To Be Honest: Red Flags Digest

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 8

Coach Tene — Thu, 12 Feb 2026 14:10:31 GMT

Read all the chapters of the I Dated a Narcissist series here.

The weekend after my relationship with Kevin ended, I went to a fete (a large party during Carnival with live music and performances) where I ran into dozens of our mutual friends. Almost every encounter went something like this:

Friend: “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Me, with a shrug: “We broke up”

Friend: “Good. He was draining you anyway.”

What nobody tells you about dating a narcissist is that the people around you usually know before you do. People are observant, and they can see when someone is draining your life force even if you don’t.

But by the third time this happened, I started to question why nobody had said anything while Kevin and I were together.

In case you’re new here and wondering what makes me qualified to talk about any of this, I have a background in psychology, gender studies, and demography, and I’ve been a behavioural and gender-based violence researcher for about 8 years.

I’m also a certified wellbeing coach who works with high-performing leaders, helping them cope with chronic stress, cultivate resilience and create sustainable relationships. Plus, I’m a soon-to-be PhD student, and I’m already doing research for my dissertation exploring masculinity, power dynamics and social connections.

The moment that the people in our community learned that Kevin and I were no longer together, I began hearing about all the things that were happening behind the scenes.

All the ways that Kevin had disrespected me, lied to and lied about me, played in my face and behind my back.

I heard about how he was sexting other women. About how he was flirting with women behind my back at events when he told me he was going outside to smoke. About how he was talking about other women whom he wanted to sleep with and who he believed wanted to sleep with him.

All of the ways that Kevin was mistrusted within the community, all of his problematic behaviours, all of the lies he had told to and about other people in the community.

I heard the other side of Kevin’s stories about the people who had supposedly stolen his ideas and whom he said were jealous of him. From their perspective, Kevin had used them and hung them out to dry when they were no longer useful to him. Sound familiar?

Like an effervescent tab dropped in water, everything came bubbling to the surface.

I felt both validated, because I wasn’t the only person who had seen how problematic Kevin was, and infuriated because why had nobody told me anything before?

None of my close friends or family had come to me directly. Nobody had told me anything about Kevin’s problematic behaviours while he was courting me. Yet now that we were no longer together, everyone had something to say.

It makes me wonder what would have happened if I weren’t the person I am. Even though I was able to embody the qualities of narcissistic kryptonite that ensured that Kevin didn’t want to be around me for very long, I could have been spared the pain of being with a narcissist at all.

Even a small observation like "You seem tired since you and Kevin got together” or “I don’t really like his energy” from a trusted friend would have been enough to make me think twice, especially during the honeymoon phase when the rose-coloured glasses are in full effect.

And I get that sometimes we don’t want to get in the middle of people’s relationships. I understand the repercussions of getting involved.

There've been times I’ve been told that these things are none of my business. Since publishing this series, people have shared their experiences trying to help their friends in narcissistic relationships that have resulted in them losing friends, getting cursed out, or having to watch these people return to their abusers. And I get it.

But community—real community—means being willing to take that risk. It means being willing to get in the middle. It means trying even though it might not be received well at first, but knowing your willingness to try might just save someone’s life.

As for how I’m moving on…

Well, I still live in the same community as Kevin, which means I still see him occasionally as I go about my daily life. Some days it hurts because, despite the short time we were together, I did care deeply about him. And it sucks to know that he manipulated me and that I fell for his manipulations.

We also still have many of the same mutual friends and acquaintances. But I haven’t shied away from being visible in our community. I still go to events, I still speak to the people who know us both, and I still work with people who also work with Kevin. It’s a small city, so there’s no getting away from that.

Some people may have read this series, some haven’t. Some may be Kevin’s flying monkeys. Some may have since realised that Kevin was also manipulating them. Regardless, everyone is now moving forward.

It’s strange to think that it’s only been about two weeks since the breakup, as of writing this. So much has happened that it feels like it’s been another two months.

I did block Kevin from contacting me on every possible platform.

The thing is, there’s a fourth stage of a narcissistic relationship. It’s called the hoovering phase, and it can happen weeks, months or even years after the end of a narcissistic relationship. This is when the narc comes back with apologies, grand gestures, false promises that they’ve changed, claims that they missed you or some other form of nostalgia to tug on your heartstrings and suck you back into the narcissistic relationship.

And I have no intention of being seduced back into Kevin’s manipulative arms. So I went no-contact to cut off his supply.

I expect that eventually we may run into each other somewhere, but so far the universe has managed to keep Kevin out of my orbit, for which I’m thankful.

As for Kevin, he’s already found his new narcissistic supply. As narcs often do when they are getting ready to discard someone, he already started scoping her out before our relationship had ended. I’ve sent her this series to warn her about what she’s getting into. But then again, maybe she will end up being Kevin’s kryptonite. Who knows? Regardless, I pray for her protection.

Kevin, like most narcissists, is unlikely to change. He will probably continue to avoid accountability, refuse to engage in therapy, and blame others for his own faults. And unfortunately, some people will continue to excuse Kevin’s behaviour. In fact, the only person who might be able to have an impact on Kevin—his mother—continues to enable his abusive behaviour.

I also get that it’s hard to pull up your friends and your family members. It takes a lot of courage to make those kinds of waves in your family or community. But we have got to stop excusing abuse in our communities. We have to start telling our friends and family the hard truths, calling them out on their problematic behaviour, and holding them accountable. That’s the only way the cycle ends.

Moving forward, I have a lot to focus on aside from Kevin.

Those of you who know me or have interacted with me know that I always have something going on, and this year is no different. I still have clients to coach and a business to run. But more than that, I’ll be launching new coaching services, finishing a coaching certification, writing my book, training for a half-marathon (I regret telling my trainer this one, tbh, but here we are), and, later this year, I’ll be back in grad school.

(My therapist calls this overachieving; I call it ADHD.)

And, of course, I’ll continue to use my experience to raise awareness about narcissistic relationships and help people heal from and avoid them, possibly alongside the T&T Narcissism Awareness Foundation.

I will say that this saga has brought me closer to my friends and my community. It might seem counterintuitive, but having a common enemy can actually bring people together more effectively than more traditionally “positive” methods of bonding. And this is exactly what’s happened for me.

Everyone who has had their own narcissist horror story has bonded through our shared terrible experiences. Some of them were long-time friends whom I’ve now seen more times this month than I had in the previous two years. Ironically, being in a narcissistic relationship has had a unifying effect on my community.

But this could only happen because someone started speaking up about the abuse. Otherwise, we’d have all been suffering in silence.

(This also reminded me that, although I love being a hermit, I need to make more of an effort to check in and spend time with my friends).

More than anything, this experience has taught me three things:

I learned to listen to my body and my intuition above all else. The moment I wrote in my journal that I should leave the relationship, I should have left. I didn’t need more evidence. I didn’t need a conversation. I didn’t need an explanation. I just needed to head out.
My training doesn’t make me immune to abuse and manipulation. It made it easier to spot when I was being manipulated, gave me the tools to deal with manipulation when it was happening, and helped me to stay grounded in the midst of conflict, but nobody is immune. This is why we need friends and a good support system, so we have other people to look out for us and to spot manipulation on our behalf.
My energy is magnetic, but I must be discerning. This experience made me realise that because of how I move through the world, I will attract all kinds of people and not all of them have good intentions. So, the onus is on me to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Finally, I learned that being a difficult woman pays off. Having boundaries, saying no, thinking for yourself, having your own opinions, and being unapologetically confident might earn you a label of “difficult”, but it sure as hell makes sure that you can’t be f*cked with. Which is infinitely more important if you ask me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I started writing this series. I only knew that I wanted to protect people from being abused by narcissists like Kevin.

Now, on the other side of it, I will say that writing this has been incredibly healing for me. I tend to be very private about my personal life, and sharing my story so vulnerably is not something I’ve ever done before.

I’m grateful to my support system for coming out in full force to lift me up on the heels of this relationship. And I’m grateful to each and everyone one of who you made it to the end of this series.

I hope it helped you recognise if you’ve experienced narcissistic abuse in your own life. Or otherwise helped you support someone you care for who might be in a narcissistic relationship.

For additional support, I’ve put together a list of resources to help heal from narcissistic abuse. You can download it for free here.

Until next time, stay informed and stay safe.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated or do you know a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

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I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 7

Coach Tene — Wed, 11 Feb 2026 14:06:18 GMT

Catch up on the I Dated a Narcissist series here. Or keep reading, don’t let me tell you what to do.

Unpopular opinion: The best antidote for narcissistic abuse isn’t healing, it’s becoming the kind of person a narcissist doesn’t want to f*ck with at all.

Most narcissism content will tell you about how to heal from the trauma of a narcissistic relationship.

But honestly, I’m tired of telling survivors to heal. I’m tired of the “solution” only coming after the abuse has already happened.

When the onus is on the survivors to heal, it means the systems and structures that give narcissists and abusers the power to cause pain in the first place stay exactly the same.

Yes, heal. Yes, go to therapy. Yes, deal with the trauma.

AND I’d rather empower you to repel narcissists from the outset. I’d rather you become a narc’s worst nightmare. I’d rather help you become narcissistic kryptonite—so you can weaken a narc and take away their power over you and take it back into your own hands.

If you’re new here and wondering what qualifies me to talk about any of this, I have a background in psychology, gender studies, and demography, and I’ve been a behavioural and gender-based violence researcher for about 8 years.

Normally, narcissistic relationships last for some time before the victim realises they’re being abused (if they ever do). The reason Kevin and my relationship only lasted a couple of months is not that I was so “healed”. It was because I embodied the qualities of narcissistic kryptonite. I was everything a narcissist hates, and Kevin could not last very long in my presence.

So it’s time for me to teach you how to weaken a narcissist and beat them at their own game.

Always have your own thing going on

In part 3 of this series, I shared how Kevin suddenly changed from being a doting lover to giving me the cold shoulder when my vacation ended, and I went back to work.

By definition, a narcissist needs to feel like they are the centre of your world. They want you to be dependent on them, to defer to them on all things, to spend all of your time with them and them alone.

Remember, narcissists thrive on having control over you. So, having your own things going on—your own job, business, money, interests, hobbies—makes it harder to control you, and means the narc will likely move on in search of an easier target. This goes extra for having your own friends and support system.

The busier I got with work and my studies, the more Kevin picked fights. The more I went out with my friends without him, the more annoyed he got. He even once tried to get me to cancel my weekly session with my coach, and when I refused, he went out on a bar crawl with another woman (something I didn’t learn until after we’d broken up) and didn’t contact me for over a day.

I didn’t budge, though. These things were non-negotiables for me, and they made it difficult for Kevin to isolate and control me.

Say “no” often and stick to your boundaries

Speaking of non-negotiables, very little enraged Kevin more than when I said “no”.

In fact, any variation of the word or any hint of me setting a boundary would send Kevin into either a rageful or depressive spiral.

That’s not true.
I can’t.
Not right now.
I’m busy tonight.
That’s not right.
I’m still on the phone.
I have plans.

While narcissists love to push your limits and test you, when you set firm boundaries and stick to them, they lose their power over you. Boundaries are a sign that you cannot be controlled, that they are not in charge, that they cannot manipulate you into doing what they want you to do.

And that is something a narcissist cannot stand.

Know you’re a bad b*tch and act like it

At first, Kevin acted like he loved the fact that I would light up a room when I entered it. He would brag to his friends about how I could just walk into a space and manifest my way into whatever I wanted.

But I quickly realised that Kevin resented this about me because it meant that he was not in the limelight.

As Kevin introduced me to his friends and the people in his life, they began telling him not to fumble me, that he needed to deal with his shit so that he could be the kind of partner I deserved. His own mother told him that his vibration must have raised because he was able to be with someone like me (in front of me, no less, which is its own version of insanity).

Narcissists cannot stand when someone shines brighter than them.

Soon, Kevin started competing with me. He would make backhanded comments to take me down a notch. He would desert me at events we attended together. And soon he moved on to discarding me when he realised he couldn’t stop me from being my radiant self.

Never let a narcissist dim your light, and they will move on.

Stay calm and grounded

Often, narcissists will try to provoke you to get a reaction. It doesn’t matter whether that reaction is anger, frustration, sadness or some other emotion. The point is to push your buttons and get a rise out of you. This fuels their sense of control over situations and over you, and gives them opportunities to gaslight and manipulate you.

This is why Kevin would pick fights. This is how he could stare at me while I cried with no remorse and no empathy.

I noticed that when I stayed grounded in a situation, when I refused to rise to the bait, Kevin would get even more inflamed. I especially saw this in one particular argument when I started using a new technique to help me stay centred during conflict.

I had just started the Positive Intelligence coaching programme, and it taught us how to use something called PQ reps—small exercises to focus attention on body sensations—to regulate during heightened emotions. So when the conversation started getting out of control, I used these techniques to stay centred. The more centred I was, the more inflamed Kevin became. Eventually, he stopped the conversation altogether and left in a huff.

I will warn you that this technique may cause a narcissist to retaliate. Kevin did try to create another situation to provoke me after this incident. The trick is to continue to stay grounded, refuse to rise to the bait, and if necessary, leave when things become untenable, which I did.

Agreeing with their insults

Kevin liked to do this thing where he fished for compliments by insulting himself. He would also try to insult me and use backhanded compliments to get me to doubt myself and seek his approval.

He detested it when I just…agreed with him.

Remember the Destiny’s Child argument? When he said I wasn’t the authority on music, I told him, “I’m not the authority on anything music, but I’m allowed to have an opinion.” When I said this, he became sullen and stopped speaking.

Another time, he said that he couldn’t argue with me because he wasn’t as smart as me and didn’t have as many degrees as I do. I shrugged and responded: “Well, no, you don’t. That’s not a problem for me, is it for you?” When he couldn’t answer the question, he changed the subject.

You need to have a degree (no pun intended) of unshakeable confidence when doing this, because a narcissist will quickly adapt and try different angles for their insults.

When a narc realises their hurtful words don’t affect you, they lose their power. And you take yours back.

Refusing to stay silent

I think the thing that a narcissist hates more than anything is accountability.

Narcissists hate being held accountable even more than they hate being told no. A narcissist needs to have their exaggerated sense of self validated by others, so they despise it when you expose their bad behaviour and force them to face the truth of themselves.

I have it on good authority that Kevin hates that I’ve written this series. Hates that I have refused to be silent about the ways he abused me during the time that we were together. Hates that all this is public for the world to see.

I also have it on good authority that he’s been attempting to smear my character with a twisted version of events—one where I’m a condescending, unsafe b*tch who never loved him and is hopelessly jealous of him. One that conveniently omits his own abusive actions.

But silence only protects the abuser.

Shame and the risk of being portrayed as a villain can keep us silent about narcissistic abuse. We might not want to admit that we fell for the narcissist’s sob story. We definitely don’t want to face the fact that we fell in love with someone who manipulated us.

Plus, narcissistic abuse makes you doubt yourself, doubt your intuition, doubt your perception of events, so much so that you might not even believe that you went through what you did.

But like the Epstein files, we need to start telling on these b*tches.

Staying silent means continuing to give your power to the narc. It means you allow them to tell your story for you. It means you allow them to make their version of events the reality.

And I guarantee you that their version of events doesn’t include all the pain they caused you.

There are many other ways to reclaim your power from a narcissist, but these are, in my opinion, the most important ingredients to turning yourself into narcissistic kryptonite.

Above all, though, you must trust yourself, validate yourself, and believe your intuition at every turn.

Most people who end up in narcissistic relationships long-term say that they knew in the first few dates that something was off. When your intuition tells you something ain’t right, believe it. It’s telling you that for a reason.

Tomorrow, we move on to the final chapter in this saga, where I’ll tell you all about the aftermath of my relationship with Kevin, how it impacted the community around us, and how I’m moving forward.

Stay tuned.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated or do you know a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

Leave a comment

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 6

Coach Tene — Tue, 10 Feb 2026 14:09:00 GMT

Click here to get caught up on the I Dated a Narcissist series. Or, just keep reading, don’t let me tell you what to do.

The first sign that my relationship with Kevin had entered the discard phase was, quite simply, that we stopped having sex.

But more than sex, Kevin and I had been extremely affectionate with each other. Before Kevin discarded the relationship, we constantly hugging, kissing, holding hands, wanting to be close to each other, finding any excuse for physical contact. So, it wasn’t hard to notice when Kevin’s attraction to me seemed to disappear overnight.

He stopped telling me that I was beautiful. Stopped sending me memes and reels that reflected his feelings for me, stopped responding to my reels altogether.

He no longer gripped my thigh when we sat next to each other, or whispered his desire into my ear when we were out in public, just to make me blush. I stopped catching him staring at me with that small smile men wear when they’re in love.

The shift was palpable.

And after the explosive episode I shared in part four of this series, I had already realised that Kevin and I could not continue as we were. Something had to change.

Two days before Kevin discarded our relationship, I woke up with a deep sense of resolve.

I had noticed that I wasn’t being as productive as I normally was. I had been feeling too exhausted and drained to do the work that I knew was on my plate. My dirty laundry had piled up so high that I didn’t even have any clean underwear. I had bags under my eyes, and my skin was losing its lustre, taking on this dry, dull, pallid quality that no serum or mask could fix.

I had been spending a lot of time at Kevin’s place by this time, so I decided that I would scale back. I woke up, made a cup of tea, checked my emails, showered, packed and organised my overnight bag and got dressed.

Kevin must have sensed something shift in my energy because he came in while I was in the shower to ask if I was hungry and tell me that he was making breakfast for us so that we could eat together when I was finished—something he had not done before during the entirety of our relationship.

Yet, when I emerged 30 minutes later, Kevin had not even begun preparing breakfast. In fact, there was no indication that he had been in the kitchen at all. He was outside, on his balcony, smoking a cigarette and playing music on his laptop.

When he spotted me in the kitchen finishing my tea, he made his way inside, began pulling things out of the fridge and asking me questions about how to prepare the meal.

After a while, I confessed to him that I was frustrated. He had made it sound like he was going to prepare a meal for us, and now it seemed like he was expecting me to do the work for him. And as I had done 99% of the cooking in our relationship thus far, I felt disappointed and unappreciated.

Kevin’s mood instantly became sullen. He began what I now recognised as his usual tirade, talking about how he frustrates me, how he isn’t good enough and can’t do anything right.

I stopped him. Told him that I didn’t have the capacity to engage in another argument. I thanked him for the gesture of preparing breakfast, but told him that I wouldn’t be staying to eat and that I had some work that I needed to do. I kissed him lightly and left with the promise of messaging him later that day.

I wasn’t surprised when, that night, he told me he wanted to be alone. The next day, Kevin’s message confirmed what I already knew was coming:

“Hey. Hope you are alright. I’m not sure what your schedule looks like but I want to have a serious conversation with you about our relationship. Telling you now so you are prepared.”

When the narcissist feels you no longer serve their needs or you begin to assert yourself, they often discard the relationship. This can happen abruptly—sometimes after a seemingly small disagreement. In other cases, it may follow months of emotional distancing. Some narcissists simply ghost their partners, while others deliver a cold, cruel goodbye.

Kevin definitely chose the cold, cruel goodbye route.

In the conversation, he brought up our past disagreements, of course, devoid of all context. He told me that he felt unsafe around me. I asked him to explain more, telling him that I would like to understand so that I could avoid doing so in the future, whether with him or otherwise.

When he couldn’t answer that, he told me that I was condescending. Again, I asked him to explain more. Again, he couldn’t answer.

So he pivoted, claiming that I never truly cared about him. I asked him why he thought that, and again, he could offer no explanation, no reason, no concrete example. He simply said, “Because you don’t”.

I told Kevin that I had also wanted to address some things with him and mentioned that I felt unsafe when he shouted, raged and hit things. He cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

“Well, if I make you feel so unsafe,” he said angrily, “We should just break up.”

I paused. Took a deep breath.

“Maybe we should.”

I don’t think Kevin was expecting me to simply agree with him because this is when he started spinning out. I think he expected me to beg and my matter-of-fact acceptance sent him into a spiral, so he began justifying himself and the breakup.

At first, he told me that he was ending the relationship not because he wanted to but because he had to, returning to saying that I was condescending and didn’t care about him.

I countered, saying that we both knew that wasn’t true.

Then he said he was ending the relationship because I said he was manipulative, a gaslighter, and an abuser. Again, I countered, saying we both knew that that wasn’t true. (He was, but I hadn’t said that).

Finally, he said he was ending the relationship because he couldn’t take care of me and that I shouldn’t want to be with him anyway.

That part? Yeah, that was true.

We took the short walk over to his place so that I could collect the few items I had left there, where we had a tearful goodbye. Suddenly, in the midst of this, Kevin threw himself on the living room floor as if he had fainted (but still managed to break his fall, so think what you will of that).

I sat quietly, waiting for the dramatic display to be over. Not fawning, just waiting. His cat seemed accustomed to these kinds of displays because she didn’t attempt to check on him, just climbed onto my lap and waited with me.

Just as suddenly as he collapsed, Kevin got up. He shouted that I was draining him and that I was trying to force him to stay in a relationship, slammed his head into a wall and walked out of the apartment without a word, slamming the door behind him.

Later, Kevin sent me a message apologizing and saying that we could have a follow-up conversation later that week when we were both more regulated.

Yet, two days later, I receive this message:

Cold, cruel goodbye indeed.

I will say that staying so grounded during this series of events was probably the hardest part of this saga. I didn’t beg, I didn’t plead. I had already admitted to myself (and my therapist) that this was not a healthy relationship, and that Kevin was not a healthy person for me to be around.

As difficult as it was for me to reconcile this version of Kevin with the one I fell in love with, I knew that it was for the best that we were ending things before any more damage was done.

In the next instalment, we’ll talk about how to become a narcissist’s kryptonite and then, we’ll close this series by talking about the aftermath of my relationship with Kevin. Stay tuned.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated or do you know a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

Leave a comment

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 5

Coach Tene — Mon, 09 Feb 2026 14:05:21 GMT

Catch up on the previous instalments of I Dated a Narcissist So You Don’t Have To here.

Two things I want you to remember:

A narcissistic partner is a narcissistic friend is a narcissistic parent is a narcissistic coworker is a narcissistic boss.

And if someone tells you that all their exes are crazy, all of their past ex-friends were jealous of them, all of their colleagues want to copy them, I can guarantee you that the exes, the friends and the colleagues are not the problem.

This was Kevin.

You might have read this far thinking that Kevin only behaves this way in romantic relationships, but Kevin's narcissistic behaviour extends to everyone in his life. Even the people who trusted him, worked with him and gave him opportunities.

Nobody was exempt.

For someone to be defined as a narcissist, they have to meet at least 5 out of the 9 diagnostic criteria.

So, does Kevin fit the criteria? I’ll let you judge that for yourself.

Grandiose sense of self-importance; Shows arrogant, haughty behaviours or attitudes.

Kevin never finished art school. Nothing wrong with that. The problem was that he regularly told people he had attended a prestigious international art school, while conveniently leaving out the fact that he dropped out.

Nonetheless, he used his art school “credentials” to buy himself legitimacy and earn him opportunities in the creative community.

But more than this, despite Kevin’s distinct lack of any creative portfolio of his own, he regularly criticised the work of other artists, musicians and filmmakers. He openly showed disdain for industry titans like Doechii, Jordan Peele and Ryan Coogler, calling their work basic, saying that they lacked depth and nuance.

He ranted about creatives in our local community, calling them talentless and overhyped. Many of these were people who worked with Kevin, who respected him, who attended his events and supported his work. People he would dap up in the street, then immediately bad-talk as soon as he was out of their earshot.

Yet these overhyped, talentless creatives were producing work. Meanwhile, what was Kevin doing? (Spoiler alert: nothing. Kevin was doing nothing.)

Belief that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people; Sense of entitlement

When Kevin was invited by a friend to work on a project for an emerging artist, Vana, he confessed to me that he dreaded being a part of the project. He said he could only work on it if he was inspired by Vana’s work, he could only be inspired if her work was good enough, and he was quite vocal about his belief that she was not, in fact, good enough.

I asked him whether it was worth focusing on the opportunity to add work to his portfolio. He got immediately angry, saying that he would rather have nothing in his portfolio than do mediocre work for a mediocre artist.

He tried to convince his friend to drop Vana’s project, saying that it was a waste of their time. When his friend insisted they continue work on the project, Kevin refused to do his part for weeks and ignored his friend's calls, texts and reminders in an attempt to get Vana to drop them instead.

All the while, Kevin was making inappropriate sexual advances towards her while still being in a relationship with me. Crazy work.

Requires excessive admiration; Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

You wouldn’t think it by looking at him, but Kevin was constantly preoccupied with how others perceived him.

Whenever we went out, he would talk about how people looked (or didn’t look) at him. He constantly had stories about people who didn’t like him or who were jealous of him because of the women he dated or the work he did. If someone didn’t acknowledge him immediately upon entering a space, he would rant about how they ignored him, didn’t like him or were jealous of him.

He genuinely believed that all of the women around him wanted to sleep with him. His exes who no longer spoke to him still wanted him. His long-time family friend who was like his sister wanted to be with him. His social media manager wanted to sleep with him. All of his female friends were attracted to him. Sometimes even random women we passed on the street were looking at him with desire. Everyone wanted a piece of Kevin, apparently.

He told me tales of how previous friends and collaborators stole his ideas. When I asked if he was sure that they weren’t simply inspired by the work he did, as often happens in the creative community, he would become irate.

The worst instance of this was when Kevin received an opportunity to perform with a long-celebrated alternative group. It was an opportunity far beyond anything he had received thus far in his limited career. But when his performance fell short of their expectations and he received some legitimate critique, Kevin lashed out.

He ranted that they were snakes, they were using him, and that they wanted to f*ck him, joking that he shouldn’t take any drinks from them (implying that they would spike his drink). Interesting then that he didn’t turn them down when they gave him another chance. So who was using whom, I wonder?

Is interpersonally exploitative (takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends)

Kevin was open with me about how he was using others to build himself up.

He admitted that he used the members of his rap group for access to equipment and spaces. But when one member of his group challenged his authority, he dropped him without a second thought.

He admitted that he would invite artists and creatives that he didn’t like to play at his events so that they could bring their own followings. He would call them fake, say that they were just riding his coattails, then reach out to them and tell them how much he valued their contribution to the community.

He admitted that he used his social media manager, Ella, for her access and only paid her because she demanded it, but said he didn’t trust her because she was “good in every hood”.

But it was clear to me that Ella considered Kevin a friend. She would check in with him regularly, both to discuss business and personal life. But when Ella was going through a hard time, Kevin would refuse to pick up the phone because he “didn’t want to hear about her problems.”

The thing is, the reason Ella was going through a hard time was because of Kevin’s actions. Kevin’s ex-girlfriend was Ella’s best friend, and after the breakup, Ella got caught in the middle.

Narcissists are excellent at isolating the people around them, and Ella was no different. She had lost mutiple friends because of her alignment with Kevin, yet he refused to take the time to hear her out. He didn’t check in on her, never asked how she was coping with the loss of her friends, never reached out unless she did.

I told Kevin that she needed a friend. He asked: “A friend for what?” But eventually did take the time to speak to her. He later begrudgingly told me that I was right, just before he stood me up in a bar to walk her home.

Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognise or identify with the feelings and needs of others

One day, I was having a particularly hard day. Kevin invited me to talk about my struggles, but I had meetings during the day and asked if we could talk about it later that night. He agreed.

I got back to his place, made dinner, and we ate while watching TV before going out onto his balcony to chill. There, I asked if he was still available to listen to and support me, and he said he was.

I began sharing, realising my existential feelings ran deeper than I thought. I had struggled a lot with my mental health in my 20s, and my mental stability was hard fought and hard won. That day was harder than most.

In the middle of my sharing these struggles, Kevin opened YouTube on his laptop, pulled up a video, turned up the volume, and pressed play. Heavy metal blared out of the laptop speakers, drowning out my voice. I stared at him in disbelief, unable to reconcile what had happened with the person who had invited me so sweetly to talk about my struggles.

I stopped talking and went inside, where I lay staring at the ceiling for what must have been an hour, my mind still spiralling. I couldn’t sleep, so eventually I rose from bed to find Kevin again, knowing that I needed support. But he was nowhere to be found. I texted him, telling him that I was going for a walk and that I would need him to let me back in because I didn’t have a key.

When I returned, Kevin didn’t answer his phone. I could see him on the balcony on his laptop, and I called out to him, but he ignored me. I called Kevin’s phone, messaged him over and over, but received no response. In my time of most need, Kevin literally froze me out.

Later, when I addressed this series of events, Kevin told me that he started playing music because he couldn’t think and that I needed professional help.

I told him that in that moment, I didn’t need my therapist; I needed my partner to listen to me and reassure me. Kevin’s response? “You’re asking the wrong person.”

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because narcissistic abuse doesn’t just happen in romantic relationships, they happen in every relationship.

Because a narcissist in your community is a danger to everyone.

Because a narcissist isn’t your friend, even if you think they are. They will use you for as long as you are useful and discard you as soon as your usefulness to them has been exhausted.

Speaking of discard, tomorrow we’ll talk about the Discard Phase of a narcissistic relationship and later this week we’ll talk about how to become a narcissist’s kryptonite. Stay tuned.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated or do you know a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

Leave a comment

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 4

Coach Tene — Thu, 05 Feb 2026 14:08:07 GMT

Missed the first three parts of this series? Pause and click here to get caught up then come back to read the rest.

I started to suspect Kevin might actually be a narcissist (you know, like he told me) when a small disagreement escalated to such a degree that I had a seizure for the first time in four years.

If I’m honest, I can’t recall what the disagreement was actually about. Nor can I tell you why it became an argument so heated that it activated my previously well-managed epilepsy.

What I do remember, however, is standing in front of Kevin, tears streaming down my face as he shouted cruel things at me and asking him, “Why are you doing this?”

What I do remember is the sound of the closet door crashing to the floor after he slammed it with his head, and the sound of my own small voice saying, “I feel very unsafe right now.”

What I do remember is sitting, frozen, in the darkness for what must have been hours after Kevin’s fit of rage, unable to will my body to move, unable to call out for help.

Meanwhile, Kevin was nowhere to be found.

What I want you to understand is that even when you are deep in this work, even when you’re trained to recognise the signs, realising that a narcissist is manipulating you is a feat.

You see, when a narc begins to devalue you, what they’re really trying to do is confuse you. They want you off-kilter. They want you constantly second-guessing yourself so that you’re never quite sure what’s real and what’s not. That way, it’s easier to get you to believe their version of reality over your own senses, your own experiences, your own intuition.

You might think the solution is to argue with the narcissist, to explain your perspective. But this never works. You might be trying to find common ground, a mutually beneficial solution, or trying to communicate your experience or emotions, but the narcissist is only trying to win.

I’ll give you an example.

One night, while hanging out at a local bar where they were playing hella 90s and early 2000s bops, Kevin mentioned that he missed when Destiny’s Child was a solely R&B group. This sparked a discussion about whether the OG Destiny’s Child was, in fact, solely R&B or whether there were always elements of pop in their music. Kevin thought the former. I disagreed.

The conversation wasn’t that serious, and we were having fun engaging in a playful debate. Or so I thought.

Suddenly, Kevin’s mood turned sour. No longer playful, he stopped speaking and turned away from me, crossing his arms. This was a dramatic shift from moments earlier, when he had his arm around my shoulders, and we were dancing in our seats, laughing, and reminiscing about the music of our childhoods and teenage years.

I asked why his mood shifted, to which he announced that he didn’t have anything to say because “Destiny’s Child is pop because you say so because apparently you’re the authority on what’s pop and what’s R&B.”

I paused. Confused. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“No, well, I have nothing to say,” he continued, beginning to raise his voice, “because you always have to be right and what you say is the truth because you say it.”

“Where is this coming from?” I asked, even more confused than before, “I’m not an authority on anything music, I was just giving my opinion. Weren’t we having a cute little debate?”

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, visibly annoyed, “You’re not the authority on music, so you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So that means I can’t disagree with you?”

“No,” Kevin yelled, “But you like to speak like you know things you don’t.”

Whoa. Pause. Time out.

How did a cute little chat about Destiny’s Child turn into this?

I love a good debate and can admit that I might throw myself into them a little too enthusiastically at times. But I’m not a fan of arguing, especially not in public, so I suggested we pause the conversation or switch topics and revisit it later when we were both calmer.

We sat in silence for several minutes before Kevin announced that he was ready to leave, and we walked back to his place. Where before we walked hand in hand, now Kevin walked off ahead of me, not waiting or looking back to see where I was or if I was following.

The next morning, we began talking about what had happened in the bar. Kevin’s recollection of events was…confusing. Concerning, even.

He told me that he didn’t appreciate that I started an argument about something he knows more about than me, that I’m not smarter than him, that I think he’s stupid, that he’s not dumber than me because he doesn’t have degrees like I do. He repeats that I speak like I know things that I don’t know.

When I countered by saying that I thought we were having a fun debate and that he was the one who got heated, he said “well, of course I got heated, I was upset”.

When I said that I’ve neither said nor thought any of those things about him, he said that it was obvious that that’s how I think of him.

When I asked him to explain how it was obvious, he cut me off and changed the subject, repeating that I speak like I know things I don’t know.

When I suggested we talk about how we could have discussions like that in the future without them escalating to this degree, he said that he would just stop talking about things because I didn’t care about his opinions.

Eventually, I told him that the conversation wasn’t that serious to me and apologised because I didn’t realise it was that serious to him. This seemed to enrage him even further. He told me that I was upsetting him and began to criticise my music tastes. He said that music was his domain and that if I didn’t care about it, then I should shut up.

Do you see the pattern?

Sudden mood change in response to disagreement.
Passive aggression.
Actual aggression.
Silent treatment.
Withholding affection.
Recontextualising the situation (i.e. gaslighting).
Projection.
Repeated insults.
Being blamed for his moods.
No accountability.

I was trying to resolve the situation. Kevin was trying to win. And I was the one who ended up apologising, so he did.

Once Kevin was sufficiently appeased by my apology, his sullen mood disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared. He became affectionate again. He brought me snacks, rolled a joint, hugged me and kissed me. Reset.

This may seem like a silly example, but I’m using it to show you how insidious the devaluation phase can be. For a narcissist, you disagreeing with them on something as small as the genre of Destiny’s Child music can be perceived as a slight against them, for which they will not forgive you.

And let me tell you, Kevin never let go of this. He never let go of anything.

Remember the argument that escalated to the point of me having a seizure? I woke the next morning and wrote in my journal:

I know I should just leave. I don’t know why I haven’t yet. But I know this isn’t right. The way he treated me yesterday was not right. And I cannot continue to do this. Four years worth of progress gone in one fight. I can’t do this. Not for him. Not for anyone.

So why—when I was so certain that this wasn’t right—did I stay?

The answer is because I was holding on to the honeymoon version of Kevin. The one who cared about and for me. The one who made me feel safe and seen and heard. The one who reappeared after the argument was over.

This is what devaluation does. It usually goes on for some time until you’re so well and truly confused that you’re doubting your own experiences and perceptions of events, and of the narcissist themself. Because this couldn’t possibly be the person you fell in love with, right?

So, yes, I stayed, but only for a short time. The problem for Kevin is that I’m stubborn. I trust myself, my intuition and my experiences. And I’m not easily swayed from my point of view by others’ perceptions without evidence (for better or for worse).

Kevin quickly learned that devaluing me would not be as easy as he thought and soon moved on to the Discard Phase.

We’ll get into this phase in the second half of this series, which will be released next week. Thanks for sticking with me thus far. Stay tuned.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated or do you know a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before it’s too late.

Leave a comment

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 3

Coach Tene — Wed, 04 Feb 2026 14:03:35 GMT

If you haven’t read parts 1 and 2 of this series, pause here and go back to read them before coming back to this instalment.

Remember when I told you I started dating Kevin during the holidays when I was on vacation? Right.

Well, the Devaluation Phase started as soon as the holidays ended, and I went back to work because this meant that Kevin was no longer the centre of attention in my world.

Funny thing is, I had told him this at the very start of our relationship. I let him know that the person he was experiencing at the end of December was not the same person I would be in January, because I’d be going back to work and I’m a busy person.

But seeing is believing I guess.

Unlike the holiday honeymoon phase, once January hit, I could no longer be attached to Kevin at the hip. There was no more lounging in bed until 1 pm, or spending our days in the mall or at a cafe, or going out every night until the wee hours of the morning.

I was the busier of the two of us—running a business, actively coaching clients, and when the new year began, I also went back to my regular training regimen, running 3-4 times a week. This meant that Kevin’s requests to hang out became met with “I’ll call you back later, I’m in a meeting,” or “I have clients today from this time to this time, but I can hang after,” or “I can’t go out tonight, I have an early meeting, but I can do tomorrow night” or “you can go ahead without me, I’m feeling tired.”

Independence is a narcissist’s kryptonite.

Independence means that you have other things going on in your life. You have friends, other people whom you speak to, a support system that exists outside of your relationship.

Independence makes you harder to isolate, harder to control. That’s why a narcissist cannot abide independence.

Worse, I decided around the beginning of January to go back to grad school. By contrast, Kevin was doing very little with his life. Already insecure about his lack of achievement compared to mine, this decision seriously bruised Kevin’s fragile and unstable ego.

And he was quickly realising that my world did not and would not revolve around him. This is when the passive-aggressive comments started, when he started trying to take me down a notch. He started saying things like:

“You speak like you know things that you don’t”
“You’re not an authority on anything”
“Do you actually know what that word means?”

Or alternatively:

“You think I’m stupid”
“I’m not smart enough to speak to you”
“Everything I say is dumb”

Notice that not all of these comments were directed at me. Kevin would alternate between putting me down and making me doubt myself, and putting himself down so that I could build him back up and tell him how amazing he was. Fishing for compliments, as it were. He hated it when my response was: “If you say so”, or “I never said that,” instead of fawning over him and saying “No, baby, you’re so smart.”

Around this time, Kevin started picking fights, escalating small miscommunications into full-blown arguments during which he tried to guilt-trip and gaslight me. His mood would shift suddenly from playful and lighthearted to sullen and brooding, from affectionate to defensive, seemingly in the blink of an eye.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse whereby a person or group manipulates one or more people into questioning their sanity and perception of reality.

He would turn my communicating my feelings and needs into personal attacks on him.

If I said “I feel frustrated,” he turned that into “You’re saying I’m frustrating.” If I said “I feel dismissed when you do ___,” he turned that into “You’re saying I’m dismissive and invalidating.” Pretty much any feeling or need I expressed became “You’re saying I’m a bad person.”

One time, he even tried to convince me that I was gaslighting him and trying to make him feel bad because I apologised to him. Make that make sense.

When these tactics didn’t work, Kevin would alternate between going cold and crashing out.

Going cold would sometimes look like creating physical distance between us, walking away abruptly, cutting me off when I tried to speak, or leaving in the middle of a discussion, with no indication of where he was going or how long he would be gone.

Sometimes it was giving me the silent treatment. Sometimes it was refusing to offer any reassurance or comfort. And sometimes it was creating a situation so heightened that I was forced to take a timeout to regulate before continuing, which he would then throw back in my face, saying that I was the one who left.

Crashing out would look like shouting at me, banging his head into doors or his fist into wall, throwing his devices on the floor or across the room with full force, slapping himself in the face, or the coup de gras, collapsing dramatically on the floor.

After the argument, when we (really, I) attempted to repair, Kevin would continue the gaslighting and guilt-tripping. He would recount events completely devoid of context, quote me incorrectly, or straight up tell a completely different version of events.

When I addressed issues directly, he would either change the subject or say that I made him feel unsafe, even though he was the one raging, shouting and punching things. He would say that he was confused by what was happening, and that’s why he reacted the way he did. He would never apologise and would proudly say he would not apologise, even if he had hurt me, if he didn’t understand why I was hurt. He never understood why.

No matter what happened, I was always the one at fault.

This was when I began noticing that Kevin, like most narcissists, seemed incapable of seeing my perspective in any situation. He would often say that my perspectives or feelings didn’t make sense to him. Or, if I spoke about my truth based on my experiences, he would say that there was no such thing as my truth and his truth, only the truth. Funny how the truth was always his version, though.

Kevin also became less and less affectionate during this phase. Where in the Honeymoon Phase, he was constantly hugging me, kissing me, holding my hand, staring into my eyes, or otherwise trying to be close to me, by the end of this stage, he barely even looked at me.

Sound familiar?

Tomorrow, we’ll talk more about the Devaluation Phase, and I’ll share how I finally realised the danger I was in.

And next week, we’ll move on to the last phase of a narcissistic relationship and how to become narcissistic kryptonite.

Stay tuned.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

Leave a comment

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 2

Coach Tene — Tue, 03 Feb 2026 14:09:22 GMT

Welcome back to I Dated a Narcissist So You Don’t Have To. If you haven’t read part one, I highly suggest going back and taking a read before you continue.

For months, Kevin and I built what I thought would blossom into a friendship.

We started seeing each other around more often, hanging out together when we ran into each other at our local watering hole. Having met some cool people at his first event, I started going to more of them when my busy schedule allowed.

This became our status quo for some time. We weren’t quite friends, but we were friendly. Both cat parents, we’d exchange the occasional cat memes or send stickers over chat. Our “hi” and “bye” interactions became sit-down and chats, usually with mutual acquaintances. And I even made it over to his place once or twice, after he asked for my help with a project he was working on.

All very cutesy, all very mindful.

In case you’re new here and wondering what makes me qualified to talk about any of this, I have a background in psychology, gender studies, and demography. I’ve been a behavioural and gender-based violence researcher for about 8 years.

I’m also a certified wellbeing coach who works with high-performing leaders, helping them cope with chronic stress, cultivate resilience and create sustainable relationships. And I’m a soon-to-be PhD student, and I’m already engaged in research for my dissertation exploring masculinity, power dynamics and social connections.

Things changed when, during a two-month stint overseas, I ended my relationship with my ex-partner. I returned home to learn that Kevin had also ended his relationship. It seemed serendipitous, even though I wasn’t exactly looking for anything new.

Still, both now single and ready to mingle, we started spending more time together, and things progressed quickly. We went from hanging out to our first kiss, to sleeping together, to a full-blown relationship within a few weeks.

Normally, I’d be concerned about moving this quickly, but it felt like we’d been orbiting this particular sun for some time, so I dismissed the thought. Plus, we were approaching the holidays, and I didn’t mind having some fun. The best way to get over one is to get under another, as they say. (Please don’t do this, it’s terrible advice.)

In true narcissist form, at the start of the relationship, Kevin was incredibly sweet. The epitome of a doting, devoted lover.

He showered me with praise, telling me how amazing, intelligent and beautiful I am every chance he could get. Having realised that I would often forget to eat (thanks, ADHD), he would make sure I was fed, carrying me out to eat almost every day, buying me expensive coffee, treats and gifts. Red flag.

Enamoured by me, Kevin would speak often about how much he loved my energy, my exuberance, and the way I moved through life with rampant, almost-delusional optimism and a whole-hearted belief that things would work out for me. He would tell me that I had to “Tene the scene”, a phrase he coined to describe how I would manifest pretty much anything I wanted just by the way I showed up in the world.

We stormed a party together. We walked hand in hand everywhere. He bought me clothes, shoes, event tickets… Anything I wanted, I got it.

We seemed to have a lot in common, too. We had conversations upfront about our goals, our values and what we wanted from our lives. He had no problem communicating and would speak openly about his emotions in a way that sounded grounded, self-aware, and even emotionally intelligent.

Kevin said he wanted marriage, children, someone he could build and grow with. He talked frequently about what potential futures for us would look like even though we’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks. Red flag.

We spent a lot of time together. A lot. Mostly because we lived in the same gated community. But also because I was on vacation for the holidays. (Remember this, it’s important.)

Soon, he started calling me his wife and himself my husband. Big red flag.

He asked about what kind of gemstones I liked and what type of ring I wanted. Huge, massive, waving red flag.

During this period, people started coming to me to warn me about Kevin—specifically, his exes and a couple of mutual acquaintances—but I ignored their warnings. Why? Well, because to be quite honest, their warnings kinda sucked. No offence.

One ex cursed me out in the DMs, then started stalking me. Another began blowing up my phone with manic-sounding texts. A couple of well-meaning souls in the community crossed several personal and professional boundaries to deliver their warning, which was nothing more than a vague “I don’t think he’s right for you”.

Kevin always had a good reason for why these people would behave this way and say these things about him. The exes were obsessed with him. The people in the community didn’t like him because they were jealous of him. In fact, they were the bad people because of how they treated women, not him.

Pro tip y’all: if you’re warning someone about someone who you think might be a narcissist, you need to deliver your warning in a grounded, direct and specific way. A narc is excellent at discrediting other people, so you need to be explicit, give examples, have evidence and above all, stay calm.

I won’t lie, it was hard to stay grounded during this phase of the relationship, this whirlwind romance, even as someone trained to see these kinds of patterns. The way a narcissist behaves during the honeymoon phase is designed to lull you into a false sense of security, to get you to trust them and to lower your guard.

It felt good to be chosen in this way, especially after the emotionally-avoidant ex I’d just escaped. To be with someone who seemed sure of what he wanted and what he wanted was me.

I felt special. I felt seen. I felt safe.

I felt like a prayer was finally being answered.

It made it easy to ignore the small voice at the back of my head that asked: Are you moving too fast? Yes. Is he love-bombing and future-faking? Yes. Is this too good to be true? 100% yes.

But the honeymoon phase never lasts. Before long, it gives way to the next phase of a narcissistic relationship: the devaluation phase.

We’ll get into that tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

Leave a comment

P.S. I want to take a moment to say thank you to those well-meaning souls who reached out to warn me about Kevin. Even though the delivery left a lot to be desired, I recognise and appreciate the intent. And to Kevin’s exes who are still trapped in his web, I hope that if or when you read this series, you see through the smoke screen of his lies and manipulations and begin to heal. I have much love for all of you.

I Dated a Narcissist So You Don't Have To: Part 1

Coach Tene — Mon, 02 Feb 2026 14:08:35 GMT

I spent the last two months dating a narcissist.

Not intentionally. I don’t think anyone dates a narc on purpose. But pretty soon, the signs started showing up.

I’m using the term “narcissist” somewhat loosely because I don’t know whether this person has been diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). Still, he did tell me that his own mother suspected that he’s a narc, so his words, not mine.

Before we begin, a few disclaimers:

Obviously, any names and identifying information used in this series have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.
What you will read in this series is the very real and very vulnerable account of events from my personal experience in a narcissistic relationship. If you have been a victim of narcissistic abuse, some of these accounts may be triggering to read.
This series is for informational and educational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional mental health advice. Please consult your therapist or counsellor before taking any action based on the information in this series.

I’m also a certified wellbeing coach who works with high-performing leaders, helping them cope with chronic stress, cultivate resilience and create sustainable relationships. And I’m a soon-to-be PhD student, and I’m already engaged in research for my dissertation exploring masculinity, power dynamics and social connections.

Anyway, back to the narcissist. Let’s call him Kevin.

I first met Kevin at an event a few months after I’d sold all my possessions and moved halfway across the country.

He seemed like a cool guy. Tall, dark and a strange kind of handsome, but handsome nonetheless. I was… intrigued. I had seen him around here and there, but this was the first time I’d seen him up close. I observed him move with an easy swagger between the stage, where he was performing, and the small crowd, where he stopped to chat with attendees here and there.

He moved with an air of authority that people seemed to respond to and gravitate towards. We had some brief conversation that night. Nothing deep, just recognising each other’s presence in the community ether. He told me the event was his. I congratulated him. He asked how I liked it. I told him. Stuff like that.

At the time, that was all it was. I was more interested in meeting new people and finding a community in a new city than anything else. Plus, I was in a relationship back then, so the thought of anything more never crossed my mind.

But narcissists are extremely patient at first. They can smell potential supply like a vampire can smell blood. And when they set their sights on you, it’s only a matter of time.

In the DSM-5, someone with NPD is defined as a person with a “persistent pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and lack of empathy”.

What the DSM doesn’t tell you is that grandiosity, arrogance, and a sense of entitlement can look like intoxicating self-confidence or a commitment to the path less trodden.

That an exaggerated, unfounded sense of importance can look like persistent worry or paranoia that people are looking at them, judging them or even that they make others uncomfortable.

That a narc’s belief that they are special and unique and should only associate with people of the highest calibre can look like excellence, perfectionism, and dedication to their craft.

That their need to be unconditionally admired can look like charisma, being a social butterfly, or serial monogamy.

That envy of others or a belief that others envy them can look like them competing with you, or like past trauma from a toxic relationship.

Or that a lack of empathy can look like self-loathing.

The DSM-5 doesn’t tell you that when you have a narcissist in your life, you might find yourself feeling exhausted and drained, dreading interacting with them or leaving every interaction confused about what happened, that you’re less productive the more time you spend with them, or that your glow slowly dims over time.

It doesn’t tell you how to recognise when someone is weaponising guilt vs being accountable. Or when self-blame is actually criticism in disguise. Or how to tell when they’re selling a good story.

In this series, I’ll use my experience dating Kevin to break down the signs and symptoms that someone in your life—whether a friend, colleague, romantic partner, parent, or client—might be a narcissist.

Why am I doing this?

The truth is, I didn’t intend to write this series. I didn’t intend to write anything about Kevin at all. And I have no intention of this being a hit piece. But there are people like Kevin walking around doing real harm to others and to our communities, and I’m fucking tired of it.

I’m writing this because it’s hard to spot a narc. After all, they’re usually really good at convincing you they’re a good person.

I’m writing this because we’re officially in Valentine’s season, aka the season of love and love-bombing, aka the time of the year when abusers put on their best “good person” masks.

I’m writing this because narcs benefit from the silence of their victims. And because I refuse to be silent about harm and abuse.

I know that I will probably be the villain in Kevin’s story—that by writing this, I’m putting a target on my back—and I’m okay with that if it means that this series helps even just one person avoid narcissistic abuse or leave a narcissistic relationship.

This series isn’t for me. It’s for you. It’s for victims of narcissistic abuse. It’s for the healers, the empaths, the autistic girlies who are easy prey for a narc. It’s for those who could not advocate for themselves. It’s for all the people who have had their realities so twisted by a narc that they now have to spend years untangling the knots of that trauma.

Tomorrow, we’ll dive into the first phase of narcissistic relationships: the Idealisation or Honeymoon Phase.

Later on in this series, we’ll break down the DSM-5 definition of narcissism in detail and how to become narcissistic kryptonite.

Stay tuned for the next Red Flags Digest 🚩, and remember to share with a friend who might need it.

Your Coach,
Tene

Have you dated a narcissist? Tell us more about what you experienced. Sharing not only helps you heal, it also helps others see the red flags before its too late.

Leave a comment