Some of you might still remember my ill-fated romance with the possibly-BPD, possibly-narcissist pianist (the one I got into after the breakup from my BPD ex-boyfriend).
Well, the pianist discarded me late last year, and has since made some rather hilarious h00ver attempts which I wanted to share.
He had a habit of flaking out on our dates, often at the very last minute. After the seventh or eighth cancellation in a row for the most bizarre of reasons (everything from bleeding gums to the alleged death of his "beloved great-grandmother" whom he had never mentioned), I told him that I needed to be around people who treated me like a human being and who were honest with me. He threw a tantrum about how I could dare accuse him of feigning his "beloved grandmother's death" (note that two sentences ago she was his
great-grandmother), that he had really been looking forward to our date etc. (classic narc guilt trip). I didn't reply anything to that, I was done.
A month later he sent a message, some Saturday in the early afternoon: "Offer to reconcile: Dinner at my place tonight, the bolognese sauce is already cooking... hope you're well!"
I was sick when I read it. I knew immediately what had happened. Most likely his Saturday night date, whoever it might have been, had cancelled on him and he was going through his roster of replacements. Of course I didn't reply.
He wrote again the same night: "So, what's up? I'd like to eat in around an hour." The nerve!
I didn't reply.
One hour later: "I'll take that as a no, then. If you change your mind, my bolognese sauce is even better the next day"
I didn't reply, because as tempting and flattering it is to a lady to be offered literal leftovers from a self-absorbed man-child who will wreck your life, I had regained a shred of self-esteem by that point.
After a couple of days, I don't know why, I texted him: "Offer to reconcile: You come over reliably and behave like a normal human being"
He responded instantly: "I can come over reliably, but I make no promises about behaving like a normal human being"
And since I obviously ignored this with a massive eyeroll, he added later: "But I can try"
Not good enough. I didn't reply.
At this point I should mention that he never once apologised for anything. Not for his mistreatment of me, not for any of the times he'd stood me up. Even in the early days it had been a nightmare. He once had me wait for him for the better part of an hour at a boring train station in the middle of nowhere. When he finally turned up, he was bemused: "You seem... a little annoyed?" "We were supposed to meet more than half an hour ago." "But the train left just before I could get to it! It wasn't my fault!" He then guilt-tripped me about being annoyed.
Honestly, I should have run for the hills there and then. What an ass.
But I digress. After some days of my radio silence, he started sending me some weird and unfunny memes (arguably one of the worst crimes you can commit as a millennial
). Also some links to political material which he liked and he'd know I didn't (he was a woke champagne socialist, I'm conservative). Of course I didn't reply to that, either. He eventually sent me this zinger:
"hey you, I'm still waiting for an invitation from you to which I then could reliably react..."I mean, you can't make this stuff up.
He kept sending messages every few weeks saying nothing in particular. Nothing about his appalling behaviour, all in the light-hearted tone of a classmate trying to reconnect.
that.
In the meantime, I had been posting on social media, and since I'm slowly getting my life back on track, there was a good picture of me in Italy, being confident and happy. (We initially got together when I was in a really good place in life, too – he really liked how I had all my affairs in order back then.)
When I got back from my trip, there was a small package in my post box. He had wrapped up a book I had lent him and accompanied it with a postcard which read:
>We missed one another in a dream< [quote from some unwashed German pop singer he likes and I don't, NB]
I hope at our next meeting the timing will be better. [He'd strung me along for months saying "the timing isn't right" whenever I'd asked him a serious question about anything.]
I miss you.
Much love,
Ever yours,
***
Well... there won't be a next time, that's for bloody sure.
I hope that's the last I ever hear of that bugger.
Unfortunately the priceless historical musical instrument he lent me is still at my flat, but if he ever wants to collect it, I'll make sure some shirtless beau will be there to hand it over, and not I.
That's it for today, thanks for listening and do tune in next time for Sappho's Idiot Parade at 12PM GMT, only on FM BPDFamily.
