Charming and gregarious, he entertains with stories about his travels near and far, the exotic and mundane with fanciful facts that keep his audience entertained. Like eating bull testicles in China or smoking hashish in Amsterdam, getting a blow-job in Thailand by a prostitute who turned out to be a man. No, that last bit he tells to very few. A homo-phobe at his core. These little tidbits and other oddities are the scripts to his success. “An erudite man. A humorous man. An interesting man,” they all call him. Mr. Wonderful feels certain these tales make him look anything but ordinary. The corporate lawyer of Wall Street by day, he’s become bloated with a self-confidence that’s born out of feeding everyone his lies.
Here’s the secret though. Mr. Wonderful is anything but those accolades. He is nothing but a misogynist. A narcissist and a pathological liar. And the more they believe his lies the more worthless he feels. The more worthless he feels the more twisted and unglued he becomes.
Mr. Wonderful’s real talent though lay in peppering conversations with questions in just the right measure wanting to know all about you and yours, learning far more than you ever fathomed or wanted him to. You’ll tell him everything, of course, all the good, all the bad, and all the really, really, really bad believing he “gets you” and will do you no harm.
No. No. And I’m screaming “NO.” Mr Wonderful will do nothing BUT harm. His mission is to learn about your every need, desire, and longing. Only to claim them for his own and seduce you in return. He’s assessing you. Not for your strengths or scholarly aptitude as he pretends. Noooo he’s looking for the achilles heel, the linchpin to break you down. Then he’ll stick in the knife and prey on your fears which by now he knows intimately.
I know what I’m talking about. I was gaslighted and lied to and then lied to some more until my head was spinning and I just wanted to go home. I was arrested four times, removed from my home and away from my children. I had to pee in a cup randomly for a year after being accused of being an alcoholic, drug addict or both. I was forced to have supervised visitation with my children, one of whom adamantly refused to come. ALL of this based upon lies, lies, and more lies and I’m just getting started.
I’m a nice, kind, sweet Jewish girl from New England who dug up worms next door at Mrs. Satler’s house and believed Charlie, the invisible monkey who hung from our chandelier at dinnertime was real and could only be heard by my father.
When you’re as trusting a person as I am, you want to believe. Be careful, very careful. Don’t believe the lies.
