Today I got an email which inspired me to write this blogpost. An email asking me whether I could reconcile my differences with Henry’s father. An email written by his girlfriend. Let me share you the story of a man with a narcissistic personality disorder. He’ll be further named as “R”.
I met R in mid 2009, if memory serves me correctly. On a datingsite called “relatieplanet”. I had been separated from Boo’s dad since 2007 and I thought the time ripe for a new man in my life (I thought I was ready, but in reality I was not). He described himself as a divorced architect. Divorced for a few years, my age, looking for a new love in his life. We decided to go on a date and as it turned out, we clicked. What I didn’t understand then, was the fact he was already lying through his teeth about the basics. Indeed, he was divorced, but not for the reasons he stated to me (his cheating wife). He wasn’t my age, but a year younger (he was afraid to tell me, he said, because he thought my reaction would be bad). I found out via a convo with his mum about his actual age. He wasn’t an architect, but an interior designer. He didn’t have a job, but unemployed, which he forgot to mention either. Although everyday he “went to his work”. Know this, I found all these things out a year later, when the damage was done. The dates went well, and very soon he was staying over and we even thought, hey “let’s move in together”. In that period I was very insecure about myself. Very low self esteem. Single mum of a beautiful little lady. I still had the remnants of a post natal depression hanging around. It was nice to have someone around. Nice for someone to give me the attention I needed. So, I went along with the plan. We started looking for flats, found one and signed the contract. That was November 2009.
One weekend not long after though, I became suspicious of a few things. He would call me, words slurring….”I’ll be with you soon”. We had agreed to meet up and he never showed. I went home, phoned him again….he didn’t pick up. I was in a panic. Accident? I called the police. They found him, about two hours later, near the road. In his car. Drunk as a drunk can be. Couldn’t even stand up anymore. When he arrived home, later that night, he had a whole story ready about landing a new job and he had 1 tipple with his new boss. (Short version). A few weeks later, I went to London for Christmas. He promised me he’d join me a few days later. He had made reservations at a hotel even, he said. When the day came for him to arrive, I called the hotel to see whether he was there yet. “There is no reservation in this gentleman’s name, Madam”. Then he phoned me to say he got ill, taken to hospital. For alleged appendicitis. All false, I later heard. The reason he couldn’t come was the fact he had mounted up such debts, he was short of cash. He created debts because of his drugshabit. The rent hadn’t been paid for months, utility bills, arrears, the lot…
After London we spent a few days together. He was acting weird. Because I confronted him with all the lies. Why was he lying? Should I go and ask his family? That was the day he moved out. He didn’t want to answer difficult questions.
In that time we had been trying for a baby. I know now, ofcourse, way too early. But I had my rose tinted glasses on. A week after R moved out, I realised I was pregnant. He promised me to do something about the signed rental agreement. He never did. 2500€ in debt for me! Still paying it off 20€/month. It is my monthly reminder never to be this stupid ever again.
Fast forward 6 months.
When I was 6 months pregnant I got a telephone call from R’s sister: P. She was nearly in tears. She was about to become an auntie and her brother had been to biggest dickhead in the world. Her family, on her orders got R into a psych ward because of alcohol and drugsabuse. All the lies, deceit, debts, EVERYTHING burst right open. It was a stinking cesspool, let me assure you of that. That family are saints, still are, trying to live with such a relative.
Fast forward another 6 months.
R found a new girlfriend. N. N was a single mum of 1 child. Just coming out of a painful divorce. They moved in together within 6 months of knowing eachother and were married not long after. Apparently the wedding was immensely lavish. She knew about his struggles and his addictions. But she said: “everyone deserves a second chance”. In the meantime I kept in touch with R’s sister P. Mainly because she became a mum, so Henry had a little niece. N divorced R last year. They were married about 18 months to 2 years I reckon. They divorced on the grounds of his substance abuse. Her little girl found alcohol and drugs in their attic. Back to rehab it was.
Last year in december I met up with R. He “was sober and clean and willing to work on his life. He was going to study and work hard and stay single for awhile to work on himself”. That lasted 3 months. In March he met another N. They have now been together for 9 months. It is this N who emailed me to implore me to give R a second chance. “Because he is clean and sober and he is so good with my children and he works hard and yes we have moved in rather rapidly but he deserves another chance and Henry needs to know who his dad is”. This N is a recently divorced single mum of two children. Hard divorce, low self esteem, in need of a saviour….can you spot the reoccuring thing here?
Henry knows who his dad is “my dad is ill and he doesnt want to spend time with me because he only thinks of himself”
So, the whole unabridged story. I was wrong trusting someone so early. And I am still paying for it dearly. Financially and mentally. Don’t make the same mistake as I did. I said to R’s latest gf to run as fast as she could from him. She won’t listen. He mentally fucks her up while she is smiling at him. Another victim. Another heart broken.
My story, so you won’t make the same mistake