I suppose my latest strategy is to bore him to death. And this--this is much harder than it sounds.
You see. I don't actually think I'm a boring person.
I've numerous interests. Truth be told, I aspire to be a freakin renaissance woman, most of the time.
I'm the one in the apartment complex in need of a piano. I lift weights. I run the partial racks on the billiard table. I have a brain and a terminal degree. I enjoy art--even the art I make. I write. Most of the time, I prefer to do things myself, because I care about actually doing it to my own personal standard that sometimes seems different than others. As I type, I suspect I sound like a narcissist, myself.
I was raised by at least one parent with very high standards. Standards that might be construed as related to said parent's narcissistic traits.
That may have potentially contributed to my ending up with a narcissist.
Thus, I'm trying the boring strategy.
More or less I aim to communicate that I might be the most boring person on the planet.
I'm absolutely a bore. And this is hard.
Because, if anything, the narcissist has caused me to work on myself, quite a bit, over the years. At many points, I had to work on myself in order to survive. I worked in order to learn and grow and change. Ironically, this was what the narcissist ended up conjuring out of me, though he can do precious little in conjuring such out of himself.
And so, in some sort of weird, ironic twist of fate, I kind of have him to thank for being who I am.
But, I'm so working on being a bore or at least communicating that I'm a bore. Just so you know...
