Okay, so there are problems other than narcissism…

This may seem to be a little off topic, but just when I thought I was too old to get totally fooled by someone anymore it happened again. Sometimes I just have to laugh at myself for being so wrong. I wonder if I have my radar so focused on spotting narcissistic people that it caused me to completely miss the signs of a martyr/victim type. This all happened last December through March so it’s a long story.

When I first started emailing with Samuel we found a common ground on having had bad things happen to each of us in our pasts. He could understand when I talked about a narcissistic mother because he had had a narcissistic grandmother. He had been through a brutal divorce and I had lost my only child. There was a lot of pain and loss we could discuss with each other when most people simply couldn’t understand, so we exchanged a lot of stories over the course of four months.

I should note that he went by Samuel — not Sam, not Sammy, just Samuel.

He came into town at Christmas and again in February so we got together for dinner each time and on meeting him I thought  he seemed okay.

Another thing we had in common was the desire to travel. We both did long distance motorcycle trips and had hopes of finding someone who would like to do international travel as well, so we started talking about a trip to Spain. Spain was his idea and not high on my list and I should mention that he never asked what countries I would like to see first. I later found out later he had hijacked the Spain idea from a co-worker.

We decided to do a test trip to find out if we were compatible traveling companions so I booked a flight at the end of March to Steamboat Springs where he was living and we would then take his four wheel drive Jeep to Utah to check out the national parks there. To make the most of spending money on airfare I planned my return flight two weeks later.

Warning flags

Okay — so there were red flags before I even got on the plane to go visit him. He was talking about too many plans with me — a trip to Spain, more than one summer motorcycle trip, me coming down with my dogs to stay with him at his cabin in the Texas hill country, and then me coming, again with the dogs, up to Colorado to stay at his place for a month or two and possibly help with his job. He had already talked to his boss about me working for the company and I was to meet the boss while in Steamboat.

A bit over the top for someone he barely knew, but I suspect I was somewhat flattered by the interest and enthusiasm even though I found it somewhat inappropriate. Before leaving he was also talking about buying things for me when I arrived and I ignored the comments since I felt I should buy my own stuff. I would find out inappropriate defined his approach to people.

His emails tended toward somber and serious but would be interspersed with fun, even silly stuff, so I thought he had a sense of humor and it would be a fun trip.

Goodbye quiet solitude

I arrived in Steamboat Springs and found a person who wanted to be joined at the hip every moment and never stop talking. If he had nothing fresh to say he would repeat something he had already told me three or four times word for word. He was constantly trying to sell me on the wonders of life in Steamboat Springs. Most of his talking did not consist of conversation, but long winded soliloquies and pontifications. He was the type of person who started when dinosaurs roamed the earth and had to tell every living last detail of what happened between then and now. Groan.

I don’t know what happened to the fun person in emails because he was dark and gloomy and I was talked to death and bored.

As someone who spends a lot of time alone, it wasn’t just a bit much, it struck me as a bit needy and clingy for my tastes. I’m fairly independent and self-sufficient so I prefer to hang out with people who are similar — needy men aren’t comfortable for me. Don’t get me wrong — I have my needy moments like everyone else but it’s not my day to day mode of operation.

It wasn’t just the neediness that was alarming. His apparent joylessness spread over everything like a suffocating blanket. He was the type who was going to be happy at some point in the future, but not able to be happy in the moment. For someone who fills her life with joy as much as possible, his was an oppressive personality for me to be around.

I needed to not be talked at so much, but how do you tell someone that?

In the land of inappropriateness

We got to his apartment and he carried my things into his bedroom. I carried them back out. I have a rule when visiting: I never kick people out of their own bed just on principle, but I also believe as a small person I easily sleep on the floor or couch or anywhere. He was determined for me to be in his bedroom and I had absolutely no wish to be in this man’s bed. The idea sort of grossed me out. Battle number one was on.

We headed out to stores to find hiking boots for my problematic wide feet. I found two pairs that were potentially a good fit. I bought the more reasonable of the two and he bought the other pair. When I completely disagreed with him buying me a pair of boots it ended up a bartering exchange with the acceptance of the boots if he agreed to my sleeping on the couch. I now had snow boots and two pairs of hiking boots and felt the whole situation had wandered into the area of wretched excess.

I have a problem accepting things from people — help, stuff, anything. I know this about me and I suspect I put people off at times by not accepting things. I decided it was time for me to try taking things for a change — within reason.

It turned into inappropriate giving and spending all over the place. He had recently gotten on iPhone and insisted on giving me his old Android. He had an expensive knife he didn’t use and insisted I take it. He thought one particular brand of hiking sock was far better than others and insisted on buying a couple pair for me. It all left me wondering why he would be doing it.

In many emails he had extolled his virtues as a Southern gentleman and that he didn’t let woman pay for meals so I was expecting that to be a battle. I had no idea the inappropriate buying and giving would extend to all areas. Another uncomfortable situation for someone who prefers to carry her own weight in all senses of the term.

Too much information

Late that evening we went out for dinner and he proceeded to fill me in on the details of his marriage and divorce. The stage needs to be set for this story; this man is six feet five inches tall and had been nationally famous in his previous career. He began to tell tales of how he was terrorized and abused by his five foot two inch wife for over twenty years. A picture I was having a hard time bringing into focus based on the size disparity alone. I do believe women can abuse men, but how could a guy this big be mowed into the ground by someone smaller than me?

I already knew from emails that his daughter had not spoken to him for a few years — he claimed his ex-wife had poisoned her against him. He spoke to his son on rare occasion. It all made me wonder.

Then he went on to tell me the ex-wife tried to kill him on more than one occasion, yet he stayed. One story involved a time when he was very sick and she made him get up to talk to her. Really? If that’s the case then I have had several men try to kill me in the course of my life when they had no apparent concern for my being sick. Just kidding — it’s a matter of boundaries, not murder.

He gave me the details of another incident where she had a hand gun out threatening him when he got home from work and then ran up the stairs with it to where the children were sleeping. He chased her up the stairs, tackled her, and punched her unconscious and took the gun.

This particular story disturbed me in so many ways I don’t know where to start and was probably the beginning of the end of any chance of friendship for us. The incident happened less than half way through his twenty-four year marriage in which he had “stayed for the kids”. There are certain deal breakers in life and being threatened with a gun is high up on that list. Threatening my children would be firmly at the top of the list. I wouldn’t stay with someone who threatened me and if stupid enough to hang in through that I would be out the door with the children in a heartbeat if they had been threatened.

Since he stayed it left me with two conclusions; either the story was a bunch of melodrama that perhaps he and his ex might have thrived on or he was one of the most stupid people I have ever spoken to. Neither option was good.

The need for a man who was fifteen inches taller than his wife and probably double her weight to “punch her unconscious” was also disturbing. I have a friend who is almost as big as this guy and when he disagrees with what I’m doing he simply picks me up and moves me. Restraining me is no challenge — why would it be necessary to punch someone much smaller?

His take on the event was that she tried to kill him and then tried to kill his kids yet no police were called for either the attempt or the punching. And he stayed over ten years longer in the marriage.

He said he went to a lot of counselors both religious and non-religious and couldn’t get any sympathy from any of them — no one believed him. As someone who has seen counselors for years trying to heal up the damage from my childhood I would have to ask why; what was wrong with his story that no one was buying it? No one ever doubted what I said.

When he finally did leave his wife he left with nothing. After twenty-five years in a successful career he walked out with his clothes and gave his wife the house and all the money. He said he did it because it was the only way she would leave him alone. I personally never would have done it if for no other reason than it communicated guilt to the children. It was another story that just didn’t ring true.

He ended the dinner with “I can’t believe I told you all that.” I wanted to tell him I felt exactly the same way.

Apparently sharing all that information opened the door for him to frequently mention how his ex-wife had ruined his life. Add complaining and blaming regarding a lifetime of injustices to the endless talking. He also spiced things up with numerous stories of women who had stalked him — all of which I found I tad hard to believe.

Slippery slope

Despite my protestations he insisted we go snowmobiling the next day. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that snowmobiling was something I did not want to do. My apologies to avid snowmobilers but my idea of enjoying the beauty of snow involves quiet, not constant engine noise so I would have preferred snow shoeing or cross country skiing — quiet, exercise, and ability to take in the sights.

He wouldn’t listen to my polite suggestions and kept telling me I would like it so I allowed him the honor of paying for that too.

Following in a row of twelve snowmobiles with a lot of noise, two-stroke fumes that immediately made me feel like I was going to vomit, having to follow the person in front closely so there was little opportunity to see the view while watching the back of the snowmobile, being part of a herd. I didn’t just dislike it, I hated it for the entire two hours.

I was worrying what to say when asked how I liked it and it turned out to be a needless worry. He didn’t ask then or at any other time during the trip if I actually liked anything. The total lack of feedback was almost bizarre and completely unlike what I have experienced with other friends. There was no “You doing okay?” or “You having fun?” just to check in with each other. After a while I no longer cared if he was doing okay or having fun.

That night when we met co-workers who asked about the snowmobiling he told them how wonderful it had been. I politely kept quiet.

Things seemed to be in a continual downhill slide. We were about to head off to southern Utah to check out the national parks and I was questioning how I was going to do trapped in a car for hours with no respite.

That morning we ran into one of his co-workers at breakfast. When he referred to Samuel as “pious Sam” I almost spit my coffee out because the guy had pegged him so perfectly.

I arrived in Moab later that day pretty much talked to death. I don’t know what his expectations had been, and I usually share rooms to save money even when traveling with male friends, but I went into the motel office and made sure the first thing said was “We need two rooms.” I could tell this caught him off guard and that it did not make him happy. I didn’t care — I desperately needed some quiet alone time. I unloaded my stuff, asked what time I should be ready in the morning, and closed my door for the night. Peace at last. I tried to get prepared for another non-stop barrage of talking the next day.

I have been very spoiled in my travels in that I have been able to see incredibly beautiful places with very few people around. That could not be said of Moab during spring break. The parks were full and trying to get down any trails meant battling crowds with lots of kids. The conditions were overcast to completely cloudy so picture taking was no good. We were going to places Samuel had been to several times before. There was so much to see in Utah I couldn’t understand why we were sticking with places that were repeats for him and crowded — why not go to less crowded areas he hadn’t seen before?

Add to being talked to death that I was disappointed with the conditions. I was on the fourth day of a fifteen day trip and already longing for home. I love to travel and am usually sad to return, so my wistful thoughts of the peace and quiet of home surprised the hell out of me.

Meals were especially painful since they took forever as he talked non-stop. I couldn’t get a word in so I would be completely finished with my meal and still listening as he continued to talk. Finally he would come up for air and stuff his food down.

Meal payment was becoming a problem in a way I had not anticipated. If I let him pay he wasn’t happy. If I paid he’d give me cash with a pouting look on his face. I wasn’t sure what to do. Normally I take turns paying when traveling with friends and it had always worked out well in the past.

I was also starting to feel like he was with a chameleon. He ordered what I ordered, said he liked what I liked, said he didn’t like what I didn’t like, said he wanted to do what I wanted even if it contradicted something he had said before. This was offset by his total unwillingness to plan where we would go. He had already decided and I basically had no say in the agenda for the day.

My travel over the last few years had taught me something about myself — I prefer green. While I see the beauty of desert and barren mountains they don’t make me happy. Put me someplace lush, green, and mountainous and I have a happy heart. Utah is gorgeous, but it’s an awful lot of vantage point after vantage point of rock. A lot of rock. My heart was not singing.

The next day we took off for Monument Valley — again someplace he’d been before and more rock. As we’re headed south on Utah 191 he said we’d grab motel rooms in Mexican Hat. We were going to get there before 11:00 AM so I pointed that out and asked why we’d want to stop so early. My question didn’t make him happy.

Monument Valley was beautiful and we had escaped the clouds and spent the day in sunny conditions.

After several hours in Monument Valley we finally departed what was familiar territory for Samuel and headed north into Glen Canyon Recreation Area along winding roads that made me long to be on my motorcycle. He had agreed to move on instead of getting a motel in mid-afternoon.

I was tiring of his constant declarations about the scenery. “Oh my god, it’s so beautiful!” “I love this!” “It’s so gorgeous!” I did okay with the first thousand times, but I wasn’t accustomed to men who oohed and ahhed over every fraction of highway. The more troubling part was it didn’t seem genuine — if felt like he was acting the way he thought he should rather than the way he really felt. It seemed phony.

Getting a little scary

It became an issue for him to say he was up earlier than I was. If I said I got up at six he was up at five-thirty, if I was up at five-thirty then he was up at five. I couldn’t have cared less when he got up until he declared angrily “I’m up earlier than you every day.”

I became suspicious and asked “How the heck would you know?”

He was like a deer caught in headlights. I realized the reason he said it with such certainty was that he was watching me. He knew I knew it. It was creepy. I went into my room not caring when he went to bed and when he got up. Apparently my habits were of more interest. Creepy.

The next couple days were a whirlwind of parks where we would stop at the visitor center and not really explore the park before driving off to the next one.

We both had started out wanting to take pictures and both knew the best light was early morning or late afternoon and not one time did he want to get going early for morning light or stay out late for evening light. Another thing that didn’t make sense.

Things turned bad in Bryce Canyon. We left the visitor center at 4:30 and he said we’d go get a motel. I asked why and his demeanor completely changed. He replied petulantly “You wanted to get a room early in Arches.”

That was true after a boring day with constant talk from him, but now I wanted to finish up the trip and go home. I didn’t share those thoughts with him. Instead I said “We still have three hours of daylight left and it’s only a few miles into the park.”

He blurted out “We’re already in Bryce and it’s Monday” and became even more unh