Therapy with a Narcissist

I'm a nonbinary pansexual. The most mouthful for the one who wishes to disregard all the boxes.

"What is a pansexual?"

"It's like, gender isn't a consideration when it comes to a mate. It's like energy. Who you connect with."

"Depending on how you look at it, one might call it either desperate or beautiful. I support the latter, although...no, no, never mind."

I'm not desperate. Not in the traditional sense.

"I would prefer to be alone than have a less than explosive connection. So in a way I'm hopeful, not desperate, for that kind of connection.

The one that makes you feel alive. It's rare. So I suppose in a sense, I am desperate for that sense of aliveness yet at the same time, I completely accept the fact that it simply only exists in films, novels, and maybe a few times in one's life. I've had my times. So anything beyond tomorrow would simply be a surprise. Which is, great, depending on how you look at it."

She keeps scribbling in her note pad, I don't like how she doesn't make eye contact with me.

"I don't wish to put myself out there, therefore my chances of actually meeting someone distinguishes quite significantly, you know what I mean? If we consider, probability theory and all... it's not probable I will meet someone with the fireworks I'm looking for because...I'm a hermit. And prefer it that way."

It's incredibly annoying, her lack of eye contact.

"It's not that it's impossible to meet someone while staying at home. Sure, there are apps for that. Unfortunately I don't want to do that. Will not do that. You see, I'm quite picky. I have a lot of considerations and qualifications and conditions I'm after. We could not possibly meet on the internet because, well, I'm not good at texting. The essence of my personality just cannot be conveyed through the coveted text message."

Or maybe you don't have a personality.

"Or maybe it can, and perhaps my personality is just not that great."

Oh wow, that made her see me. Thank you for the eye contact lady.

"But my in-person charm makes up for it. I don't know, I think I'm great so that may be a flawed theory."

A hermit with conditions, the ego of a god and the confidence of a possum. I would prefer to play dead than express the way I actually feel. You might think this story will end well. For instance, an Amazon delivery person knocks on my door for the umpteenth time this month and I answer the door, and when I do our eyes meet and all of a sudden...sparks fly...the rest is history. But no. I request for them to leave the packages outside the door sans knock.

"I just don't want to be bothered. You know what I mean? Everyone is such a bother. Walking time capsules of past, present and future and personally, I have enough of that on my own. It's exhausting."

You don't say.

"So instead of a nonbinary pansexual, would that make me completely asexual? Well I'm not asexual, I love having sex. But also not in the mood to learn someone else's ticks and kinks. That's a lot of work. I just wonder if the world of Barbarella was on to something, you know what I mean?"

Do you even know what you mean?

"I'm only here right now because I am so completely bored with myself and my thoughts and existence. I don't find myself particularly boring, no. I find myself quite interesting in fact. But I'm not trying to convince someone else about how interesting I am. I mean if you don't know by now, just walk away."

I could tell she was judging me for my honesty. I could tell because she stopped writing and stared at me for a long time with a disturbingly stern look on her face. I read her mind. It said:

You're hopeless.

But rather than saying that she gave me some of her best professional insight:

"Have you ever considered, that maybe you think about yourself too much?"

I thought about this for a moment. Do I think about myself too much? Do I?

"Well what else is there to think about?"

"Many, many things. Others, for instance."

"What about them?"

"They're feelings, what they want, who they are, likes, dislikes. Them."

"I don't see how this has anything to do with me"

"That's the point"

"No the point is I'm paying you to listen to me talk about myself, so I don't see what anybody else has to do with that"

She let out a huge sigh. I could tell she was getting frustrated with me but I don't see how that's my problem. This is her job. Why can't anybody just be themselves anymore?

"Am I not worthy of love because I'm completely unabashedly myself? Isn't that the only way to actually know you're truly loved?"

"Sure. But love and relationships-"

"Ah! See I'm not talking about relationships. I'm talking about love."

"Sure but love leads to relationships and relationships require compromise, from both -"

Compromise, I can't stand that word.

"No. Relationships lead love to its death. Love is simply a moment, a feeling, it's uncompromising. It doesn't need to. It's unconditional."

"But you said you have so many conditions."

"I do! But not really. It's really just the one."

"And what's that?

I didn't know what to say. So I sat there. Trying to come up with a way to describe it. Nothing came to me.

We sat there in silence. Her looking at me and down at her watch, while I looked out the window deep in thought, really trying to think of what my one condition was.

Then she told me our time was up.

"Same time next week?"

She told me no. That her schedule was full and that we've gone as far as we could with our sessions. That she could no longer help me anymore.

As I left the office and stepped outside, I realized my only condition is someone who doesn't give up so easily, someone who enjoyed the saga-nightmare of my life as much as I did. I mean, it's interesting goddamnit.