The Psychopath Next Door

I must admit that, like many, when I thought of psychopaths, I thought of the likes of Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Charles Manson. I never thought about people I know, like, and enjoy hanging out with, as potential psychopaths.

My naïveté was changed by a recent, fairly long term, just under a year, online dating experience. Even now I am more than hesitant to state that this person is a psychopath, a sociopath, or a narcissist (and from the ground I’ve covered, those tags are an overlapping jumble of psycho-jargon). But in trying to process questions that arose for me by journaling and doing online research, I was led, time and again, to such subject matters. And so, while I am reluctant, I am also now more than curious about it. I have to admit, at times, I’ve felt a little obsessed to shorten my learning curve on the subject.

What about him led me to suspect him of being a psychopath? I’ll start with first impressions. There was just something about the way in which he held his head a bit too high, as if having just signed a prestigious document with a flourish; in the way he sold himself to me (“I’m a good man” – just ask my soon to be ex-wife and my mother – sure enough, ‘yes,’ they said at his encouragement – but I just kept thinking, ‘isn’t that for me to decide?’ and ‘why’s he selling me so hard?’); and, perhaps most compelling of all – he did have ‘the stare’ – he would often just bore holes into me upon arriving at my place while I was busy making dinner or getting ready to leave and it wasn’t something I could make light conversation around, either. I found it unsettling in a way that left me ruminating to myself, then journaling, and then researching for answers.

Another thing that rankled me was how he ‘chose me’ and told me matter-of-factly that he’d done so, as if that were that, jettisoning other candidates in the process, some caught unawares, and without conferring with me ahead of time – presumptuous, that I would be nothing but flattered and full of cheer to be the chosen one. In fact, I was startled and disturbed by the way he just sprung that on me – as if I were nothing but a receiver of his edict, but it was too soon for me to call everything to halt, particularly in the face of such positive reinforcement.

I did, however, state that I thought he really ought not to give up this opportunity, so soon out of a long term marriage, to play the field. Oddly, he sort of immediately smirked that he wouldn’t – and, so, why then, the statement? For me, I suppose – he was choosing me, and I needed to know that for his purposes.

I refused to promise exclusivity, although I did admit that I did not have the energy at that point to keep up the online dating search and had no other ready prospects of interest. I did have residual extreme feelings for someone who did not reciprocate or at least not much and I did not see as a long term prospect, besides, as well as someone who was interested in me, that I did not feel drawn to myself.

I was content to just bang around with this unsuspected-as-of-yet-of-serious-psycho-emotional-issues person for a while and see how it might shake out and so that’s what I did. I figured that, so long as I was honest about where I was or wasn’t coming from, I would not be guilty of any sort of false pretense.

He made my choice easy by being agreeable to accompanying me on what are, at large, considered to be chick adventures, causing the other women to inquire of me where I’d met this extraordinary man – as their men were not so inclined to attend spiritual healing events, for one. I must admit, I found myself rationalizing away any doubts I may have felt early on by virtue of this seeming high compatibility in relation to activities.

When my research into psychopathy kicked in, I learned that this is what is known as ‘mirroring’ and it’s something ‘they’ do, especially in the initial stages of the relationship. Another early tactic ‘they’ employ, that he used as well, is known as ‘love bombing’ – basically talking up their feelings for you to you and giving you a send up about the prospect of a committed relationship with ‘them’. He told me he loved me, and I was not inclined to say it in kind and so did not, keeping with my personal pledge of honesty at all times.

Also, moving quickly is one, which he did as well. He wanted me to move in with him and when I shared something unhappy about my current roommate, he leapt at the chance to ‘save me’, even clearing it with his wife so that he could invite me to move into what was their marital residence. I understood the sense that I might need to be ‘saved’, but it was a less than fully informed response. Once again, he seemed all too willing to presume things about and for me where our ‘relationship’ was concerned.

But, he did allow me to set him straight, which I did rather forcefully, telling him I wasn’t going to upset my own applecart so he could see what it might be like to play house with me. He didn’t like that and I didn’t really care. It was the truth, which I’d told myself would suffice to allow me to continue with this rather wonky individual with whom I seemed to share a lot, at least in terms of interest in activities, anyway.

And, active, we were. I was really up for this, too, having just come through a very intensely personally challenging situation involving multiple deaths and resultant estates and further resultant bad feelings within my family of origin. I was happy for the distraction – thrilled, even.

Interpersonally, things continued clunkily – sex was no exception. He seemed to think little of foreplay – especially, emotional foreplay. It also seemed as though I were to be solely concerned for and about ‘getting mine’ as that was all he seemed to be concerned about, only all about himself, of course. I read about it somewhere online – the agentic virus communal approach to sex. Granted, men are likely more agentic and women more communal, generally speaking, but his ‘hop on it, why dontcha’ attitude out of the gate was chilling for me. I actually begged off initially because it seemed such a cold and sudden proposal.

But, my continued efforts in the face of that discomfort seemed to be all he needed to feel that things were ‘fine and dandy’; whereas, I was far from sure and in fact grew to feel more and more reticent about the whole endeavor. We had some bad exchanges that were telling with him showing a misogynistic side I hadn’t seen before. I was also still very much aware of those magic feelings that are possible by virtue of my unrequited love experience and was therefore a tough sell for any stoic sort of approach to sex.

There were other things that didn’t suit me so swell either – he liked to split every bill with an exacto knife and to keep strict tabs on our turns at spending at all times. When confronted, he showed little willingness to concede it suggested anything was wrong – he didn’t understand that the complaint was registered emotionally and not just monetarily. The money was the least of it, from my perspective, but he just kept focused on that – trying to shame me out of having the discussion on an emotional level, it seemed. He also threw in my face that he’d taken me out for a nice dinner on Valentine’s Day some three or four months hence at that point. Whipppee! ‘Don’t say I never did anything for yah,’ eh?

He also became critical of my body while we were on vacation – although his body was far from stellar – short, balding, hairy, and, as he had voiced his objection with mine, a bit over weight. I felt it more like a hit to my self image and esteem – I sensed that in his view I thought a bit too much of myself. Too much for his purposes in controlling and manipulating me, that is – and he was right as rain about that – praise God! No apologies there, mon ami. I took to telling him I thought we were more like ‘friends’ to ease him into my assessment as it was quite different from his, as he presented to me, anyway.

In ending it, sex was my excuse – my level of sexual attraction was – alas! - too low. It really was the best note to strike, even though I felt slightly guilty about it as he’d played the victim a bit on this point where his failed marriage was concerned. But again, it was the truth, the purest truth, the truth I’d felt manipulated to hide that didn’t want to be hid anymore. He gave me the silent treatment for the duration of a four mile hike we were on, tried to argue my situation to me in an unattractive way that might make me feel compelled to stay with him, which I flatly refused to ‘swallow,’ and then, very unceremoniously, took up immediately with another women whom he met online nary a week later.

In doing the last, he confirmed every suspicion I’d had and then some. Much as it was perhaps the most unflattering of all his careless rebuffs, I was grateful. He was gone. I was done. Little did I realize in the immediacy of the end of our ‘relationship’ that my sense of having been violated was just beginning. I’ve spent more weeks than I care to admit just belching up bile toward this ‘man’ and fervently seeking affirmation about his true self, as opposed to the false one he tried to force upon me. But, I am glad; my instincts were good – only next time, I’m going to act on them much, much sooner.