For the sake of anonymity I am going to call the narc ‘CG’. Yes I’m still scared of him. Yes I’m scared he finds out I’m calling him a narcissist. Not that he would know what that means. He ain’t the sharpest tool in the box bless him but more about that later. I know it would still enrage him to call him anything with more than two syllables as he would see that as, and I quote, “using big words to make me look thick”. No, I didn’t make you look thick Sweetie, you managed that all on your own.

So, the history.

We knew each other through my first husband. They were friends. CG was present at my first wedding and perversely my 1st husband was present at my 2nd wedding. Weird shit hey but that’s the kinda gal I am. Jeremy Kyle could make a whole series about my life.

My first marriage ended (amicably) ten years later.

Somewhere between the end of my first marriage and meeting CG again I had another relationship which gave me a son who I will call ‘L’. Not too much to say about that relationship other than he was my first narc but I don’t find him interesting enough to talk about really. He’s just an irritating knob end really. I thought hard about using a more polite description of him but nothing hits the nail on the head quite like the term ‘knob end’.

That relationship broke down 3 1/2 years later when my son was 12 weeks old.

Fast forward 6 years.

A Facebook friend request from CG. A blast from the past. Of course I accepted the request, why wouldn’t I? Well maybe because from that day forward I became his property….