did make love to Jim the next night. Yes, I was the aggressor, which was out of character for me, and he knew it. But to me, it was necessary to prove I had no hard feelings about Ellen. I wouldn't say exactly that my plan backfired, but Jim was certainly confused. Perhaps I overdid it or sent some kind of mixed message.

Our family trudged along through the summer. It was particularly hot and muggy, as I recall. In the bedroom, things were still frosty. Frosty was the wrong word. Jim still fucked me, but that was different from making love to me. He'd once been so attentive. I couldn't understand what was wrong with him, still. Jane again, was the one who diagnosed my husband.

"I'm not sure what you expected," she admonished. "I can't say I've ever seen someone more broken or lost as Jim was that night."

"But I've done everything I can think of to make it up to him," I wailed into the phone, without meaning to. "And he did almost leave with that tramp on my birthday."

"That doesn't mean anything, Linda," she was more consoling now. "My sister's friend, Hallie, cheated on her husband with her boss. Somehow, she was able to convince him to stay and try to work it out. They had small children like you two do. They did counseling - the whole nine yards - but when I see her while visiting my sister, she claims that everything has changed. Mind you, it's eight years down the road. She's torn, trying to stay together and keep making things up to him, but she confesses that she often thinks about splitting. She says there was just too much damage. What you need, Linda is patience. Lots and lots of patience."

It wasn't fair. The thought of it taking Jim that long to get past his hurt, was horrifying. Meanwhile, I was fresh out of ideas. I decided to call L.W. for advice, and I did, shortly after speaking to Jane.

"It didn't work," I told him after our greeting. "Jim is still gloomy, and our sex life isn't much better. I can tell he makes the effort, but it's hollow at best. I need your help. You still talk to him regularly, don't you?"

"I do," he responded with a heavy sigh. "And you're wrong, Linda. It worked perfectly. Jim has admitted as much. Listen, my goal as I've stated from the beginning, was trying to keep the two of you together. That's been accomplished, hasn't it? Jim's internal feelings on the matter are something entirely different. Maybe he'll forgive and forget someday, and maybe he won't. I'm no magician."

"But that's what I want," I cried out desperately. "It's what I need. You've got to help me - help us, please? Can't you work on him? Try to explain how much better our lives will be if he can simply forget the entire thing. He took the bait, just like I did. Can't you use that to make him see?"

"Linda, let me ask you something, and answer honestly," he said. "How would you have felt if Jim had left with Ellen that night? Would you have stayed married?"

I knew the answer immediately but couldn't bring myself to say it. "That's what I thought," he told me sternly. "I told Ellen to use her judgment and discretion if Jim followed her like an orphaned puppy out that door. She must have pitied you, or she wasn't that much into Jim. The way Jim tells it because he'd forgotten you even existed as he followed her to the door, until she pointed him in your direction. I left it open on purpose. Jim is a family friend."

"Yeah, right," I spat into the phone. "Some much so, you blackmailed his wife to fuck you, in return for your help."

"Linda, let me be clear," he said stoically. "What I did, I did for Jim and the kids, and maybe a little for you. At our Labor Day barbeque, which you will attend, by the way, I'll be admitting that I set the two of you up with Ellen. He's still at home with his family. Maybe him knowing that not only do I know but instigated the entire thing, will help him. It could also hurt him worse."

"You going to admit about what we did?" I was still fuming. "What you did, how you coerced me?"

"I didn't fuck you, Linda," he was so calm. I suddenly felt over-matched. "If you'd been even the least diligent, you might have noticed my phone propped up against the fake bowl of fruit on the counter. That's called evidence, my dear. That recording shows a married woman, eager to masturbate an old man. The best advice I can give you is to act surprised at the barbeque, and let it go at that."

I decided to take the old guy's advice. He kind of had me over a barrel. During the rest of that summer, I played the remorseful wife, doing plenty of things I didn't want to do to get back in Jim's good graces. Some of it seemed to work, but things were still drastically different in our marriage. Jim stopped spending some much time at the Willing Mind and started giving the kids his full, undivided attention. He'd always been a great father, but now it was like he was trying to win Father-of-the-Year.

Jim seemed to take it well, at the party where L.W. made his big reveal. I don't know if Jim still went to see him after that, but he never mentioned the old codger's name again. By Christmas of that same year, Jim and I were having sex only about twice per month. The sex itself was mechanical, if I had to try and describe it. He made sure I was 'taken care of' but, there wasn't any of the caring romance that we'd once had.

Every time I attempted to bring it up, Jim kept saying the same thing. "It's gonna take time, Linda." Then he would shut down the conversation. I had no traction because I'd already used all the ammo in my bag. I'd made all the excuses, promises, loving innuendo, and justifications in my haste to get our lives back to normal. There was nothing left for me to say that wouldn't be redundant.

Life settled into that new normal for us. Additionally, Since Jim was no longer friends with our little group, he made plans for his own time elsewhere. He'd always spent at least a few hours at the gym each week, but now he would come home and talk about this person or that. Sometimes it would be a guy, and sometimes a woman. He joined a Saturday morning cycling club and even a Sunday afternoon horseshoe league. Those were replaced with a poker night when the cold winter settled in.

If I needed more sex, I'd have to initiate it. Jim was always accommodating, but the effort and outcome were almost always dissatisfying. I got off, but there was no attempt to reengage or even cuddle afterward. I bought myself a small but powerful vibrator as a Christmas present.

The following year, Jim enrolled the kids in youth sports programs that stretched our finances a bit. He told me he wasn't going to allow them to sit in the house all of the time, watching Disney movies. Jim coached Tommy in coach-pitch baseball, which was some sort of precursor to Little League. He also coached Emma's soccer team. I cheered on my family from the sidelines.

Jim also had a talk with me about going to work full-time, either where I already was employed or elsewhere. He said the kids were only going to get more expensive as they grew. That was his response to me floating the idea that we have another child. Nothing was working out as I had planned.

For the next six years, our family operated like a well-oiled corporation. I believe we were the envy of the other parents in our sphere of influence. The kids were happy and well-adjusted. It was the opposite in our bedroom.

I'm not ashamed to say that I had two dalliances, one with a single father from Emma's soccer team, and another with a salesman who sold office supplies to my company. In both cases, I made sure to be discreet, and that the men knew it was a one-off - no affair - and no further romancing. If Jim was doing the same, I never knew. He was always where he was supposed to be, at least to my knowledge.

It shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. Two days after Emma's sixteenth birthday party, Jim sat down with me and told me he was divorcing me. I cried, sobbed even, but I didn't lose it. The truth was, I'd been expecting it a lot sooner. Jim was firm but fair, and what hurt the most was his lack of emotion.

"This can stay amicable," he told me stoically. "We don't even need lawyers. I printed all these forms from a legal site online. All we have to do is agree."

I made the mistake of asking what if I didn't want a divorce and fought it?

"Then," he said, "I become a real asshole. I've had six years to consider all the options. I've also planned accordingly. Both kids have a college fund started that I've been paying into. I split the house payments into bi-monthly to reduce the interest. It will be paid off next year. We're going to have equal shared custody, and if you fight me on anything, I've got your confession letter and a long list of people who will receive it. Don't make me use it, because I promise I will."

He'd thought of everything, and he was being more than fair. Still, I felt compelled to try one more time.

"So, you couldn't find it in your heart to forgive me, is that it?" I asked bitterly.

"Maybe," he replied, then changed direction. "No, that's not accurate.

With a long sigh, he continued. "That night - you went with asshole - as I walked back to our hotel, I lost something crucial in my heart for you. The way you presented yourself when you came home the next day, made me lose even more. Suffocated in my hurt and rage, I didn't know it at the time. That came later. I can't say I lost love because if I didn't love you, I couldn't have been so humiliated and in such pain. Your sense of entitlement in what you did, was as real as my pain and humiliation.

"In my opinion, "he went on, "it was respect and trust that had been chipped away. It took some time to come to that realization. The way you talked out loud and, in your letter, - on the one hand saying I was the most important thing to you - and all the while, rubbing asshole's perfection in my face constantly, finally made me understand that you didn't respect me. Either you never did, or you'd lost it along the way. I'd never be able to trust a woman with my heart, who had that sense of entitlement, so the choices became clear.

"I wasn't going to let you steal our kids' chances for a happy life. So, I decided to forgive you - to a point - and focus on Tom and Em (Their teen names, now). I decided that six years in a so-so marriage was a small price to pay for their happiness. Now, it's time for both of us to get on with the next chapter of our lives."

And just like that, Jim and I were no more. I ended up telling my parents the truth, fearful that Jim might become vindictive at some point. Their disappointment lingered for a long time. True to his word, though, Jim never told our children any specifics, and never bad-mouthed me to them.

I stopped talking to Dee, finally, because she always talked about Jim negatively. She saw him as overly playing the victim, and far too old-fashioned in his approach to life. She and Dave were divorced by then, so I didn't see her as a subject matter expert.

What was my next step - my next great adventure? I tried to contact Marc. He'd left the door open, after all. I knew he'd retired and had opened a dance studio in Sausalito. When I PM'ed him, he didn't respond initially, but I was persistent. Finally, he replied:

"Do we know each other?"

So I explained to refresh his memory.

"Oh, yes. You were one of the ladies from the Morrison, right? I'm happily married now, so please don't contact me anymore."

One of his ladies. That's what he'd said, and I knew he meant it. That was when my depression started. I'd thrown away a chance at a long, wonderful life for one night of mind-blowing sex. Had I taken him up on his offer to leave Jim and be with him, it would never have worked.

I dated a lot in the beginning. I think it was partly because of how Jim had explained himself. It was time to move on to the next chapter. I wasn't in competition with my former husband, but I was eager to find the new man I could find that long-term companionship with. It wasn't easy and it never happened.

I saw Jim, ironically with his new wife Ellen - not the same Ellen - at Thomas' wedding. He'd gone into medicine and didn't finish school until he was twenty-eight. When he finally got married, he was thirty. I attended without a date. After the mother-father dance, I asked if we could chat a bit after the happy couple left the reception. As always, Jim was gracious in allowing me the time.

I apologized for all I'd done to him and us. I knew it was a long time coming to finally give a proper 'sorry.' Jim listened kindly, without interruption, bless his good nature.

As I watched him with his wife on the dance floor, the words of wisdom came back to me. I was fifty-two, and two dress sizes larger than when we divorced. In the mirror, my bare ass looked like an unstirred tub of yogurt. The lines on my face took far more time to conceal now. I could still attract attention in a skirt or dress, but thankfully, those men didn't get to see the extra veins in my legs unless we wound up naked.

At fifty-four, he was al the same man, with a sexy touch of grey that made him even more handsome. I didn't think that should be possible. He looked like the same old, plain old Jim, but wiser, and more debonaire.

That's when I started seeing a therapist. She helped me, over time, to understand my narcissistic tendencies. Jim had been everything I'd ever wanted or needed - and then some - even in separation. My 'wrong thinking' originated in my worldview about celebrities, and that they superseded normal societal rules. My therapist once asked if I'd been approached to dance by a fifty-something man, plainly dressed, ordinary in every way except my attraction to him while dancing, would I have left with him as I did Marc?

The answer was 'no.' The reason was simple - the other women - including my girlfriends, would not have been jealous. Beyond jealousy, the real envy would occur when Cinderella left the ball with her prince.

For a long time, I was angry and bewildered with Jim. Why couldn't he just let me have this one thing? Had become my mantra. My counselor helped me to understand the simplistic answer. Jim had his own mantra, based on his upbringing and our wedding vows. Had we discussed it beforehand, there may have been a compromise, or maybe not. He'd been right that very first day - I didn't love him the way he'd thought - and I had to become an old woman to realize it.

Like everything else in abundance, sex with random men became boring. I still saw my children and grandchildren regularly, but I knew they spent far more time with Jim and Ellen. He'd made sure of that in the years after Marc. I spent my later years, wiser yes, and volunteering my time with local charities. My roommate, a woman named Beth, kept me from being lonely. It was a strictly platonic relationship that I treasured.

Had I known what a truly narcissistic person I was, would it have changed that night? I've tried to answer that question, but it's difficult when you are who you are. Sometimes I still dream of my night with the famous and best lover of my life, which tells me, while smarter, I've still got a long way to go. Oh well!