I fell for him and i must admit that. My analyst told me that he was a solipsist who drew me into his orbit. But surely there was something that drew me to him or at the very least made him seek me out as a potential conduit for the self perpetuation of his delusions. I've always had a weakness for any patina of sophistication and he seemed suave and debonair. It wasn't merely the accoutrements of his self regard that charmed me. He was devilishly handsome. I suppose an unconscious sexual churning was working away in my substratum of intentionality while i succumbed gratefully to his graceful ministrations and solicitousness.
I suppose if he is a narcissist then i am a masochist though this retrospective realization is discomfiting enough. Besides i am excoriating to the point of self flagellation. In everything, with utmost severity, i am prone to over analyze, examine minutely all the possible angles and dimensions. It is not an agreeable propensity nor does it do me any good. But it imposes a distance from the depredations of the many men i've been involved with. By no means do i grant them absolution. I'm too shattered and broken to bestow that kind of forgiveness. But i like to keep things in perspective.
Memory plays odd tricks. Sometimes i subject my memory to my will or my incipient desire for self ascendancy. Even where i am self reviling there is a subterranean self importance. So that my memory, imbued with the emotional overtones in the unconscious , is directed into channels where my sense of self is revealed to me in the embodiment i enclose it in. But the embodiment or integument is metamorphosable and fluid. It changes and with it the nature of the memory and its overlaid associations change too. But experience has made irrevocable indentations so that while the form changes the hurt is unaltered.
I alluded to my masochism. At a very simple level it is low self esteem. His preponderance over me was proportionate to my increasing self dispossession. He became a bulwark, even if self destructive,in a fragmented world with no anodyne compensations for my existential disenchantment. I dare say if i had a modicum of self awareness i would be opting out instead of immuring and abjuring myself in a closed circle of self exoneration and self hatred. Or maybe i needed to navigate this circuitous terrain to find a way to break through.
To lay out the lineaments of our tortuous intersection would be fruitless because it is an all too familiar patten. But it did seem that with my growing misgivings about him i was rationalizing his perversities to avoid confronting the truth. And such assiduous circumvention, which never took into account the ramifications of his self absorption, was bound to be precarious and consecutively falter. To be honest when he fell in love with himself all over again, through the mediation of another woman, i felt emboldened to walk away. The external world is scary and ripe with possibilities. But i'd rather be partaking of it than be down there with him.