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  • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 15:06 on October 11, 2020 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Fucking (With) Psychopaths   

    How Quickly Doth Thy Mask Drop, Oh Psychopath? 

    I’m 52 years old and I am accepting for once and for all that I am a psychopath magnet. I have dated one after the other, back to back, since I was in my teens (1980’s). I didn’t know anything about psychopathy. There was no internet! It’s hard to remember those days. I hate that it took me so long to recognize that I was raised by my psychopathic father to have no boundaries. He made me highly tolerant of dysfunctional behavior, and until I caught on 8 years ago, I completely fell for men who had “superficial charm” and no actual feelings for me. Such pain I suffered after The Discard! Every time.

    I still date men with psychopathy, now knowing that they are incapable of bonding and having real relationships. I go fully into the fake relationship knowing that it’s all about the sex for him. Guess what? I have given up on normal, so from now on … it’s all about the sex for me, too.

    This is my first foray into actually documenting my encounters with people with psychopathy. I will be journaling from now on. My book should have been a thousand pages by now. I met this guy on POF (Plenty of Fish). That’s because I always attract the psychopaths no matter which paid/free dating app I use, so going ahead, I’ll simply stick with the free source of material for my psychopathy research. (I just ending it with another psychopath that I met on Match.com a month ago.)

    Here’s the story with Adam (don’t even know his last name): We met on a Tuesday afternoon for meet and greet. There was a lot of his blathering “I like your insert blank (this and that and yada yada) – just love bombing to the max. On Friday, we went for dinner and drinks, and of course the love bombing goes on thick. I like being told that I’m beautiful, so do please continue sir. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I knew that he was a psychopath from our first phone conversation. I am highly hip to their dysfunctional storytelling now.

    We had sex. We had mind-blowing sex. At least I did. He kept dropping the love bombs, so who knows truth from lies on his part.

    The next day, I did my best to avoid his texts, but he kept pretending to like me. It’s ridiculous how transparent he was to me. By Sunday, I just wanted out because he didn’t make me laugh! That’s a requirement – make me laugh and we can hang out more.

    Here’s a synopsis of his mask drop: He pretends he wants to be a couple. I say no. He pretends to want my company for dinner. I say ok. Then he abandons the dinner offer and says just sex. lol. I knew that was coming.

     
  • James 19:15 on November 20, 2018 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Crna Gora, , Kotor, Montenegro, , , , , , ,   

    Postcard to myself 

    20181120_200645

    There are venomous snakes in this box. You think it’s chocolates and that I’m sorry, but I’m not and it’s snakes.

    I have been going through some cards, letters and postcards from my life up until now. My old room is getting ripped out and replaced with something new, to cater to my parents’ obsession with decorating and modernising their house, so all these forgotten bits and pieces have been coming to light for the first time in 10, 15, in some cases 20, years. What can I say? I’m a magpie.

    And there’s this stash of old post, which has given me a new perspective on my upbringing. Because I was relatively late to become aware of psychopathy and specifically that it pertained to who I am (this I discovered at the age of 18; I’m now 25), I have been under the impression that other people in my life were similarly clueless about my nature. Not so.

    There’s the card in the picture, sent to me one Christmas by a school friend, who wrote that it “reminded me of you… happy Xmas, you weirdo.” There’s another card, sent by family friends, with reference to an atlas they bought me: “You always said you wanted to take over the world. Let this inspire you.” Rereading that today reminded me that, yes, I was a megalomaniacal motormouth at one stage of my childhood, and had evidently revealed some or all of my plans to this family – rookie Bond villain mistake. And that is why I will never get the chance to be tried for war crimes in The Hague.

    Then there was this bizarre Wallace and Gromit birthday card, sent to my grandad from all of my family, which read inside, in my mother’s spiky handwriting: “Happy birthday, Dad. This card was chosen by Jamie on the understanding that you’ll post it back to him.” It was dated 1997; I was three. Little control freak.

    Sure, so there’s no smoking gun. No “Ohhh my God, my baby’s a psycho, what do I dooo?” letter. But there’s knowledge – and acceptance – of my personality. I’m lucky to have parents who have never tried to deny who I am, and who have supported me from the start. It just goes to show that sometimes close friends and family know you better than you do yourself.


    Image result for kotor postcard

    In the same pile, I also came across a postcard from Montenegro, sent in 2008 by me… to me. It was postmarked and everything, sent par avion across Europe from the tiny Balkan state to my home in England. This is it, folks – peak narcissism:

    Dear future self,

    Ha! Ha! I’m on holiday, you’re not!

    Classy.

    It goes on –

    Hope the ol’ ear has cleared up by the time I get this.

    Oh, that’s right. I got an ear infection from the poorly-chlorinated swimming pool. I had to get some strange ear potion from the apothecary in Kotor. Yes, apothecary;  Montenegro’s a hell of a place.

    I am sitting on my apartment’s balcony. Jealous?

    Yes. Fuck you.

    Anyway, fuck you.

    Be you later,

    James

    Great, well thanks for that, 15-year old James.

    The moral of the story? Never meet your heroes, because they’re sure to disappoint.

     
    • nowve666 20:53 on November 20, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      This is the weirdest post of yours I’ve seen. So you wrote a postcard to your “future self” and taunted your future self that you were on vacation and he (you) were not?

      Like

    • 1jaded1 21:42 on November 20, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      I laughed and I’m not ashamed. The first card with the snakes is just too funny.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Jul 22:47 on April 30, 2020 Permalink | Reply

      Some learned people have called that “narcissism “. Narcissism requires some ability to be proud of, and there’s none displayed here. We call this vanity, being vain. A common trait among women, but horrifying to see among men. Oh well. Go eat your own flavor of sewage. The world can be your toilet. I coupd care less

      Like

  • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 06:32 on October 15, 2018 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , Authoritarians, , callous unemotional, , , , degenerate, divide and conquer, , , , , , , , misogynist, , , psychiatry, , psychopath test politicians, self-serving, , , Trump, word salad   

    How To Explain Trump To Kids – A Lesson in Personality Disorders 

    Trump

    “Remember the other day at the playground when that bully said, ‘I don’t care about you. I only care about me!’ Imagine if that kid ran the country.”

    via How To Explain Trump To Kids – Dad and Buried

    by Mike Julianelle

     

     

    .

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    • Amaterasu Solar 11:42 on October 15, 2018 Permalink | Reply

      Good article but for the fact that He seems to yet think the LARP that is politics is “reality.” It is scripted and played out on the literal world stage, the script written, the characters cast, the directing from the wings, by the psychopaths in control.

      Like

      • GeneticPsychosMom (Tina) 09:15 on October 17, 2018 Permalink | Reply

        I don’t see what you are talking about – that he shows a belief in politics is “reality”? To me, he’s just making a point about Trump in particular.

        Liked by 1 person

        • James 20:51 on October 18, 2018 Permalink | Reply

          She’s talking about the fevered imaginings of her mind, brought about by a delusional psychosis.

          Like

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