On loves that kiss themselves in the mirror

Some loves don’t warm you; they burn you. And speaking of burning, you’re not the one who lights the match; it’s the one who, enamoured with their own reflection, sets you ablaze. One day, you realise that while you only wanted to find warmth in their fire, you’ve turned into ashes. This piece is not a glass of water for those flames; it’s simply a mirror held up to them.

Narcissistic relationships… The name itself sounds like a slap. Hard to pronounce, harder to endure. From the outside, they seem glamorous: charming, confident, someone who knows exactly what they want. But from the inside? That person only wants one thing, themselves. And your desires? Background music to their grand symphony. Imagine being in a relationship where only one of you calls it a relationship. To the other, you’re merely the audience.

These relationships begin like a movie, a blockbuster with high production value, flashy effects, and themselves in the starring role. You’re given a role too: supporting cast. There are romantic scenes, of course; every good script needs some emotion. But the script is always in their hands. Try to improvise, and you’re thrown off set.

A narcissistic lover isn’t in love with you; they’re in love with what you think of them. They don’t love you; they love how much you love them. This isn’t a duet; it’s a monologue. They talk, they laugh, they cry, they narrate. You just nod. Your laughter becomes their stage lighting, your tears, a wet prop on the set.

Let’s add a touch of humour: dating a narcissist is like starring in a movie called “Me & Me: A Tale of Two Mirrors.” When they say, “I love you” in the morning, they’re really talking about what they saw in the mirror earlier. It’s not just a personality disorder; it’s also a one-man theatre show. Tickets sold out, exits hidden...

You give your love, your effort, your understanding. But they read this generosity as “of course they’re giving; I’m worth it.” You don’t even get a thank you. Because in their eyes, gratitude is for people like them, not from them. And eventually, you’re no longer proud of giving selflessly; you’re just exhausted from being drained.

One day, a friend asks: “Are you really happy in this relationship?” You can’t answer. Because you’ve long forgotten the difference between being happy and pretending to be. Their occasional flattery, the rare “What would you do without me?” moment, still gives your shattered heart some hope. Because people are most deceived by hope. And narcissistic love is an expert at producing it, just enough to keep you shackled.

Is there love in this type of relationship? Of course. But it’s a strange love… Like keeping a bird in a cage. You think it’s love because you feed it, talk to it, admire it. But you never let it fly. Love, true love, exists only with freedom. What they feel isn’t love for you; it’s love for the control they have over you, for the echo chamber of admiration.

Being with a narcissist is like searching for your reflection in the mirror and crashing into theirs. You want to say “us,” but they insist on “me.” For them, a relationship is just two-person loneliness. You don’t hold hands; you hold their shadow. Even hugs feel odd, like they’re hugging their own ego through you. And kisses? They're not expressions of love; they’re requests for applause: “Wasn’t that kiss amazing?”

And when it ends? That’s the real nightmare. Leaving a narcissist is fleeing their kingdom. They don’t forget you, not because they loved you, but because you were part of their fanbase. Your departure diminishes their empire. So they chase, not to win you back, but to regain power. They don’t miss you; they miss owning you.

Yet here’s the ironic gift: in a narcissistic relationship, you learn the most. You learn to be patient, to defend yourself, to say no, to draw lines. Most importantly, you rediscover your voice, the one that had been drowned out for so long. And one morning, you wake up and hear a voice that’s finally your own again. “Who am I?” you ask. The answer takes time, but it comes.

Then one day, you look in a mirror. And this time, you don’t just see yourself; you see your journey, your survival, your quiet strength. The lines beneath your eyes are not signs of defeat but of endurance. You realise that loving yourself isn’t narcissism; it’s a necessity. And you can’t love anyone else healthily without it.

In the end, you understand: a narcissistic relationship may have been a fairytale. But in that tale, the prince didn’t kiss the princess; he kissed his own reflection. And now, you’re the protagonist of your own story. No princes, no castles, no towers to be rescued from. Just someone standing on their own feet, pen in hand, writing the next chapter. And that, that is the greatest miracle of all.

With Love and Respect,

Burak Anaturk.

Burak Anaturk is a professional civil engineer. He focuses on sharing lessons from his life experiences, exploring diverse perspectives, and discussing personal development topics.
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