Australian psychologists, equip yourselves to identify the insidious patterns of narcissistic partnerships.
"He was all I ever wanted. Until he wasn't."
The myth of Narcissus seduces us with an image —
a beautiful young man, lost in adoration of his reflection.
Romantic. Tragic. Tender.
But that is a dangerous lie.
There is nothing romantic about a relationship with a Narcissist.
That blissful beginning — the spark, the synchronicity, the soulmate story — wasn’t love. It was grooming.
Your Narcissist doesn’t fall for you. He folds himself into you. He makes himself indispensable. Irresistible. He’s not mirroring your magic — he’s absorbing it, rehearsing it, using it.
All to get under your skin — and into your soul.
So he can suck the life out of you.
"He felt like the better version of me. Like I’d finally found someone on my level. I didn’t know I was being trained to submit."
You don’t spot the danger — because it feels divine.
The red flags are not screaming alarms. They’re euphoric thoughts:
He’s everything I ever wanted.
He’s like a God — powerful, focused, unstoppable.
We’re the same, only… he’s more.
That’s not love. That’s distortion.
And when the grooming ends, you see what he’s really consistent about: himself.
Everything you’re given — the compliments, the support, the sex — serves him.
The dress? For his pleasure.
The support? For his image.
The sex? For his ego.
"He flipped me over like a piece of meat. Then told me he felt like he had been raped. Then left because he ‘didn’t get enough sex’."
This isn’t intimacy. It’s objectification with a storyline.
You feel the abuse. But you explain it away — because you’ve been trained to.
Maybe if I gave in to anal, he’d love me again.
Maybe I’m just not being grateful enough.
Maybe he’s autistic — and I need to be more understanding.
Your body knows something is wrong. But your mind contorts itself to justify staying.
"He said he’s autistic. I gave him compassion for over a decade. Until he stepped on me like I was a pile of sh*."*
You’re not in love. You’re in withdrawal.
You wait for the next high — a smile, a compliment, a breadcrumb of niceness.
And when it comes, it hits hard — like a shot of dopamine to a starved system.
"I always feel like a dry sponge. But a single smile keeps me going for weeks. I keep thinking: now we’ll be happy!"
This is not connection. This is addiction.
Your thoughts no longer protect you.
They protect him.
You have been educated into submission. You’ve been groomed into accepting his cruelty as compromise. And now, you can’t even imagine life without him.
That is the reddest flag of all.
Please note:
Narcissists come in all shapes and forms, genders and colours, from all walks of life and cultures. This blog speaks to the patterns I have witnessed most often — as a psychologist, and as a woman.
To share truth, we need more than facts.
We need the stories women carry when they finally name what was never love.
Having a relationship with a narcissist: How to help your clients become aware, protect themselves, and recover