Archive for the ‘Narcissism’ Category

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In more affluent demographics, female trainers are the most sought after commodities in the human food chain, particularly for middle-aged men.

Why wouldn’t they be?

A prerequisite for employment at most upscale health-clubs is a college degree in something like Kinesiology.

So they’re educated, which is more than you can say for most strippers.

Second, they’re super ridiculously fit, unlike most wives.

And third, they have healthy lifestyle habits, so [in your mind, anyway] you won’t have to chase them down at nightclubs and pool parties at 3 in the morning.

The fantasy is a supercharged version of the woman you met at Dartmouth 25 years ago. An upgrade from the standard 6-speed to PDK with more horsepower and better suspension.

All female trainers in these environments are keenly aware of this fantasy and leverage it like a hammer of the gods.

This is why the lion’s share of clients for these women are men over 40 — and sometimes women who want to save their marriages.

……………….

Postscript: The types of men and women trainers attract has everything to do with presentation.

Trainer Stereotytpes and the Clients They Attract

1] Super hot 25 – 32 year-old female.

Clients: Men over 40

2] Chiseled man of color with attitude.

Clients: Attractive young females who know he knows how to get them in the kind of shape they want to in in to attract men like him…or him as the case may be.

3] Male or female bodybuilder.

Clients: Men and women interested in sculpting and putting on some mass.

3] Older male or female trainers without no other agenda than keeping their clients out of emergency rooms.

Clients: Normal, well-adjusted men and women over 40 who see the big picture rather than a subplot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When a “normal, well-adjusted” young woman sees an older man dating someone her age [or is hit on by an older man], she often dismisses the move as “creepy.”

But none of this has anything whatsoever to do with the man. It’s the woman’s frustration with her own personal life.

She’s either single and frustrated, or unhappy with someone in her life, and hopes this kind of thing doesn’t become a routine.

She’s trying to protect her space in time from outside interference.

If I told you I didn’t understand this reaction I’d be lying. I did the same thing as a young man when trying to defend my world from older affluent men who seemed to come and go at will with women my age.

I wasn’t there yet, and there was nothing I could do about it.

It was what it was, and I couldn’t afford to compete.

As for the women who refuse to consider it as a viable alternative to younger men, the following applications of “creepy” are as follows:

1] Young women use it against their fathers for dating women their age — and against their fathers’ friends who hit on them.

2] Older women use it against older men who won’t date them because they’re no longer young.

3] Feminist yoga Nazis use it against men because any weapon against men is a good thing.

This is the backlash all older men face when bucking the system.

It’s also blatant discrimination, sanctioned by all women for the reasons enumerated.

All men are fair game. Not that we haven’t always been the scapegoat for all of the world’s nightmares. Thank God we don’t have menstrual cycles or the shit would really hit the fan.

You definitely do not want to fuck with testosterone.

Just let us buy into our own delusions for a solid week every month and there would be nothing left to talk about.

So back to the “creep” thing, if dating women half our age is “creepy” then tell younger women to stop dating us.

There are many reasons they do it, including the ones you imagine, so stop wasting your breath.

Do women actually think age-appropriate relationships come with money back guarantees?

Check out the latest divorce statistics — or how about the number of single women running around with kids they can’t afford because their age-appropriate husbands got sick of their emasculating bullshit and moved to another state under an assumed name.

Cry all you want. Men will take what’s available because it’s in our nature. It’s what we do and who we are, and just because women resent it doesn’t mean it’s going anywhere.

When women hand their bodies to us in the name of feminist egalitarianism, we take the bodies and forget about what the hell it’s called. All we see is availability…and now we’re opportunists; soulless scumbags with no moral compass bordering on the sociopathic.

Hey, it’s not our fault that Oxytocin doesn’t run rampant in our bloodstreams.

The regret drug. Oops. Didn’t think feelings would play a role in rough play, did you?

Frankly, it’s time all women took a long, hard look at what they’ve created.

Yes, this is their world, the one they carved out in the name of equality and then hammered over our heads for 5 decades.

So this is what hammering us over the head for 5 decades looks like…

 

After a while this shit gets ridiculous.

The woman is obviously in her mid-40s, which is fine because she still looks great [but not in this photograph] for a hard-working middle-aged talk show host.

Generally speaking, I don’t care that people lie about their age.

But for someone like Handler who prides herself on coming clean about everything, and then demanding the same of her guests is beyond belief.

Now viewers focus more on the quality of her Botox injections than her performance.

Now she’s the brunt of the joke.

Gene Simmons’ “hair” is no longer a talking point.

Now everyone knows that the routine outing of guests is an effective ploy to deflect attention from herself.

I’d like to someone challenge her on the numbers, but I’m sure their appearance contract prohibits any mention of her age.

In the end, people would have far more respect for her if she just stopped embarrassing herself.

Yes, she can still attract the attention of young men — for a night, which is the crux of this whole thing: waning relevance.

Love the irony.

Disclaimer: I’m no longer in this war.

Now I’m now an observer who once fought it for more years than I can count.

I also received more purple hearts than I care to remember.

A few bullet points to consider:

1] Young women resent being hit on by men their father’s age, even in a world where said men are dating women their age, including their own fathers.

2] Middle-aged women resent being ignored by age-relevant men who look like Pierce Brosnan — and with similar levels of wealth.

3] Young men resent having to compete with men twice their age and 200 times their net worth in dollar bills.

Everyone’s pissed and confused because everything that was supposed to happen a certain way is not happening at all.

Normal, well adjusted college women will never see any of this unless their dads bring home one of their classmates — to live at the same house.

As for middle aged women, they’ll harvest from the readily available pool of college guys that want great sex without having to act on their Internet perversions with women they want to marry.

And young men no longer have unfettered access to sex on demand because now they have to do battle with older men who can outspend them in a world that values materialism over everything else.

There’s good and bad, but somebody’s gotta recalibrate the numbers.

Ever notice that after not seeing someone for years [usually a decade or more], the first thing you tell them is how great they look?

What brought me to this was Facebook, where older people are always complimenting one another on their appearance.

It’s never “Hey, what’s up?” or “Hey, great to see you.”

It’s “Hey John, you look great!”

The fact is older people generally look like crap compared to the way they used to look no matter how good it may have been.

The compliment is meant to either blunt the shock of a sudden encounter, or gain acceptance through flattery.

Most people assume that after a certain age people obsess about appearance, so the compliments have become a sort of default greeting like shaking hands.

But there are other less obvious motives.

For example, if a woman looks like hell while her lifelong friend is jammed up with Botox and Yoga, it makes the hotter of the two feel less ashamed of the disparity.

The best approach is to avoid the appearance issue altogether.

If you must, just tell them they look great for their age.

This won’t win you any friends, but at least it’s honest.

But don’t say it without including yourself in the equation because you’ll look like an asshole no matter what the hell you actually look like.

Young people look great all the time – even after a sleepless night of binging. Their skin pops right up like the surface of a beach ball, their hair is thick and tousled like someone just spent an hour styling it for a scene in an action-adventure sequence, and the freaking whites of their eyes are blinding. Mine only look like that after an entire bottle of Visine. Otherwise it’s like I’ve been damned to Hell or something. So no, people don’t need to compliment young people on their appearance!

The downside for youth is that is fleeting, which means that we spend the lion’s share of our lives in Purgatory.

We go from 17 to 21 in a heartbeat, and by the time we hit the backside of 30 it’s all down hill.

We get about 12 years of grace before life throws us out into open waters where we spend the remainder of it propping each other up.

So whether it’s women looking for their Prince at age 35, or a guy in his mid-40’s dating college students, it gets weirder and weirder as we go.

This is why I always tell people that once youth is gone, just relax and go with what works because the time for normal and well adjusted is over.

 

 

Controlling a woman is delusion, except in cases where childhood hardship leaves wounds greater than herself. In such cases you can push all you want and she won’t notice anything but the attention.

Women don’t tie up the loose ends of a man’s life. They soften the blows of masculine design, which is always a pain in the ass I must admit.

Setting a woman free is the boldest move a man can make. It’s reveals a certain solidity – solidarity with self – which is intoxicating to any woman.

Setting a man free is a different story for another blog.

Suffice to say, men generally need a tighter leash because men are always at war with their impulses on some level.

You reap what you sow. Knock off the bitching.

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Feminism was a beautiful disaster: Inevitable and utterly demoralizing to gender relations.

Blame my generation if it makes you feel better — the Boomers, the dickheads who set everything ablaze with angst and fury and righteous prose.

And after the angel dust settled we turned our backs on everything we stood for because, as it turned out, we liked money and fame and celebrity and materialism after all.

So now the kids today are living with the scars; the entitlement, narcissism, and ever-elusive fantasies.

This was particularly bad for men, because today masculinity is a plague with anti-virals in every media domain.

Young men are left to feed when they’re hungry, and then go back to the web when it subsides because there isn’t anywhere else to go.

Okay, I’ll shut up.

Thomas Couture, Daydreams

In conventional parlance, vanity is the excessive belief in one’s own abilities or attractiveness to others (Stephen LaMarche). Prior to the 14th century it did not have such narcissistic undertones, and merely meant futility.[1] The related term vainglory is now often seen as an archaic synonym for vanity, but originally meant boasting in vain, i.e. unjustified boasting;[2] although glory is now seen as having an exclusively positive meaning, the Latin term Gloria (from which it derives) roughly means boasting, and was often used as a negative criticism. [3]

1] Oxford English dictionary, on vanity
2] Oxford English dictionary, on vainglory
3] Oxford English dictionary, on glory

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If “vanity”is a form of self-idolatry, we have an institutionalized pandemic on our hands.

http://www.oprah.com/relationships/The-Narcissistic-Personality-Inventory-Test

………..

We’re going back many years, but these are a few things I remember about dating narcissistic women:

They tended to dress provocatively, which was kind of like watching soft porn in three dimensions if you discounted the soul.

Thus, pandering to their incessant need for attention and approval was tantamount to getting laid, which was a slam-dunk with a little practice.

Once I slept with them, I could walk away with confidence knowing that I exploited them before they got to me, which was the inevitable consequence of lingering.

But this is made me even more attractive to them, because now I presented a challenge to a highly exploitative competitor in the presence of a valuable fuel source.

This meant the ball was solidly in my court.

So would I play along or ignore them altogether, knowing that ignoring a narcissist is like sending them straight to Hell?

As I recall, I would often give it another whirl or two just to see how far they would go to transform me into a reflection they could live with.

I have to admit the dysfunctional journey was sometimes worth it.

Some of them were so delusional that I would find myself laughing out loud after a few cocktails — and they didn’t have the vaguest idea that it was over their ridiculous personality disorder, rather than what they assumed to be their wry sense of humor.

You gotta’ love this!

The downside to the little passion play was that, at some point, they began to catch on to my manipulations, which often lead to a stalker problem when I decided the game had run its course.

Nonetheless, all the risky behavior and unpredictable moods and dishonesty and aggression and lack of empathy and condescension and imagined attributes made them a pleasure to bat around like a cat toy.

But as the years passed I grew tired of the game and decided to pursue therapy as a way to close the door on my obsession with gaining the approval of narcissists, which was what it was all about in the first place and why neither of us ever won.

 

 

Narcissistic women need men in their lives to protect them, which fuels their behavior. I suggest you tape this to your refrigerator.

Diagnostic criteria for 301.50 Histrionic [Narcissistic] Personality Disorder [with some flourish from me]

Women with narcissistic personality disorder exhibit pervasive patterns of excessive emotionality and attention seeking, beginning by early childhood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five [or more] of the following:

1] She is uncomfortable in situations in which she is not the center of attention.

2] Her interactions with others are often characterized by inappropriate sexually seductive or provocative behavior.

Jay: I notice this with alcoholics and women who can’t get their meds straight.

3] She displays rapidly shifting and shallow expression of emotions.

4] She consistently uses physical appearance to draw attention to self.

Jay: Why they included this one is beyond me, since every hot woman on the earth would be forced to check it.

5] She has a style of speech that is excessively impressionistic and lacking in detail.

6] She shows-self-dramatization, theatricality and exaggerated expression of emotion.

7] She considers relationships to be more intimate than they actually are.

Jay: Narcissistic women gravitate to enablers who fuel their grandiosity. This keeps them in denial about things that aren’t as grand.

There is, in fact, life outside of their own. Of course, you’d be hard pressed to make that point without an abrupt turn in the conversation and subsequent dismissal for failure to fan their delusions.

Okay, let’s get down to business.

Note: We children of narcissistic parents carry a heavy cross. We have to fill in all the blanks our parents left in a state of impressionism. So we’re particularly sensitive to narcissistic behavior. It’s in our blood and we are forever recovering.

With this in mind, both genders are hostile to beauty.

It’s the way of things. Competition is at the root of survival. Where there’s life, there’s a reason it exists, and it’s always the same reason. Asteroids and black holes are exceptions to this rule if only because their grandiosity is exceeds out ability to medicate it.

Anyway, men who perceive a woman to be out of their leagues will often harass them, and/or reduce them to stereotypes in an effort to salvage their porous egos.

Another ploy to level the playing field is to offer all-expense-paid trips to Spain in private jets, which brings us back to stereotyping and harassment, so it’s a wash.

The ploys are endless, but a necessary part of the process of competition, and ultimately, survival.

Beauty is a drug we can’t live without if survival is our objective.

Frankly, this is one irony I can’t live without.

Women envy the beauty of other women, so they resort to cattiness and other strategery designed to destabilize or weaken their position in the food chain. Their best option is to befriend them and then exploit them from within once they feel secure. No matter how you look at it, the whole damn thing is like chipping away at the Berlin wall.

So at the end of the day, beauty is a mixed blessing.

What this means is that in order for a beautiful woman to be freely beautiful, she must feel protected. This usually comes in the form of a handsome and/or powerful man everyone admires; someone who dotes on her as though his life depended on it.

This is the Holy Grail to the female narcissist.  He is her stage, her lighting, her audience…and her fuel.

We love each other so much. [see #7]

We’re inextricable. [see #7]

Fused. [see #7]

One. [see #7]

I have my blessed man so fucking nailed down to me that he wouldn’t leave if his life depended on it, not that he has one without me, but he doesn’t need to know that. I don’t even know that. But as long as this union exists I don’t have think about it and that’s all that matters to us, and to everyone who aspires to be us.

[see #1, #3, #5, #6]

He loves me more than his own life. It’s a kind of perverse idolatry, which I encourage and exploit.

[see #7, again]

Everything about him is perfect, so much so that I document our union on Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, LinkedIn, Flickr, local gossip magazines and social gatherings which afford me the opportunity to fuel even greater speculation and fantasy.

[start with #1 and re-read the entire list]

In public, no one else exists. And he carries me through this fantasy like an indentured servant. I am so in love with myself, and the envy of everyone fuels my persona. My evasiveness alone charges the atmosphere like an atom bomb with fantasies and speculation about me a union they will never know. With my man fused to my side like a heroin addict in a poppy field, I am free to wander the earth like a God.

[at this point, feel free to move on to the chapters covering psychosis and hallucinations]

I post photos of him in his most glorious moments to fan the flames of my own narcissism. See it’s not about him as much as it’s about how much a man of his stature loves me, which turns the focus back on me.

In short, he is my God and I am his Princess. He worships me and I worship him. So I guess we’re both fucked. No, I didn’t say that! It must have been those goddamned blogs of Jay Rusovich. I didn’t think or say that at all! We’re like a Hollywood movie. We’ve transcended the human condition. He makes love to me 10 times a day and never fails to rise to the occasion. We orgasm together – each and every time – as if our relationship were guided by celestial forces.

No! He is not sleeping with a transvestite!

Stopping Jay Rusovich is the new focus of my life. No, I don’t mean sole focus, just one focus, because the real focus is my wonderful boyfriend.

I cut a little piece of his skin off every morning and drop it in my coffee. He does the same thing so we never feel distant. I am a psychopath. No! I am not a goddamned psychopath! Go away, Jay Rusovich. Your venom is a nightmare … and contagious. You should be exterminated. My life is perfect. Are you listening? Perfect! Look at the picture. Observe his behavior towards me in public. You don’t even know his name because he doesn’t want to meet you or anyone else. He adores me. Holds covets me like oxygen. Everyone else is completely invisible to him. He takes care of his body and then comes home to take care of mine. His focus is narrow and I’m in its cross hairs. No I am not a pathological narcissist. No I don’t need anyone else’s affirmation. Shut the fuck up, Jay Rusovich. Shut up and go away! My life is perfect and you’re just jealous that some of us transcend the human condition.

Poppy farmers sometimes feel the same way. No, I did not just say that!

I find it fascinating that the very security and freedom these relationships provide narcissistic men and women are also the windows through which one can observe the unfettered behavior of the insane.