The Time This Guy Thought I was a Hooker

By Kim Saeed | Initiating No Contact

Jun 04

I sometimes dissociate  when I think of  the bizarre situations I put myself through by staying with my delusional, disordered Ex.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you probably know that one of the Red Flags for Spotting a Narcissist that I endorse is the one where they want you to change your hair or style of dress.

Why does Kim talk about that so much?” Well, it’s because I totally did both.  I changed my hair AND the way I dressed.  And it wasn’t for the better.

My once brunette hair – which had been professional, yet feminine – underwent several processes in order to transform into blonde.  It wasn’t an attractive development.  The first attempt turned my hair orange.  Not the sexy and alluring Christina Hendricks kind of orange.  It was more like a crazy-weird dreamsicle kind of orange.  Imagine how I felt going to my job as a bank manager trying to pretend I hadn’t made one of the worst hair faux pas of Corporate America.

Then came the wardrobe malfunction alteration.   My Ex, in his undercover attempt at discovering just how far I’d go as a codependent good supply, informed me shortly after we started dating that I had no fashion sense.  So, sadly I went from a generally business-casual sort of dress to a Hey, Check Out My Cleavage and Micro-Mini! kind of attire.

Fast-forward to that fateful day.  My Psycho Ward Patient Ex and I had just set out on a jaunt to some restaurant he wanted to try and we’d made it approximately fifteen yards out of the driveway when he hit me with a verbal whammy.

What it was I don’t recall.  It’s been permanently blocked from my memory.  All I know is that when he came to a stop sign, I exited his car and went storming down the side of the road.  In a really bad part of town.  The kind with run-down 7-11s and seedy adult video stores.

I’d not made it very far when some guy slowed down beside me, opened his passenger-side car door and gestured for me to hop in…coincidentally, right in front of XXX Adult Videos.  The kind of store that is so bad they probably have a secret door in the back for the really “good” stuff.

I pretended I didn’t see him and kept walking, trying to maintain the one molecule of dignity I hoped to still possess.

In hindsight, that’s what I did the entire time my Ex and I were together – seeking some unknown destination, anywhere away from him, but I always ended up back with him in the crackerbox duplex that he owned with his brother, despising myself for going back.  Hating my life and feeling utterly powerless to change anything.

It was all an illusion.  I had the power to walk away the whole time.  I kept myself in that prison.

“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.” ~ Alice Walker

I have a bumper sticker on my car with that quote.  It’s a daily reminder that I can choose most of what happens in my life – a memento of my triumph.

And that I’ll never disgrace myself for another person again.

Do you have any bizarre tales to share regarding your time as Narcissistic Supply? Please share in the box below! (We promise not to tell anyone)

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