MARCH 27, 2021: “Starving A Narcissist” …

… but even THEN, sometimes it takes a minute to send them packing for their next meal.

In November of 1996, I “got to learn” the very hard way what really lied beneath the surface of the most narcissistic, evil man I’ve ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with …

… and his name was John.

Note that as I wrote “man”, I literally and not metaphorically laughed my fucking ass off! I’ve since been enlightened as to the true measure of a man, and “man” gives him way more credit than what his very SMALL affect truly is (and I do mean SMALL in every way). He’s a hoovering narcissist. Nothing more and nothing less:

Narcissists begin hoovering when they want something from you such as attention, validation, money or sex. But the deepest reason why narcissists hoover is because they are completely internally empty. They have a pathological fear of feeling insignificant, unlovable, alone or worthless, so they do whatever they can to fill this empty void and sustain their false self-image. Narcissists are fundamentally addicted to the attention of others. Without attention and control, they starve. When their reservoirs of narcissistic supply run out, they seek to prey off the old “meat” they managed to catch in the past – and that means you. This also means that they usually have many “backups” (e.g. other exes) to feed off when they begin to feel hungry again. Like predators, a narcissist knows how to manipulate the weaknesses of those they have preyed on before. They will try to entice you through random texts, apologies, declarations of undying love, and “repentant” gestures which try to convince you how much they have “changed” and “care” for you.
(8 Signs You’re The Victim Of An Abusive Hoovering Narcissist“)

As par for the course over the past 20 years, John has never fully left my atmosphere since our near fateful departure. Not long after he and Angie leveled me to the point of almost no return, he showed up at my home to deliver a stack of Christmas presents and a little somethin’ else. Keep in mind that he was already engaged to Angie at the time, and although NOTHING happened between “us”, something indeed happened between “him and himself” right there on my bed! It was one of the most twisted things I’d ever witnessed in my life, and this is saying a lot. After having driven myself crazy and spent time in a couple of “facilities”, not to mention some of the other twisted things I’d seen courtesy of my own fucked up and TWISTED family, trust me when I say that I’VE WITNESSED SOME TWISTED SHIT!

At first, he gaslighted it all back to my insanity, but a friend hooked my phone up to a recording device so I could at least try to bait the truth out of him in what he thought was a private conversation. Lol! The dumbfuck actually fell for it! I then took the recording to the used car dealership that Angie’s family owned and played it for her father and brother, who was one of John’s best friends. Needless to say, it didn’t end well for the small man and dear, sweet ‘lil Angie. I’d been vindicated! Believe me when I say that although this tale seems way too far fetched, the people who helped me bust “Hoovery McNarcissist” at what was almost his best mind fuck EVER are both still very much alive to tell about it.

Meanwhile, some years later, in the irony of all ironies, despite the fact that he had always chastised the “pompous affluence” in the small town where I lived, guess which “pompous and affluent” town John and his now ex-wife, Wendy, built a home in? That’s right, people … OURS! In fact, they built their home in the subdivision that abutted the one where my parents still live today, which also abutted the subdivision my ex-husband and I used to live. So, imagine my surprise years later when I walked a then baby Gia to the park across the street from my home, only to find John’s wife and daughter there, too. I’m not gonna lie, I have long since wondered whether there was really any irony there at all.

Very long and sordid tale short, they eventually began working out at the Lifetime Fitness Center that was our “gym home” (and is still mine), and we would see them there often. At a certain point, in being polite, formal introductions were made, and my husband (who’s physical presence over-powered him by at least a half a foot and a hundred pounds) had even shaken his hand once. Meanwhile, Zack knew all about “John and Angie”, so, every time he saw me politely, yet ever so awkwardly ensnared by John’s attempts at conversation, he literally wanted to slit his throat. Both Zack and Gia had always said he looked like an actual snake (and now that I think of it, he kinda does), and whenever Gia sees him, she physically shudders.

Creepier still, both Angie and that ex-wife of his I’d met at the park after Angie dumped him had become a members at that gym. They were all there all the fucking time! But in my mind, bygones were now bygones, I was happy in my new life with Zack, so, it just was what it was

In his defense, I must admit that I brought his last round of bullshit on myself. Not because I’m weak … BECAUSE I’M FORGIVING! He’d reached out to me not too long after Zack died, and I’d even agreed to meet him for dinner because I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that somehow he’d changed. Also? I thought it would be a good idea to finally have some closure there and relieve myself of some residual bitterness that still existed where he was concerned.

Needless to say, the dinner didn’t end well, and perhaps someday I’ll tell you why. As for now, I’ll reveal how this drama finally played out by showing you! If you pay close enough attention to the dates and times, you’ll clearly see it! Texting; Double-texting; “Feigned concern”; fucking BARF:

MARCH 27, 2020:

APRIL 5, 2020:

APRIL 6, 2020:

APRIL 12, 2020:

APRIL 29, 2020:

APRIL 30, 2020:

MAY 10, 2020:

MAY 24, 2020:

JUNE 13, 2020:

AUGUST 13 & 14, 2020:


Well, kind of! On Tuesday, February 16th, he texted me again. Then again. Then again.

To which my final response is THIS:

Unaffected, unimpressed, and laughing my ass off again. Meanwhile, if you know this Diary, you know I have a song for almost every entry. Nope. Not this one. Music is my therapy … my happy place … MY EVERYTHING!

How very starved these two pathetic creatures posing as human beings must have been that my heart became meals for his very small affect and her insignificant, insecure, and insincere ego.

{“What Lied Beneath“}

So, in keeping with that train of thought, and instead of my usual “song”, I suppose all that really remains for “this thing” that was once in my life are these five final words:

Starve ‘lil narcissist!


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