Between Assault 1 and Assault 2

Between Assault 1 and Assault 2

The First Assault Reading Between Assault 1 and Assault 2 8 minutes Next The Smear Campaign and the Flying Monkeys

My narcissist’s promise to quit drinking lasted about as long as a 12-pack of toilet paper -- three weeks. On Tuesday night, once more, he wanted to go out with his coworker as was their custom. He asked if he could have ‘one drink.’ I remember how surreal it felt that -- just a few weeks after being arrested for assaulting me and injuring me badly-- he wanted to ‘have one drink.’  Had he not learned his lesson? The event was traumatic to me, but he hardly seemed bothered by his arrest, my head injury, or the social stigma associated with the ordeal. I got very upset and stood my ground – “Absolutely not.” After giving me a bit of a guilt trip about micromanaging him and trying to claim that I ‘did not want him to have friends’ (a tactic he had long used when I didn’t want him to go on a drinking binge and then drive home often with his kids in the car), he suggested nonalcoholic beer. To me, that seemed like a reasonable request, so I agreed, not knowing anything about alcoholism and nonalcoholic beer, which I now know can be a trigger and does have alcohol in it. I didn’t want to keep him from spending time with his friend and coworker, and I didn't want to control him. We agreed that he could have two nonalcoholic beers.

He went out that night and came back smelling of alcohol and acting strange. I was outraged. I immediately called him out on his drinking and breaking his promises – I even threatened to leave him. Rather than admitting to his wrongdoing, he got extremely mad at me and swore up and down that he only had nonalcoholic beer at a local Mexican restaurant. He told me that he was profoundly disappointed in me. How could I question him? His anger coupled with his willingness to take me to task for a wrongful accusation was very convincing. It was only recently that I realized how convincing narcissists can be even when they are straight up lying (normal people would never be so bold as to act this way when caught in a lie). In fact, he was so convincing that I ended up apologizing to him for doubting his word. He did not forgive me right away and, instead, gave me the silent treatment for a few days.

Over the next several days, I felt tremendous guilt and shame. My narcissist would not speak to me because I had wronged him. How could I question my partner? What was wrong with me? Why was I so suspicious? How could I be so wildly wrong and think that he was drinking when he was not? The feelings of shame and embarrassment weighed heavily on my heart. Still, in the back of my mind, I could not help but feel that he had been drinking. Finally, I could take it no longer. I called the restaurant he said he was at to put my mind at peace, only to learn that they did not serve nonalcoholic beer. A whole new range of emotions came over me as it slowly sunk in that, not only had he gone to great lengths to lie to me about drinking, he then punished me with “the silent treatment” and guilt tripped me for days. That night, I approached him with the information that I had learned and threatened, once more, to leave him. Knowing that he could not lie his way out of it, he fell to his knees lamenting his alcoholism and begging me to help him overcome it, knowing I would because I am an empath.

I was still in love with my narcissist and desperately wanted to make our newly blended family work. I loved my step-kids and wanted to be a part of their lives. So instead of standing my ground and sending him packing, I hugged him and told him that I understood and would help him – after all, isn’t that what people who love each other do? Over the next several months, he would fall off the wagon time and again and, each time, I would be there to comfort him and help him get back on it. We attended couples counseling almost every week to deal with his abuse and alcoholism. I was hopeful that he was getting better and that we could be a happy family.

One Friday evening, we were invited to a dear friend’s party, but it was not kid-friendly. I was going to decline the invite since we had his kids that weekend, but my narcissist, oddly, offered to take the kids to the soccer field so that I could enjoy the party for an hour or two (in hindsight, I should have known right then and there something was awry since he never offered to let me have time with my friends). Truth be told, I was always afraid to leave the kids with him because of his problems with alcohol, but together we made a detailed plan of where he would be, and he promised me that no alcohol would be involved. I watched as he had the kids pack the soccer balls into the car. I remember saying “have fun at the soccer field kids,” and his older son looked at me with a weird face. It seemed odd, but I shrugged and let it go.

An hour into my party, I texted my narcissist to check up on the kids. He was aloof and would not answer my questions.

Ekho - “Which field did you end up going to?”

Narcissus -“We haven’t decided that yet?”

Ekho - “Are you going to get something to eat?”

Narcissus - “We are still working out the details.”

Ekho - “Well where are you.”

Narcissus - ……

Knowing that something was off, I excused myself from the table and called my narcissist, only to learn that he never had any intention of going to the soccer field (hence the reason for his oldest son’s strange look) but, instead, had taken the kids to the local brewery to hang out with his two best friends, Amara and Gasper, (who later became flying monkeys).

I remember jumping in my car without even saying goodbye to my friends and racing with a pounding heart to the brewery to get the kids. When I got there, Amara and Gasper looked at me like I was some type of monster for not allowing my narcissist to have a few drinks, not knowing or caring about his problems with alcohol. I took the kids home, scolding myself for letting them alone with him and reconfirming my strong stance of never letting my kids alone with him. (For reference, he left his kids alone with me, often overnight, during our entire relationship and as recently as the weekend before the second assault). When we got the kids home safely, I told him that I was thinking about calling the cops on him. He was drunk and, instead of recognizing what he did wrong, he tried to tell his kids “Ekho went crazy and is threatening to call the cops on us, we are not safe.” That night he huddled in a bedroom with them, pretending like I was the threat, which was one of his tactics - to push the narrative that my reasonable reaction to his dangerous behavior was somehow erratic and over the top. 

There are many, many more similar stories I can share about this period of our lives, but these two highlight the type of person he is well enough. In a last-ditch effort to save our relationship, we got married in May 2022. I knew it was a bad idea, and I was right – the marriage lasted five months.


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