What’s it like to be a pscyhopath?
Emotionals: Flatlines. Most days are just flatlines. You go out there, and you do what interests you, and sometimes the monotony of your existence is punctuated by events. Sometimes you feel pleasant and happy, sometimes you feel angry, but your emotions are like calm ocean waves. It comes, and then it goes, invariably around the clock, and they’re just as mild and watery as waves. There are no tsunamis in our world. We do not implode. We do not explode.
Our emotional range typically lacks the highest peaks and the lowest lows, but especially not the lows.
Relationships: We don’t love, and we don’t bond, and we don’t grieve. I treasure some people, but if they fell off a really tall cliff I would ask why and (if no justice needs serving) I move on. There are psychopaths who invest in people and have inner circles. There are those who do not. I’m one of those somewhere in the middle, with an inner circle I will not kill for. Regardless, we are fiercely loyal to our people. We go to great, incomprehensible lengths for them, because we are never concerned with the question, why me?
Why me, is for me, the singularly most damaging, self-pitying question people ask in a relationship. Why me? Why do I have to put up with this? Why do I have to suffer so? Why am I trapped into this? Well, we don’t have that. When we want to leave, we dust off our asses and get on our bikes and ride into the satanic sunset. If we stay, we are doing it of conscious choice and we don’t fucking whine about it.
Most importantly, we do not stalk, and we do not trap you into a relationship you don’t want to be. Your stalker ex? Not a psychopath. Your boss? Not a psychopath.
Masks:
A mask is something we use to fit in.
It is the minutiae of faking empathy, emotion, and NT thought processes in order to fit in. It is not some glamorous Sailormoon transformation process that immediately levels us up from human to dark vigilante. It includes, but isn’t just limited to:
- Responding with ‘I’m fine’ instead of ‘Fuck off’
- Caring about your epileptic kid stories
- Being afraid with everyone else when an escaped lion appears, and screaming like a little girl.
- Griping about bills.
- Nervousness about a big day, speech etc.
- Caring deeply about being fired
- Complaining about the prices of things.
- Showing low-self esteem sometimes ala ‘I’m so fat! I hate myself!’
- Pretending to remember and keep grudges from that time Albert from Accounts was slightly rude to you, because that’s expected behavior and you don’t want anyone to know that you’ve all but forgotten his existence.
Extrapolate to everyday interactions that fits this trend. In other words, it’s mostly to cover up the fact that we biologically cannot give a shit, because everyone else expects us to give many shits and fit in with their model of NT behavior.
You dial these up and down depending on what your culture/society is like, but the end goal is the same — to fit in.
In tldr terms, we biologically cannot give a shit about most things that people give many shits about, so we have to hide it.
Diseases and assorted NOs:
No, we do not get PTSD. No, we do not get depressed. No, no insecurity, nor arrogance. Not sadism usually, but there are exceptions. We do not play with people for fun. We do not kill. We do not kill ourselves either. We do not post our brain scans online. We do not self-diagnose. We do not care what you think about us. We are all here for a reason, and that reason is not to nurture your disbelief.
I hope that is comprehensive insight into our day.
– Carlis Kwok
What is it like to be a trophy wife?
I spend a lot of time complaining to myself and my friends (girlfriends and guy friends) about my life but overall it is good. I would not trade it for the alternative if that’s what you mean.
The good parts:
- I love him, for real. Sure, I won’t lie that him being successful didn’t influence my decision to date him and later when he proposed it was a no-brainer, but there isn’t a single girlfriend of mine or woman I ever talked to honestly who didn’t want an older man with a good job and money. So it’s not a loveless marriage or a marriage of convenience, I fell in love with a man who happens to have a lot of money, and that’s still one of the things that makes me happiest about my life, having met someone who I love so much and who loves me, despite our age differences and whatever else.
- Never having to worry about paying for things. I had a $27,000/year job trying to do writing for small (often failing) newspapers in a big city before I met him, sharing an apartment with a friend. I spent the money I made on my wardrobe and shoes and hair (and I guess I’m glad I did) but a couple months choosing between rent and utilities like phone or heat was a real issue. I know a lot of people think self-respect and making your own way is a big thing (including me) but I do not want to go back to that life.
- He makes a lot of money. I mean a lot. I literally could not believe it when I first began to understand, but pretty much unless I want to buy a house or a very expensive car (like a Ferrari, not a Lexus) I don’t have to worry about the price ever. It’s nice being able to shop all you want and he is more than happy to provide so that I look my best. And what girl doesn’t want to look good? Especially since her man is the one who appreciates her more than anyone?
- I get to associate with a lot of interesting people. I was raised with good middle-class manners, so I can get along passably with “high society” especially since many of the people he socializes with at work-related events are self-made and not “blue-blood European old money” types, so I get to meet lots of interesting and accomplished people and their spouses. Much more interesting than my slacker friends who I feel a bit bad not talking to as often but the truth is that a lot of my friends from high school are still doing nothing with their lives and smoking pot and these people aren’t (as much, or as openly).
Now the bad parts:
- People (including yourself) judging me. There is always an unspoken feeling of disapproval about what I’ve done or the arrangement we have, even if both of us are happy. It’s obvious that society frowns on this sort of thing and feels like a talented young woman with a college degree should be making her own way instead of stopping out and becoming a kept woman. Probably my own worst critic is myself to be honest.
- Not really feeling like I truly own anything. The most expensive thing I’ve ever owned myself was a used car I bought for $2400 with money I earned at my first job out of school. I loved that car, but it made too much sense to trade it in when he bought me a much, much nicer new car many years later as a birthday present. Everything else, even if it’s something I’ve picked out myself that he could never have any use for (like shoes, jewelry, makeup, accessories) still feels like it doesn’t belong to me because it’s really his money. Most days I try not to think about this and it’s all right but occasionally it comes to mind.
- I feel like I have to keep the marriage together. It does feel a bit like a hostage situation, because I know if things were to break up, I would lose a lot of this. Yes I would be entitled to some of his stuff, but he is the one who has powerful lawyer friends so it probably wouldn’t turn out well for me. We don’t have children yet (but we are talking about it) so there wouldn’t be any child support. I’ve met some wives and ex-wives of his friends and the ex-wives say that in a divorce situation I will do okay but not great, and if I love him I should do my best for the marriage especially if we have kids (obviously).
All in all I can say that obviously we would like to be completely independent and financially-secure women but if life finds us in a situation where we are a trophy wife there are worse things that can happen to us.
– Anonymous
Why We Don’t Just Have Sex With Anyone
One of the immediate reasons for not having sex with everyone is because there is a cost associated with doing so!
If you accept that the idea of “life” is to propagate your genes, and thus, you want your genes to be the most fit they can be, then making a pairing with a “low-quality” partner will hamper your genes in the long run!
While the cost of sex is comparatively low for males physically, since sperm is a relatively “cheap” gamete, it is quite expensive for females! Once impregnated, a female, as everyone knows, has to gestate an infant for nine months! That’s nine months of moving slower, needing to be more careful, and then however many years to raisea baby into adulthood!
If you mated with everyone, you would need to hope that random chance slotted you with a great partner! For those on the extremely genetically “unfit” spectrum, random mating would be great, because usually, they would mate with higher quality partners!
Those on the other side of the bell curve would, by the same rationale, do worse, as they would typically end up mating with lower-quality partners.
If we’re just talking about sex for pleasure, that’s a slightly different story. But similarly, every mating with a lower-quality partner would mean you weren’t having sex with a higher quality partner. This could lead to reduced quality elsewhere besides children. Perhaps “quality” in a mate is governed by resource giving, or attention, or help with social problems or tasks.
In reality, we don’t operate like bonobos simply because we’ve evolved under different circumstances, so it’s difficult to simply rewire our brains to behave as such! Even if we don’t like to think so, there is a nearly constant assessment of “quality” going on in our social interactions
What it’s like working at an animal shelter which has to put animals down?
On a daily basis, we clean up after the animals, feed them, take their pictures, vaccinate, medicate, socialize, etc. For every cute puppy or kitten we adopt out, we usually find ourselves getting two in return. Whether its a stray off the streets, or some heartless chode that decided their dog of 5+ years doesn’t “fit” with their lifestyle anymore. No matter how hard we try, we grow attached. To some, we attach more than others.
Euthanasia is a necessary evil. Space isn’t limitless, and even if it was, who would pay for all of the animals? I’m just sure our fellow Texans are salivating at the thought of increased taxes, especially for taking care of feral cats and breeds that have been labelled violent by a very ignorant public (i.e. pit-bulls).
It doesn’t matter how hard you steel yourself, or how long you’ve been doing the job. You never get used to it, and you never grow completely numb. Imagine getting 12 cats in the span of a single day, and having to pick the 12 that have to die so there is enough room to accommodate them. I’ve stopped eating for days. I’ve cried myself to sleep. I’ve grown very disgusted with my fellow man.
Now on top of all that, imagine doing the job and running into disdainful assholes every single day. People that scoff at your profession as if it’s nothing more than playing dog-catcher. Well-wishers that stand on pedestals moaning about how cruel it all is, but offering nothing more than hot air when it comes to real answers to a very real problem. My personal favorites are the “animal lovers” that fall over themselves to rescue the yorkshire terriers and miniature pinschers that occasionally trickle into the shelter, but never seem to notice the 2+ year old mutt in the adjacent cage that is just as sweet, if not more so than the other dog that has a crowd of willing adopters and a guaranteed ticket out the door. That reminds me, let us not forget about the pool of dimwits that only support no-kill shelters, and continually ask why the municipal shelter you work at isn’t no-kill as if it were as simple as flipping a fucking switch. (Protip: It’s easy to label yourself no-kill when you can pick and choose what comes in, and shut your doors on a whim)
– shadow_kick
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