Narc has always had impeccable timing. Somehow, he is always able to sense when my life is going well and when I’m releasing him, and that’s when he inevitably comes out of the woodwork again to try to hook me.
This past weekend I went away to my cottage. As I settled in on Friday night, I was feeling free-spirited, peaceful, beautiful, happy. I made mango martinis, cranked the tunes, and had a one-woman dance party in my living room.
In the morning, I woke to find a text from him: “Sorry. I don’t know how that happened.”
First of all, I couldn’t figure out how a text had gotten through my text blocker. Later I realized when I’d had my phone replaced a few weeks ago, I set up the blocker wrong. However, that actually turned out to be a blessing because this one text that slipped through alerted to me to the presence of one of his most favourite fish hooks: the ‘accidental’ pocket dial.
The first pocket dial I ever got from narc was about 8 months into knowing him. He ‘accidentally’ pocket dialed my work number, and left me a long message of him and his ‘friend’ (but actually girlfriend) planning a trip to Cuba. I was devastated.
Over the next few years, I received many pocket dials. They almost exclusively happened during periods when I’d cut off contact. They usually happened on Friday or Saturday nights so that I could ‘accidentally’ hear what a great time he was having without me.
This time, it happened on a Friday night to my home number, which he almost NEVER called even when we were dating. (I can’t believe I was ever gullible enough to believe these calls were accidental. Narcs really are so good at spinning stories that leave us disoriented and confused. I can see everything so clearly now.)
I immediately dialed into my home voicemail and, for the first time ever, I didn’t listen to the message. He would NOT get his hooks me in this time. I would not ALLOW him to ruin my beautiful weekend. Once my voicemail was cleared, I went back into my text blocker, fixed the settings, deleted him once again, and breathed a sigh of relief.
This week it will be 7 months since the breakup and I AM HAPPY. I still think about him/us/our trainwreck of a relationship, and I still cry sometimes, but that’s part of the healing. I love myself now, I love who I’m becoming, and I love my life. He can ‘accidentally’ call my voicemail as much as he wants, I’m done with him. His hooks are dull and his bait is rotten. No contact for the win!