5 lessons I learned from dating a Narcissist.

You may think you are in love until it is too late.

Sooooooooo I dated a narcissist.

I never knew the true definition of a narcissist until a few years later. I wish I knew this earlier, it would have saved me a lot of tears. Narcissists appear normal, just like you and I. A charming personality, oozing with perfection, and then the road becomes dark and painful.

It started with love bombing. He said all sorts of sweet things to pull me in. I fell head over heels in love with him. He acted like a true gentleman, owned and dined me. He bought me roses. It was the typical thing you would expect from someone when you are in a relationship. I felt like I had found the one. He wanted to get married, have kids, build a life. He said the right words tugged on the strings of my heart the way he felt would pull me in. Looking back, I realized I meant nothing. I was discarded like used toilet paper. I was not even sure he was the same person.

He was insecure. It was the first thing I noticed about him. He always needed validation from me. Initially, I thought seeking validation was just to be on the same page with me when it came to making decisions. It was because he didn’t feel like he could make good decisions. He hid behind the shadow of my wisdom. He also became clingy. He always wanted to control who I spent time with and talked to. He would threaten to stop talking to me if I did not adhere to his requests. I found it doubly odd. He was the kind that could end long-term friendships because of his needs. He was selfish.

The discard stage hurt. We had no quarrels or anything. He stopped talking to me. In the attempt to find out why, he said there was nothing wrong, and he wanted to move on.

It was funny that after the first few days of breaking up, he checked on me to see how I was doing. I genuinely thought he felt remorse, but it was not that. He wanted to absolve himself of guilt by acting like he cared, and also making sure I was not angry. We remained friends, but I learned valid lessons along the way.

  1. He was an extremely fragile person. He exuded so much confidence, but behind the confidence was a fragile man whose ego was easily bruised, and it only took one slight to shatter him. He also had a knack for keeping grudges.
  2. He also showed an exaggerated self importance. He was extremely arrogant. He claimed to have high standards, but they only existed in words and not actions. I also realized he had no standards when it came to choosing women. He preyed on the emotions of single women looking to settle down. He also had a lot of sexual escapades and loved dating women who were less likely to look for commitment.
  3. I noticed he had no long-term friends. He had no one he was accountable to for his behavior. This is a red flag, because he never admitted to fault and would always find a way to blame me.
  4. He was always right. He was never wrong about anything. Challenging him on anything was never a good idea.
  5. Gas lighting was something I experienced, and I knew I was done. I was made to feel that anything in the relationship that went wrong was always my fault. I was walking on eggshells literally. We could go from having a cheerful and happy conversation to a full blown argument. I found myself apologizing for things I didn’t do or say just to keep the peace. In this way, I am slowly losing myself.

When you find yourself in a toxic relationship like this, it is not easy to walk away, but please do. It is for your sanity. Physical abuse is bad. Emotional abuse is deadly.

Walk away because you are worth more, you have family and friends that love you. There are beautiful people who want to come into your life and bring out the best in you. Do not deprive yourself of that opportunity by being with a narcissist.

In the long run, it takes a while to dissociate from this bond. Get the support of your friends and family, and definitely a therapist.


My body trembled whenever Osas approached me.
I want to say it trembled in a good way or tremble is not the right word to use in this case. It was like a craving that will never go away. Osas was an addiction for a long time. Sometimes I felt like I needed therapy to get over him. I felt pity for any woman who came across him because he was like a drug. An overdose of Osas still won’t kill, that was how toxic he was, it was the craving for more of him that was dangerous.
I stood still.
“I know you don’t bite,” I responded slightly embarrassed because he caught me taking a step or two back. The couple standing beside me walked into the elevator. A few more people walked into the elevator and the doors closed. Osas and I were left standing in front of the elevator doors.
“You look great,” He said as he admired me from head to toe. I knew it. I killed my look today. The saying “dress like you are going to run into your enemy”, it works.
“Thanks,” I responded with a sense of urgency. I was meeting up someone and ended up running into someone else. He didn’t respond I tried my best to avoid his eyes. I could feel his eyes on my chest. It was like he was going back and forth between my face and my chest.
I stared at the elevator doors praying that the elevator will come back down and open up so I could walk away from Osas. A young woman with two children stepped in front of the elevator. She made eye contact with me and smiled, I smiled back uncomfortably. She held the hands of both children firmly. The boy of maybe about four years was held with her right hand, and a little girl of about two years was firmly held with her left hand.

A part of me prayed that she would get the cue that I was uncomfortable and try to engage me in a conversation, but I was with someone that was not possible. I prayed my phone would ring so I could excuse myself.
“Listen don’t be like that please,” He said as he looked pleadingly into my eyes.

This was the part of the conversation I didn’t want to have.

Not in my beautiful red dress standing in my white pumps, not here not now.
The doors to the elevator opened with the ding sound. The lady and her two small children headed towards the elevator.
“Excuse me,” I said to him “I have somewhere to be” I told him as I walked towards the elevator.

He grabbed my arm, I felt the familiar tingle, the type that I felt when he would hold my hand romantically, but this time it wasn’t romantic. It was just the fact that he touched me. I responded to every touch even though it wasn’t erotic.

Was something actually really wrong with me?

Did I need total cleansing from anything that had to do with him at all?

I thought I had healed from him having any form of effect on me, but I guess it wasn’t so.
“Please stop,” I said to him. “I have a meeting.”
“Can we have a drink this weekend?” He suggested.
He must have some nerve. I thought.
How did he think it’s okay for him to ask me to go out to have a drink with him? before today I hadn’t seen him almost eighteen months.
“No” I responded as I walked towards the elevator. The doors were pulling in close. He still held my hand firmly, I could not understand why. The lady in the elevator put her hands through the doors to prevent them from closing. She had impatient look on her face. I actually thought it was kind of nice for her to wait for me. This little meeting with Osas was going to take a little longer than I expected so I motioned for her to let the doors close and she can go up without me.
“Osas, What do you want from me? “ I asked the question. It didn’t sound so sincere even from me asking it, The question was meant for me. What did I want from him? Why was I still entertaining him? I could have just walked away and acted like we never knew each other or met, but instead I stood and engaged in the conversation with him and now I was asking him what he wanted from me. how hypocritical.
“I just want to spend time with you, we haven’t communicated in a while so I guess it’s just a good way to catch up that’s all.” he said so casually.

He had a whole lot of nerve.

“What makes you think I want to spend time with you?” I asked.

I was getting irritated by the fact that he felt he could waltz back into my life and everything would be cool.

“You always enjoy my company,’ he responded confidently with a smirk.

I gave him the side eye.

He laughed.

I caught myself smiling.

“Listen I know I have not been a good sport and things panned out badly between us, but maybe we can sit and talk.”

Was he trying to convince me?

“No” I said and took my hand off his grip. A tall, man was standing three feet from me waiting for the elevator. The elevator door opened and I rushed into it without looking back. I held my purse and closed my eyes. I heard foot movements of people coming into the elevator. I shut my eyes closed real tight, I didn’t want to see Osas. I heard the doors close and slowly opened my eyes after realizing I had not pressed the button to the floor I was going to.

Osas was standing right beside me.

Confessions of a Cheating Wife (3)

How do you look into the eyes of someone you have betrayed?

I walked slowly towards Yemi. I had the bed sheet draped around my body. He didn’t turn to acknowledge my presence but I was sure he knew I was behind him.

“Why our bed?” he said facing the window.

I could not say anything.

I had to ask myself that question. Why did I decide to defile our marital bed?

I wanted to speak, but the words could not come out of my mouth clearly. Yemi was patient and kind. How could I blow that up?

Osas was the only reason I would blow my marriage up with Yemi.

Osas was nothing like Yemi. He was just good for sex. Today, I got caught and from then on things would never go back to being the same.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, there is clearly no excuse for what happened in there.” I responded. I had to own up to this, it wasn’t fair for him to suffer emotionally for my infidelity. He had given me basically everything including the assurance for the growth of a healthy relationship.

He didn’t turn to look at me. He stared out of the window. It hurt to know that someone who could so easily look me in the eye avoided mine.

What was he thinking?

  • *************************************************

Running into Osas after a few years of no contact was a curse. Osas was my guilty pleasure but nothing good was going to come out of our encounters. The last time we saw each other, it ended on a bad note. I decided to accept my loss and move on.

He had cheated again for the umpteenth time and did not want to take responsibility or even apologize. It was my cue to leave. Any woman with common sense would leave such a situation the first time such a thing happened. I guess my common sense was lacking.

I was at Glass House, a tall building with over a hundred floors. I was meeting up a colleague for dinner. I walked up towards the elevator doors. There were three people standing ahead of me, a young lady who had her attention on her cell phone scree. The other two were a couple, the woman was pregnant, the man stood beside her and held her close, rubbing her back gently.

I craved for this type of love from a man for a long time until i met Yemi. Yemi was the best thing that had ever happened to me in such a long time. We waited for the elevator to come down, we knew it would take a while as there were other floors and other people on those floors would want to get. There were three other elevator doors. A few minute later, one of the doors opened up, a woman in yellow shorts, a tank top with a Jane Fonda look walked out of the elevator, the next person to come out was a familiar face.


I stopped dead in my tracks. If there was ever a day to look so good, it was today. I had on a red dress, white pumps from Nine West. My make up was well done. I just felt the need to look good, and I pulled it off effortlessly. I pulled my long hair up into a high bun, the hair Osas loved pulling during sex. He looked good. His beard was well groomed, his barber had given him a good hair cut. He had on brown pants and a white long sleeved shirt. His eyes were on me.

“Hey.” he said.

I nodded in response. He walked towards me, I could smell his cologne. The familiar scent that memories..

“Hi” I responded taking a step back. I didn’t want him hugging me. He noticed what I had done.

“I am not going to bite you, why are you taking a step back?” he asked as he walked closer. I was losing my defenses. My body began to tremble, it seemed all so familiar.

Confessions of a Cheating Wife (2)

Before I decided to throw my marriage into the boondocks, everything was going well.

I lacked nothing.

I did not have to work, it was an option, not a necessity.

I had pocket money.

I went on lavish vacations or rather baecations.

The luxury goods in my closet have valued the price of a full boutique.

I was happy, got regular sex, great foot rubs, and massages.

I could be described as one of the few women who found a husband on a platter of gold.

I guessed I was positioned in the right place and time to receive him. There was only one pending question in my head.

I took the question into my marriage.

Did I deserve him?

Yemi had the opportunity to marry someone else but instead, he chose me. Rita, was a Kalabari girl whom his parents had approved of for him to marry. I remember seeing her once at a wedding. She was fair-skinned with long, thick, natural type 4 C hair. She was a medical doctor who was practicing in a private hospital. Yemi was not interested in marrying Rita, much to his parent’s dismay. Rita moved on quickly. I thought there would be drama, or she would come fighting me for Yemi, but she never did.

Yemi and I got married three years later, it was a struggle, we had broken up and made up so many times. There was only one reason why I was doing that.


Yes, I had a serious weakness for Osas. We were childhood sweethearts, and I lost my virginity to him. We did not quite work out no matter how hard I tried to force things to work. We were always in turmoil, and it took so much in me not to kill him. I caught him sleeping with my room mate from school and I cut him loose.

I never got over what happened and every opportunity I could find to contact him, I applied. Osas could not be bothered with me. He had a great supply of women at his disposal. All he had to do was tell them he was an American citizen, which was true. He was born in the US. Those women flocked to him. Every time I saw him, it was one female or another. I never saw him with the same female twice.

It hurt.

A few months later I met Yemi.

Yemi told me, he was going to be my husband from the very first day he saw me, and he did not fail to keep the promise despite all odds. Rita was my greatest odd.


The look on Yemi’s face as he stood in the doorway broke my heart. I could explain anything else, but I could not explain having another man in our matrimonial bed. I pulled away from Osas as I grabbed the bedsheet and wrapped it around my body. Yemi walked away, I heard the footsteps as he walked briskly down the stairs. How could I have been so careless? He never came home at this time. It seemed Murphy’s Law was operating in my life today and it would probably get worse.

I looked at Osas and pointed at the clothes we careless the on the floor and motioned to him to put his clothes on and leave my house.

Osas looked shocked.

I slid off the bed with the bedsheet draped around my body and ran barefoot down the stairs. Yemi stood in the living room facing the window. Shame engulfed me. How could I even look him in the face


In life, there are certain people you need to say hello to and walk past, nothing else.

I grew up in the projects. My brothers and I shared one room in or tiny apartment. It was what my parents could afford. They worked hard to make sure we had food on the table. All my siblings and I had to do were go to school and do homework. I was the middle child and the only girl. My older brother Joe was a year older than me. My younger brother Michael was two years younger than I was. We were very close because we were all we had. Mom never let us go outside to play with the other kids. There were a lot of kids our age we could pay with and attended the same school as us. The rule in the house was firm. We could not go out to play with those kids.

Part of the reason why mom never let us go out to play was that she was a stripper at a club downtown. She was ashamed of what she did. She was raped at sixteen years old and got pregnant. She lost the baby at four months and was never the same again. The grief haunted her for a long time. She barely graduated high school, but she decided to fund the easier way out. She was very attractive, she was five feet and six inches tall. She had a pretty face, full breasts, a small waist, and nice legs. I was the spitting image of my mom, so I knew I would look exactly like her when I got older.

Dad worked for a man who owned a mechanic shop called Alfred. Dad was four years older than mom, they met after high school and started dating. He worked at a fast-food restaurant while mom braided hair all day and followed men at night. They broke up a few times because mom would not stop sleeping with different men. Dad didn’t want to lose mom, at twenty-three years old. He had nothing more than eight hundred dollars to his name, a jalopy that could take him to work and back, and a one-bedroom apartment. He bought a ring and proposed to my mom. She agreed to marry him, and they started their life together.

Mom had a best friend whom she worked with.


They were thick as thieves, always together. They talked about buying new clothes and make-up. They talked about small shows. They also talked about Larry, their boss, a short Italian man who owned the club. I had seen him once when he came to the house to check on why mom had not come to work in a week. He reeked of alcohol and had a Cuban cigar in his mouth. Mom had a high fever and could not work for a few days. Tatanisha updated mom on what went on at work. She was unmarried and had no kids. It was the life she chose for herself She came from a broken home and ended up in the adoption system. Her parents didn’t want her, the system didn’t want her. It was the men who wanted her, that was what she lived for. The only day she didn’t have the same work shift as mom was on Monday. She always came in the evening to check on us and make sure we were tucked in bed after dinner. She would hang out with dad in the living room watching television. She was always gone in the morning.

One night, she came over to the house like she usually did. She always showed up at six-thirty and made sure we had dinner. She checked our homework and had a glass of beer with dad. Dad sent us to bed at eight-thirty instead of nine. Reluctantly we went to our beds. I don’t know how long I had been asleep, I woke up to yelling and noise coming from my parent’s room.

My brothers were fast asleep. I got out from the bed I shared with my brothers and walked towards the door. I wanted to hear what was going on clearly. I heard mom’s voice. Mom was home? She was meant to be at work. Monday was crucial for her, her best clients showed up on Monday. What could have happened?

The Placeholder.

“He is not going to marry you; you are just a temp.”

“He is not going to marry you; you are just a temp.”

The words of the woman pierced into my heart like a knife. She was right. I was wasting my time.
All these months, I was dating someone who turned me into a placeholder. I was the committed one, he was using me to pass time until “The One” showed up.
I am a five-foot nine-inch chic, Pretty face with a Master’s Degree in Computer science, but I can not keep a man. They walk in and out of my life like a bus stop. I thought in my pretty head that I was doing it right. I wore nice clothes, smelled good, my hair appointments were monthly, nail appointments were bi-weekly. I took trips four times a year. I attracted handsome men with everything going for them but commitment.
So, the question is, what am I doing wrong?
I met Philip in Cabo. He was the perfect boyfriend for me. When we got back to Los Angeles, we went on dates back-to-back. I was living my dream relationship. He had the hots for me and I felt the same way. Sex was ahhhhhmmazing. He was damn good in bed. It made me pray that I was not sharing him with any other woman.
Red roses at work.
Roses on my doorstep.
Foot rubs in the evening or weekends spent together.
Fancy dinners.
Front row seats at sporting events.
Surprise weekend getaways.
Expensive designer accessories.
Should I say more? Would you want what I had? Yes, and yes.
This was my perfect relationship which included constant phone calls and video calls. Then the smoke started. He started spending time with his friends. He used work as an excuse, not to go-to date nights.
I complained to my co-worker Sasha who had become a confidant.
“Maybe you should let him have space,” she advised.
“Yes, maybe he is dealing with stuff and he is either internalizing it or doing something different it may have nothing to do with you,” Sasha said.
I could not understand what she meant by him dealing with stuff. He could always talk to me.
My phone calls were automatically sent to voicemail.
Getting a response to my text was like playing the lotto.
Then the fire started.
He didn’t return my calls for a whole day, so I decided to check on him.
I drove forty-three miles to his home in Laguna Beach. I opened the door to his condo with my key and saw a woman on the couch watching tv.
“Hey,” I greeted in half shock and half uncertainty. For all I knew, she could be a relative.
She sat up in surprise.
“Hey, how may I help you?” she asked as she put the remote control in her hand on the center table.
“Where is Phillip?”
“He is not here,” she replied flatly.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Bianca, I am his girlfriend. And you are?”
It felt like my heart had leaped into my mouth. What did she just call herself?
His girlfriend?
Then what was I?

“You were a placeholder,” Sasha replied as she listened to my sob story.

I had never been so humiliated in my life. I took the walk of shame out of Phillip’s home.
“He loved me, we were going to get married,” I said quietly. I was convinced in my heart that he was the one.
“He was not in love with you,” Sasha said with a straight face. “Listen, sweetheart, this is not new and I know it hurts so bad, but men lie. They lie about you being the one because they are cowards and can’t let you go. They want to keep you in place until they can find ‘the one.”
I didn’t want to believe this whole heartbreak thing was happening again. What was it about me that was not making them commit?
“I did everything to make him love me and make me stay.”
“Well maybe that’s where you missed the point, you were too busy trying to make him stay and you didn’t stop to check if he was worthy of you. You are worthy of love. You will not get love from the wrong one.” she said with a smile.
“You are right.”
“We lie about our requirements sometimes, and when we find the requirement we reject it, it happens even with women too”
“So how do I keep a man, I am tired of these constant breakups.”
Sasha smiled.
“You need to be your true authentic self, the right man will see that and he will stay, just take this as the trash taking itself out and start all over again.”

ON THE RUN (1) a novella

For my dear life, I had to run.

The ray of sunshine filtered into the room through the blinds. I looked at the clock which was across the wall from me. It was a few minutes past 7 am. My partner was not laying next to me. He had not done so in almost two years. I never imagined waking up alone every single day. Some nights he would creep into the bed and put a pillow between us. Other nights he would have me drunk with wine and then have sex with me with the lights off. I could see his eyes in the dark and the contortion of his face when he was about to cum. It was a routine I had gotten used to. He didn’t care if I was on my period or not sometimes. It felt like rape.

Yes, I said “sex”. I could not remember the last time we made love. He kept himself buried with work on his computer or found every excuse in the book to keep away. Our lovemaking ended when our daughter turned two. I craved to have my husband to myself some nights. He rejected me every time I tried touching him. He came up with the idea of having a pillow between us. I pulled the covers over my head. Why did I wake up to this day?

It was May the 28th, my 31st birthday. A year ago, it was my 30th birthday, all I did was plan a small girls’ trip with my friends. I left my little one with my aunt, who was more than delighted to have her for the weekend.

I looked forward to this day as a child. At age thirty-one, I hoped to have a husband and a child or rather children. I hoped to have gone to college and graduated to become an engineer. All though I had accomplished everything on my list, I was in an unhappy marriage.

I never imagined I would ever be in an unhappy marriage. My parents had a happy marriage until my mom passed away. I was eighteen years when she passed away. My dad was distraught for a few years. It was hard to watch him slip into depression.

I don’t even know how my husband and I got here. I am sure you are wondering. Is there another woman involved?

Yes, there is another woman involved. She hates me so much that she is bent on watching my marriage get destroyed. I became a stranger in my own home, the one that I had built with him. We were broke grad school students at the time we bought the house. We wanted to get our Master’s and move on with life. When we got approved for the loan to buy the house, we spent to search for the perfect home in a nice neighborhood. We finally found a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath in the suburbs. Those were happy days for us until the other woman who was lurking in the shadows made her appearance.