From Glow-Up to Gut Punch: The One Where I Read the Signs - Finally

We’ve all been there. Ignoring that little whisper in your gut that says, “Hey, something's off.” This is the story of the time I did exactly that—and the wild, eight-year detour it took me on. So grab your drink of choice and settle in. It’s reunion time, and I’ve got a story.

When the Dream Becomes a Detour

It started out like a rom-com. When I met his friends and family, they couldn’t stop saying how he talked about me constantly. “We’ve heard so much about you!” they beamed. I felt like the main character. We were both working, on different tracks but seemingly in sync. I was four years post-divorce, rebuilding. He was a caregiver, trying to stay steady.

But there was one friend of his—let’s call him Dude. His energy was... weird. Reserved. Like he wanted to say something but swallowed it back. I clocked it but let it slide. That detail? Bookmark it.

Separate Lives, Shared Weekends

We kept our lives separate but connected—seeing each other on weekends. It worked. Until it didn’t. We both lost family members around the same time. Grief brought us closer. But looking back? That was probably the quiet start of the end.

The Move-In Mistake

Fast forward eight years (yes, eight), and his housing situation went left. Dude moved away, and guy moved in with me. That’s when the Netflix dramedy kicked off.

He lost his long-time job, cycled through others, and eventually started borrowing my car since I worked from home. At first, he contributed—car note, insurance, gas. It helped. But slowly, things shifted.

He got another decent-paying job, but something changed. He was irritable, moody, resistant to learning basic tech. I tried to help him with the basics—Word, Excel, data entry. He seemed to get it. But at work? Total blank. Then came the moment: “I quit. My boss doesn’t like me.”

Yikes.

Patterns and Names

He found another job, but the mood swings stayed. After every shift, he'd come home cranky, eat, clean, sulk. Wash, rinse, repeat. Then came the new name. A coworker. Popping up in every conversation—even on his days off.

Sound familiar?

When we met, I was the name he couldn’t stop saying. Now, it was her. That’s when I realized I was being triangulated. It’s a manipulation tactic—bringing in a third person to mess with your confidence.

He was floundering. I was flourishing. And he hated it. The name-dropping? A desperate attempt to knock me down a peg. Subtle, but calculated.

The Receipts

Let’s review the Before & After:

Before:

Constant praise and proud introductions

Surprise getaways and dressed-up date nights

Thoughtful gifts

Mutual, passionate intimacy

Celebrated me for being strong, smart, beautiful

After:

No mention of me to anyone

Sketchy motels and greasy bar food

Gifts that were actually meant for Dude (yep)

One-sided intimacy (which is honestly just sad)

Suddenly, being "low maintenance" was my best feature. Translation: he thought I was easy to take for granted

Whose Story Was It, Really?

Here’s what I learned: I never blamed the coworker. Or Dude. Or even myself, not anymore. It was never really about us. It was always about him. Classic covert narcissist with a sprinkle of sociopathy.

I don’t know where he is now—and I don’t need to. What I do know is this: the one person who stuck with me through it all is still here. Me.

I earned my gut-check stripes. And now? I listen the first time.

Your Turn:

Have you ever ignored the signs? Let your gut get overridden by someone else’s script? I’d love to hear your story. Drop it in the comments or share this post with a friend who needs the reminder: always trust the gut.

Always and forever.

#GlowUp #TrustYourGut #RelationshipRedFlags #CovertNarcissist #BlogStoryTime