The question should no longer be whether or not narcissists or psychopaths really exist, it should be; are you recognising the patterns when you’re in a relationship with one. Because it rarely feels dangerous at the start. It feels exciting. Fun. Alive.

People high in manipulative traits (call them narcissistic, controlling, whatever) tend to:

    • move fast
    • create intensity
    • give inconsistent attention

This behaviour creates or amplifies limerence in people who’ve been used to inconsistency — rollercoaster emotions and attention that isn’t stable — your system locks onto it fast. It recognises the pattern. Not the person. Limerance is like a kind of obsession. These men(usually) quickly become everything you’ve been looking for, and a place for you to project that fantasy of a life that you’ve always been waiting for. And it’s intoxicating.

Limerence thrives on:

  • uncertainty
  • intermittent reward (hot → cold → hot)
  • fantasy + projection
  • fear of losing the connection

So when someone behaves in a way that’s: intense → then withdrawn → then intense again…it doesn’t push a limerent person away — it pulls them in deeper. That’s the hook. 

You’re building that life in your head — who they could be, who you could be with them, what it could all turn into. It’s not grounded in reality. It’s a fantasy built on longing.

And apparently they know it. They target it.


They intense, attention, charm, “specialness” at the beginning shifts into inconsistency: hot and cold behaviour, emotional highs followed by withdrawal, leaving you unsettled and trying to regain the connection. There’s often a lack of real empathy beneath the surface, alongside blame-shifting and subtle distortion of events so you start questioning yourself. Boundaries get tested and pushed, then minimised or denied. The overall effect is not steady closeness, but a cycle of intensity, confusion, and control that keeps you engaged without feeling secure. In these relationships you lose yourself gradually.

You adjust. You tolerate. You tell yourself it’s not that bad.

I remember the moment it became undeniable in one of my relationships. I was crying because he’d been in weeks of conversation with another woman (more than one) and she’d come and told me, when I disclosed this to him in tears he danced around me in circles, laughing and teasing me, ‘I’m just so loveable’, ‘everyone wants me’. And something in me just went dead. I hadn’t ever heard of a ‘narcassist’ before but suddenly it all made sense. He had never showed me an ounce of empathy and I hadn’t even seen it – i’d certainly felt it. But I didn’t know what it was. I’d stayed because I believed: if I love him more, this will change. He’ll love me and we’ll live out that fantasy that feels just an inch away.

Our vulnerability may be a strength but we need to know when to show it and when not to. It isn’t always received with care. In these relationships it’s actually used against us. And you become one more of the stories they’ve told you about their “crazy” exes.


But to start with, you stay. Because there are moments of joy, excitement, most of all possibility. Honestly when I’ve been with these men I’ve never felt happier or had more fun. But I also felt supremely unsafe, constantly confused and constantly in fear of them leaving me. When something feels like it’s slipping away, you hold on tighter. That’s the hook.

I had a friend of one of my partners, when he first met me, whisper in my ear: “run while you can”. And I didn’t listen. I kept it to myself.

I went out with another man who told me he’d beaten up a previous girlfriend and ended up in jail and the most worrying part was that he said it was the right thing to do, he’d do it again. But i was already in. I shut down and bided my time until I knew I could safely leave. But his cruelty still pulled me back and forth despite knowing all this. Cruelty that noone around me understood – until they got to experience it for themselves, amid the everyday facade of charm.


We all have lines in the sand. Maybe it’s ‘I’d never let him hit me’. Maybe it’s hurting your loved ones. – That was my line. I will never stay with someone who hurts any of my family members.

Why wasn’t I the line? Why wasn’t my own pain the line?

I didn’t have children with any of these men because I knew they wouldn’t be good fathers. But they were acceptable for me?

That distortion doesn’t come from nowhere.


In my head I wanted to be the unconditionally loving one — the one who understands, supports.

I felt sorry for them. They had a terrible childhood. There’s a little boy inside every devil, right?

That’s what kept me in it. Women are groomed with that idea.

But that role costs you.


You are not here to fix someone else’s life. Not their past. Not their behaviour. Not their potential.


Women are socialised to believe it’s all our responsibility — to take care of everyone around us.

These are the mental bars on our cages. And it’s so tempting to take full responsibility for everything in your life – and believe me I do. I studied Byron Katie for years. But there is a biological element here too. We are the products of our genes, our society, our environment, our intelligence, our beliefs….

What I know now and it’s a daily reminder – other people’s emotion is not my responsibility.

Sacrificing myself to make someone else stronger doesn’t end well.


Psychologists agree that these men target women who’ve learned to tolerate too little — and work too hard for it. With inconsistent attention that hooks you.

It’s an old familiar pattern, which we subconsciously live and re-live.

You’re not choosing them. You’re repeating something.


It doesn’t matter if they’re a narcissist or a psychopath.

At the end of the day do you feel safe in the relationship? Do you feel secure? 

Or are you with someone who creates intensity instead of stability?

The label might help a bit in your head. But blame doesn’t really help anyone.

Ask the question and then get out.


You are your own safe place.

You are the protector of your inner child that seeks out safety in others.
You must learn to trust your discomfort.
You must act on what you see early.
You mustn’t override yourself to keep someone.

Your boundary must be: “If this destabilises me, I step out.”
You can take care of yourself.
That’s the work.


It changes everything.

Because then you’re no longer pulled by fantasy, potential, emotional highs.

You start choosing based on consistency, ease, someone you can trust.

There’s a part of you that learned to tolerate instability.

That part needs protecting now. Not abandoning. Not negotiating away. Protecting.


You don’t need to understand them. You don’t need to diagnose them. You don’t need to fix them.

You need to stay with yourself.

Life is hard and it’s ok to need help.

Healing is forever and this is the work.

We know the information. It’s the application that’s important. Living it.

This is the work to enable you to create your life, not as a fantasy but as a reality. Here and now.

Then meet your person where you’re at.

Look for the green flags:
What makes me smile and feel good around someone?

First of all, be ok with yourself, be your own safe place.
Protect that little girl inside who feels unsafe.
Let her know you’re 47 now.
You can look after yourself.
And that’s your only job.