Sociopath is a big word. We shy away from the idea because it sounds like a movie not real life. Taking a second look at this can save us lots of pain.
Dating a sociopath is something I’ve done a lot of. I never knew this until I married one. After the big-whammy experience with the con man sociopath who hijacked me for a green card in marriage fraud, and after really grasping how their little minds operate and their quirks and foibles, I know: I’ve dated a sociopath more than once.
Now I know I’ve dated one of these weirdo-s twice. Briefly. And about eight, all told have tried to get into my life. One of them got me into a legal marriage. Chances are, you might have known some as well. And, maybe like me, you went beyond dating a sociopath and married one.
They Say One in 25 People is a Sociopath: One in Every Classroom
After the harrowing hideous entanglement and then the restoration of my life after the dirt-bag who hijacked me for a green card, I now know I came across a sociopath for one of the first times in my life in grade school. He was ten years old, and so was I. We were in the 5th grade.
He was super gross. Nobody liked him. He was tough and mean and didn’t fit the profile of that charming sociopath we read about at all. – But maybe crafting that smoothie exterior comes later in life for these creatures.
I was plagued by his attention. What I didn’t yet know was, there’d been a bet or a joint plot or some such heinous thing among complicit classmates that he could grab me and kiss me on the playground. Where the heck were the adults…?
The Moment of Attack Sharpens Small Detail
As it goes down, I suddenly realize I’m all alone, sitting on a swing. There’s nobody else playing, no balls bouncing, no laughing… And no one near me. It dawns on me that the entire 5th and 6th grade are divided into two camps on opposite sides of the blacktop.
The optics of the scenario stretch and pull as they do in moments of impending doom. I see or sense one band of kids far, far away in a corner of the now ghostly playground, hovering in a flock by one of the outbuildings.
A Laser Point of Focus
The more nearby knot of whispering, heaving-with-excitement 10-year-olds backs further away as a lone figure slithers towards me. In this moment, the classical traits of the snake-like qualities of a sociopath shimmer off of this kid who’s now in the way-too-near-me horizon.
The dirty-haired, pale-skinned predator floats up like on a Z-axis camera dolly, sliding into close-up position. His mouth, open in anticipation or in order to breathe.
Emanating from him, some super-human honing device sucked at me, aligning my body with my soul still inside it right into his orbit. That sensation of two magnets coming together on the right side or the wrong side; will they click and snap together, or hurl away in violent refusal?
Primal Defenses Kick In: Trust Your Gut
Brave little me looks the prepubescent beast straight in his eyes. At the millisecond I registered his leer, his curled lip revealing tiny, pointy yellowish teeth, my right arm pulls itself back, my hand in a rock-hard fist ready to smash his face. – Something I’d never done in my life.
In addition to being deceptive about who they are and about their intention in our lives, sociopaths don’t heed the natural and normal boundaries we have and that we expect others to have.
His eyes open wide from the slits of a hunter; shock replaces the cocky, shit-bag expression on his ugly freckled face. He leans back from his waist and comes closer all at once. He hisses through a clenched jaw, threatening: Don’t you hit me. – I didn’t.