I’ve been an idiot to the players, the womanizer, and the narcissists. I couldn’t get enough of their charm, swagger, and self-confidence. When I was Don Draper’s modern-day love interest, I felt smarter, funnier, and more attractive. I didn’t know that kind of attention was so devastating.
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I had to learn the painful way that no matter how great these types of men are, and how great they are to be around, they will eventually break your heart and kill your soul.
They can’t help them, this is what they are forced to do. They are born liars and cheaters. The saddest thing of all is that they lack empathy which makes it easy for them to hurt others in the process of getting what they want. What they want is to feel better about their emotionless lives without having to change at all.
Whatever you want to call them, the differences are small; A narcissist is not necessarily a player or a womanizer, but womanizers and players are almost always narcissists. Both male and female players have sex with a lot of women – only the player doesn’t pretend to be monogamous.
He is proud that he is not leading anyone on, yet he still feels the need to lie. They’re all messing with your head even if they’re not messing with your body, and none of them will take responsibility for their actions.
Don’t hate the player, the womanizer, or the narcissist. I hate how scary and good they are at their game.
My first experience with a player was when I was in sixth grade. Mark, the womanizer of our class (or “girlboy” since we were still pre-teens) finally set his sights on the graduation dance held on our school playground. This was after all the other girls in our class had passed.
I’d liked him forever but I didn’t want to be just a number on his friend list, even if he wrote it down with a No. 2 pencil. Dancing on the asphalt in the glare of the afternoon sun was weird enough, but when Mark confessed that he loved me more, I panicked and ran away from him as quickly as possible.
If at that time I would have placed a restraining order on myself, forcing me to stay 100 yards away from any losing user.
I would have saved myself a lot of pain and frustration. But no, it will take me years to finally be able to play.
In high school, I almost slept with an older neighbor, who ended up being a predator. When he shared pictures of all the underage girls he was with, I naturally felt scared. I didn’t want to be on his long list of conquests, nor did I want to be a victim of statutory rape. I didn’t know much, but I could tell that not only was he a womanizer, but he was also a narcissist and a sociopath as well.
You’d think I’d keep running in the opposite direction of all the players/womanizers/narcissists, but no. My first sexual encounter was with a notorious actor and man. After the deed, he went into a detailed account of every woman he slept with. Not a nice way to spend a night I’ll never forget.
A few years later, while still in college, I was friends with another major player. I didn’t sleep with him, I was just watching him use it – students, faculty, visiting theater professionals – and anyone who could help with his career. He trusted me which made me feel like I was an accomplice in his suspicious behaviour. Not only did I know where he hid the bodies, I handed him the shovel.
I thought I had learned my lesson and was more careful, looking for all the signs of a womanizer before getting involved with another womanizer. Then I met the man who would hurt me the most.
Did he have a reputation for using women? No. Did he move quickly? Well, sort of, but that was just because when you know it, you know it, and we both know it.
Was it too romantic? Yes, but this was more than acceptable to me. Did it sound too good to be true? Sure, but sometimes you have to take a chance on love. I didn’t realize that one of his greatest skills was his ability to lie and pretend to be the person any woman wanted him to be.
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I’ll spare you the gory details, but like many other women, I thought I had met a wonderful, handsome man who seemed to return my affection. We hadn’t been together long when he dumped me. After the breakup, I discovered that he had been sleeping with hundreds of women (yeah, I’m not exaggerating the shock value). He used me to feel better about himself. Once he did that, he didn’t need me anymore.
The worst part is that I ignored some very obvious evidence. I caught him lying but I managed to convince myself that everyone lies sometimes. When he confused me with someone else, I thought he had memory problems, which was not the case. He couldn’t keep track of all the women he was dating. We had no real relationship, he just enjoyed my affirmation of his supposed greatness.
If you’ve been following along, you’ve been involved with a jock in grade school, an old predator/womanizer/sociopath, a womanizer/narcissist, another womanizer/narcissist, and finally a womanizer/pathological narcissist. Can I choose them or what?
How did I end the cycle of exploitation, exploitation, and emotional abuse?
I focused all the love and infatuation I had for users on myself. Men, like the ones I’ve dated, tend to prey on people with shaky self-images and those who feel lonely or vulnerable. I got in touch with my true self and learned to love who I was inside and out. I never asked anyone else to make me feel special. I made my needs a priority and looked for a partner who would respect them.
No one can play with you if you refuse to play with them.
