All’s Fair in Love and War

“All’s fair in love and war,” he used to say.

At first, it sounded harmless — almost poetic. Something men say to shrug off heartbreak or competition. But over time, I realized it wasn’t a saying. It was a spell. A warning disguised as wit. A covert admission that he didn’t see love as sanctuary, but as a battlefield.

And in war, there are no rules.

Only casualties.

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1. The Myth of the Phrase

“All’s fair in love and war” began as an English proverb meant to excuse the extreme — the irrational things people do under passion or pressure. It implies that love and war are both arenas where normal morality bends.

But when a narcissist adopts this phrase, it mutates into something darker.

It becomes a moral loophole. A justification for deceit, domination, and betrayal. It becomes the anthem of those who weaponize affection — who turn intimacy into a chessboard and human hearts into pieces to be moved, captured, and discarded.

So what happens when love becomes war?

For those who have survived narcissistic abuse, the answer is already written on our bones.

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2. Love Is Not War

Love, in its sacred form, is not conquest.

It is not about outsmarting, overpowering, or outlasting.

True love is mutual surrender — not of identity, but of ego. It’s the meeting of souls willing to grow through tenderness, not through tactics.

Love is meant to be a refuge, not a rivalry.

Healthy love thrives in honesty, consent, and courage. It asks: How can I know you deeper? not How can I control you more?

But to a narcissist, intimacy is intolerable. Vulnerability threatens their illusion of superiority. So they camouflage warfare as romance and call their destruction devotion.

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3. The Narcissist’s Rulebook

To them, “all’s fair” is permission to harm.

Cheating becomes a “strategic move.”

Gaslighting becomes “defence.”

Silent treatment becomes “discipline.”

Triangulation becomes “balance.”

Abandonment becomes “closure.”

Every act of cruelty is recast as necessity. Every betrayal is rationalized as balance restored. Their goal is not connection — it’s domination.

They collapse love and war because they’ve never known peace.

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4. When You Loved an Opponent

I once loved a man who believed control was care. He mistook ownership for intimacy. His affection was conditional; his tenderness, transactional.

When I spoke truth, he called it attack.

When I wept, he called it manipulation.

When I forgave, he saw weakness.

And yet, I stayed — not because I enjoyed the war, but because I didn’t know I was in one. I thought I was building something sacred while he was playing a game of strategy.

I was loving; he was conquering.

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5. The Unfair Fight

That’s why narcissistic abuse feels so bewildering. You enter with your heart open, believing in redemption. They enter with an agenda.

You show your soul; they study it for vulnerabilities.

You confess; they collect.

You apologize; they weaponize it.

You think you’re in love. They know they’re in control.

And when it all collapses, they walk away untouched — leaving you gaslit, hollow, and doubting your own goodness. That’s not love lost. That’s spiritual warfare survived.

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6. Why He Called It “Fair”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he’d smirk after every betrayal.

It was his way of saying: You should have known I’d win.

But love is not a contest. There is no scoreboard in intimacy. No trophy for deception. No victory in destroying the person who trusted you.

The moment you turn love into war, you have already surrendered to darkness.

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7. Rewriting the Phrase

So let us reclaim it:

All is only fair in love when there is truth.

All is only fair in war when everyone knows they’re at war.

You never agreed to combat.

You never signed up to bleed for someone’s ego.

You never consented to be collateral damage.

If someone uses this phrase to justify their harm, believe them — they are confessing that love, to them, is a weapon.

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8. The Initiation

You were not defeated. You were initiated.

Every survivor of narcissistic abuse learns this sacred truth: you cannot lose what was never real. You only shed illusion.

They didn’t break you — they revealed themselves.

And now, you stand wiser, fiercer, freer.

You are not a soldier anymore.

You are a warrior of truth.

A keeper of peace.

You’ve walked through the battlefield and carried your soul back intact — that’s victory.

Love is not war.

It is resurrection.

And you, beloved, have already risen.