How Quickly Will Narcissists Replace Their Supply?

Kimmy committed suicide in 2012. Her death reunited me with people we both knew from high school. One of these people was Kwame; a guy I met in English class my sophomore year. Kwame was a close friend of Kimmy.

He was in love with her and pined for her throughout high school. We all knew this and he never hid this. He went everywhere she went so if you saw her, you saw him. He kept her close, as a friend, in case they ever had a chance. I knew this day was going to be hard for him.

On the day of her wake, Kwame pulled up in a car with other people I knew from high school to give me a lift. When the wake ended, we left together. Unfortunately, my group decided to go to a restaurant to have dinner.

Kimmy’s wake was so traumatizing, that I only wanted to go home and lie down. The last thing I wanted to do was go to a restaurant to eat. But it wasn’t my call.

…

The restaurant was very fancy and big. There was a large group of us when we got there because other people from the funeral, from our high school, tagged along. When I looked around the table, I started to feel sick.

Everyone was laughing, joking, and talking. You would’ve never guessed we were standing in front of the dead body of our friend 30 minutes prior.

Kimmy was dead because people glossed over her when she was alive; here we were doing it again. I sat there, dazed and surprised, watching everyone eat — and move on.

Kwame was sitting next to me, making a flirtatious comment. I don’t remember what he said. I only remember being caught off guard by it and feeling uncomfortable.

The sexual harassment and the joy that was spreading around the table made me anxious.

I understand everyone grieves differently but the odds of every single person at that table being able to stomach food at a time like this, on a night like this, was wild to me.

It felt like I was the only one affected enough and I was very likely the one person at that table who knew Kimmy the least. It didn’t feel fair and I really wanted to go home and get away from all these happy people.

And Kwame.

An hour or two later, we left.

…

We all piled into separate cars to head home and prepare for Kimmy’s funeral the next morning. A few extra people came home with us, I don’t remember why. The car was so packed that both females (me and another girl named Nicole) had to sit on the laps of two different guys.

I had to sit on Kwame’s lap in the backseat, next to the right-side window. I was uncomfortable and scared so I laid my head against the window and counted the streetlights, anxious to get home. Dissociating.

Soon after the car took off, Kwame started touching my body. He started caressing my thigh and trying to slide one under my shirt and the other up my skirt — all without saying a word.

I didn’t know what to do because I was cornered and uncomfortable. So, I froze. I was too far from home and didn’t know how to get there from wherever we were. I was stuck.

Not to mention, no one knew this was happening. Kwame was sexually assaulting me in complete silence. And I couldn’t afford to put myself in an even more dangerous situation by being thrown out for fighting back or screaming.

It was mostly men in the car. Alerting them to what Kwame was doing was a risk. From experience, I doubted they would come to my defense. They were more his friends than mine.

…

As the assault continued I kept questioning how this could possibly be happening. Kwame was one of Kimmy’s best friends. He was one of the closest people to her out of everyone there.

He was in love with this girl. I would have assumed he’d be taking this the hardest. Here he was moving on to the next source of supply. How could this even be something he had time to think about doing when he was just in a room with her dead body?

How was he even in the mood for this? Did this girl’s death mean nothing? Was this how he grieved? Does the loss of a loved one drive a man to commit sexual assault? These questions are hypothetical because Kwame was a narcissist. A covert narcissist.

He kept Kimmy close because he wanted to win her, to conquer. Kimmy was his greatest challenge. The only reason Kwame kept himself close to Kimmy was because he wanted that chance to check her off his list.

Kimmy was his dream girl.

Plus, Kimmy’s boyfriend didn’t go to our school so he never had a reason to hide his feelings and intentions or back off. Even after we graduated he stayed close to Kimmy. So, how could he move on so quickly? Because I was supposed to be Kimmy’s replacement.

Again.

…

In my senior year, Kwame expressed interest in me a month or two before graduation. I found out he did this immediately after Kimmy told him that they could never be together. She was dedicated to her boyfriend.

I was already in a committed relationship with an older man who had started grooming me (even if I wasn’t, I don’t do second place or second choice) so I turned him down too.

This pissed Kwame off and he stopped speaking to me until her death reunited us. I didn’t understand that this was a red flag back then. I genuinely thought his feelings were hurt — not his ego.

I realize now he was looking for backup supply. He might’ve even been trying to make Kimmy jealous. I assume this because his persistence now felt more like a stubborn need to gain a victory and less like a real friendship between them.

Either way, I ruined plans I was unaware of because I didn’t know anything about narcissism back then. Narcissists are known for having a backup supply in case things fall through with their main source of supply.

In Kwame’s case, the death of his supply was unexpected. Kimmy was dead and I don’t think he had time to acquire a replacement. So, he was trying to achieve what he couldn’t (or didn’t) in high school, without my consent.

…

I was able to stop Kwame from touching me by holding his hands in mine to keep them still and away from other parts of my body.

I vaguely remember him then trying to kiss me. Everything else that happened in that car is a blur. But I made it home.

The first thing I did was shower because I felt dirty. I fell asleep after that. The following day, I attended the funeral with another friend I reunited with at the wake and went home with her too. As for the assault, I never told anyone what happened.

Until now.

The Narcissist Doesn’t Grieve Their Supply’s Death
I saw firsthand what a narcissist does after their primary source of supply dies.
medium.com

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

***

From The Good Men Project on Medium

What Does Being in Love and Loving Someone Really Mean?

My 9-Year-Old Accidentally Explained Why His Mom Divorced Me

The One Thing Men Want More Than Sex

The Internal Struggle Men Battle in Silence

***

Join The Good Men Project as a Premium Member today.

All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.

A $50 annual membership gives you an all access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.