I talked recently about my feelings going into to future relationships. I know that, as a psychopath, I will remain predatory and that the fate that is best for any potential paramour involves them staying far away. However, I’ve been wondering about my motivations for even seeking a relationship. The truth is, no one is interesting or otherwise worth my time. My supreme narcissism and self-centeredness has left me viewing others as mere slabs of meat – slabs of meat that can be devoured but with as little invested interest as one would squash a fly. Most of the time, I am indifferent to others around me. The exception is when I am hostile toward others. Some would call these symptoms of an attachment disorder, though the name concerns me not. All I know is that I am surrounded by those that I cannot care about. They aren’t worth my time; no one is.
I’ve decided to start looking for a paramour again. It’s been a few years since my marriage ended and I feel that I have enough knowledge about my inner workings to where another shot may not be immediately doomed or sabotaged. I know not to set my expectations high, as a lot of the richness of relationships are lost on my stoic, psychopathic state. There is still a nagging feeling though, born out of self-preservation, that I will find some creative way to ruin any potential relationship. My narcissism and parasitism are not going to disappear, for instance, and these traits in particular can poison any interpersonal relationship, romantic or otherwise. In many ways, I am a self-aware predator, knowing what I am capable of and what I will probably do, but hoping that restraint and heightened self-awareness can head off mortal injury to my interpersonal relationships moving forward.
It is true that I struggle with Bipolar Disorder, but some depression can be separated out into that purely environmental in nature. I wake to sleep and I live to march toward my unmarked grave. It is not lost on me that I am an abrasive and destructive individual and that my prospects for any meaningful relationship are slim. I may have once been married, but it failed miserably due to the mismatch of expectations held by both parties. Now that I know my inner workings and that I am honest, I know the challenge that faces me. Unwilling to learn how to fake what I cannot feel, I realize that the types of relationships that would work for both myself and another are slim. It is a damning realization.
Relationships have been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve been torn between seeking a more traditional relationship where there are expectations of love, emotional bonding, and care and those relationships that I’d be more likely to succeed with. I’ve listed what is needed for the former. However, I have begun to think of the latter as something a bit beyond my analogy of potted plants, although not by much. The relationship that I am most likely to succeed in involves mutual indifference yet a commitment by the other to “buy in” in order to work.
These are strange times. The young woman, that I mentioned in this post, and I have hit it off well enough and I find that I am, as a result, stuck in limbo. My ennui is at fever pitch. She is neurotypical and demands my good behavior, which is not an unreasonable request. However, I ache. I don’t want to be impotent for the duration of this relationship. I want to maintain the ability to be callous and cunning, manipulative and powerful, but I recognize that my sins are a burden to her. Not that I want to make her a target of such behaviors, but I don’t believe that I want to be strictly prosocial in all areas. I preach restraint, but in reality, I’m advocating relative restraint for the psychopath. We still have that niche that we fill and there are still behaviors that are strictly adaptive in a world of prosocials. Giving that advantage up entirely is madness.