I know exactly why I was crazy about my husband. I adored the way he treated people, especially strangers. How he took the time to ask a waiter their name and humorously banter with them.
Ironic isn’t it?!
How I mistook the signature charm of a narcissist for kindness and respect.
But it wasn’t the only time I misinterpreted my narcissist.
Narcissists camouflage well with other human beings.
We know this. We understand they’re dangerously inconspicuous. Without hesitation, I can acknowledge I knew nothing of the lurking beast. However, I did witness warnings.
I knew something was off.
There were anomalies signaling to me.
Little peculiarities nudging me towards doubt. I didn’t discard them. I didn’t enable them. I didn’t rationalize them. I didn’t even deny them.
I misinterpreted them.
Detachment from family. My husband made little to no contact with his family. It was sporadic at best and what I would call a ‘holiday household.’ Something I refer to as a family of obligation. You get together when you have to. But it was extreme. He never even thought to call or visit home. Eventually, I made the effort and encouraged the trips.
I misinterpreted this as a family who wasn’t close because some aren’t.
Not letting me break up with him. A few years after college, I wanted to break up. I was apprehensive of marriage coming from divorced parents. I wanted some space since I was afraid of a ‘forever’ commitment. My husband, then-boyfriend refused to let me do it. He told me I could date people during the week. But on the weekends we would still see each other.
I mistook this as the maturity to allow me to exercise my fear of commitment.
Not wanting me to work with others. While we were engaged, my husband didn’t like me working. He would make comments about guys paying attention to me. Until this point, he had shown zero signs of jealousy. Not even when he graduated college a year ahead of me. I did find this curious.