The Narcissist

Boyfriend and Girlfriend are sitting on the couch; they are nearing the end of their disagreement. Girlfriend is convinced that they are close to reaching an amicable solution. Boyfriend is convinced he is incapable of being the man she needs him to be. He tries, but never for the right reasons.

Boyfriend: I just don’t … I mean … it is difficult for me to process your point of view because of my own limited perspective.

Girlfriend: Okay. So how about we try one of those empathy exercises? Do you feel emotionally equipped to handle that right now? It’s okay if you don’t; I just feel so much better when we try to solve all of our disagreements sooner rather than later.

Boyfriend: I understand that. I’m working on not ignoring the problem. I realize that when I purposely avoid discussing the problem, I am not taking into consideration your feelings, or showing that I care about the promise I made you when we first started dating — that we would never go to bed angry.

Boyfriend and Girlfriend have not slept for days. As Boyfriend says the word “bed,” he glances at the clock that Girlfriend always sets on the coffee table between them. Girlfriend notices the glance. She remains quiet but wraps her arms around herself and lowers her head. Boyfriend’s posture becomes rigid in response. Girlfriend composes herself quickly, wiping away a tear, and smiles at Boyfriend.

Girlfriend: I’m sorry. You are doing so well. I’m so proud of you. I know how hard this is, and I know it’s going to take time, but I love you and I want to support you through this.

Boyfriend: It makes me feel…guilty…when you, I mean, when I perceive that you are worried about supporting me while I try to make up for the mistakes that I made. I created the issues in our relationship. It is my fault, and that is…difficult…for me to process because if I had just put more effort into showing you the love I feel, I would have never hurt you so deeply.

Girlfriend starts to tear up again, and she pulls the still stiff body of Boyfriend into a hug. She whispers something in his ear. Boyfriend visibly relaxes and smiles at her. He grabs her hands. Girlfriend flinches and leans back.

Girlfriend: Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you again. It just makes me so happy to hear you say the things I’ve been waiting so long to hear. Thank you.

Boyfriend is gripping the couch as hard as he can, but his hand is hidden from the view of Girlfriend by his knee.

Boyfriend: No. Thank you. If you hadn’t tried so hard with me, for so long, I would have never believed that a truly unconditional love exists. Until you were brave enough to bring it up, I never understood how warped my version of love was because that’s…how I knew, or convinced myself I knew, that my parents loved me. It’s difficult to realize your parents were never capable — because of their own individual upbringings — of showing you the kind of love you actually needed, instead of the kind that was convenient for them.

Girlfriend notices that while he was talking, Boyfriend looked at the clock three times. Boyfriend has a suspicion that Girlfriend noticed he was looking at the clock. Girlfriend is starting to fidget, and her lips are pressed tightly together. Boyfriend is upset that they had now missed the party.

Girlfriend thinks Boyfriend noticed that she was about to cry, and that he didn’t care. Boyfriend did not notice until he turned to look at her after feeling her staring down the side of his head. Boyfriend meets her eyes and realizes he has hurt Girlfriend again. He is scared because he doesn’t care. He is scared because he secretly hates her. He quickly rationalizes the hatred by reminding himself that he only feels like that because he hasn’t completely accepted the fact that he had, with a careless, preventable accident, made Girlfriend decide she wanted to hurt herself. Girlfriend takes a deep breath, and Boyfriend shudders involuntarily. He looks at the clock.

Girlfriend: I feel sad when—

Boyfriend’s whole body is shaking as he pulls back his fist. Boyfriend has no previous experience with feeling an emotion this strongly. He did not know this level of pain existed, let alone that he was capable of feeling it. That night, for the first time in his life, Boyfriend raises his voice at Girlfriend. He rubs his raised fist violently against the corner of his eye and holds up his phone.

Boyfriend: Can I please go call?!

Boyfriend is so ashamed that he actually yelled at Girlfriend, that he doesn't wait for her to reply. He puts his head down, opens the sliding door, and walks out onto the deck. He shuts the door behind him as quietly as possible.

Boyfriend dials the only number he has ever bothered to memorize. He takes the phone away from his ear to double check the time, and when he hears his grandmother’s cheery greeting he can't help but smile.

Boyfriend: Happy Birthday, Grandma! ….Yes. Yes I know, and I am so sorry. I promised you after we talked that night that you would never spend another birthday alone, and I let you down. …Oh, okay. No! No! Don’t feel guilty, Grandma, I don’t remember shit anymore either…I never know what to say back to that… Because I can’t lie to you.

Boyfriend’s voice broke over the word “you.” He clears his throat.

Boyfriend: No…Grandma, please.

Boyfriend takes a deep breath.

Boyfriend: I don’t think I am…but you make me want to be. I’m trying as hard as I know how.

Girlfriend waits inside calmly; she flips a tape recorder casually in the air. She sits at the dining room table, and stares out of the sliding glass doors at Boyfriend’s back, barely blinking. She can't help but think about how lucky Boyfriend is that he found her…the only woman capable of fixing him. Girlfriend’s phone buzzes. It is the first time her father has texted her in months. It is one line, but it fills her with more joy than Boyfriend would ever be capable of giving her: “send 100$ towards dead pet’s tombstone.”

Girlfriend: Finally. I hated that fucking dog.

The curtain drops. The crowd’s cheers are his cue — he appears on stage, and with nothing but a look and three underpaid assistants, he silences them.

The Narcissist™: In conclusion, I am the only “narcissist” that has appeared on this stage tonight.

The Narcissist looks down solemonly for a moment before bursting into henious, inhuman giggles. It is obvious that every member of the audience is about to shit themselves in anticipation of the life-altering advice this brave insider was finally about to give.

The Narcissist™: This proves that the best way to convincingly diagnose any person with a serious mental illness, based on ten minutes of dialogue, described by an unreliable narrator, between two nameless strangers… is as simple as putting your diagnosis in the title of whatever sheet of paper you hand your reader next. The reader will do the rest! Thank you, and remember…I’m the only narcissist in your life that actually has your back.

No refunds for any reason.