Why I’m Done Playing by His Rules

Hey guys, it’s Tina.

Let’s be real for a second. We’ve all heard the phrase “love-hate relationship,” right? Usually, people use it for something harmless, like me and carbs, or me and Monday mornings, or me and that one pair of jeans that only fits when I haven’t eaten for three days. It’s supposed to be cute. It’s supposed to be a quirk.

But when you are dealing with a narcissist? That “love-hate” thing isn’t a quirky personality trait. It’s a psychological war zone. It is a battlefield where the rules change every ten minutes, the landmines are hidden in his moods, and you are the only one who didn’t get the memo.

Right now? I’m checking my emotional inventory, doing a little stock-take of my heart, and let me tell you—the Anger and the Hate are winning by a landslide. The “Love” department? It’s boarded up. Closed for renovations. Honestly, it might be condemned.

I’m writing this because I know I’m not the only one staring at a phone screen, blocked (again), realizing that the “love” tank is empty, and all that’s left is the fumes of rage. But here is the lightbulb moment I had today: That rage is actually clarity.

We need to talk—really talk—about how these men operate. Because once you see the playbook, you realize it was never about connection. It was never about building a life. It was always, always about Possession, Shame, and Punishment.

The Psychology of the Block Button

Let’s talk about the blocking. Oh, the absolute, childish drama of it all!

To a normal person, blocking is a nuclear option. It’s a last resort for harassment or safety. To a narcissist? It’s Tuesday. It’s their favorite way to punish you. It’s their version of sending you to your room without supper because you didn’t worship the ground they walked on that morning.

When he blocks you, he isn’t just ignoring you; he’s trying to erase you.

He operates on Possession. In his mind, you aren’t a person with thoughts and feelings; you are an object on his shelf. And when the object stops working the way he wants—when the “toy” talks back—he puts it away in the closet (blocks you) to teach it a lesson. He wants to control the narrative. He wants you to sit in the deafening silence and stew in your own anxiety until you feel small enough to apologize for things you didn’t even do.

He thinks he’s teaching you a lesson. He thinks he’s putting you in the corner. He’s waiting for you to panic, to email him, to call from a friend’s phone, to beg. He feeds on the idea of you falling apart without him. He imagines you crying, desperate for his validation.

But here’s the funny thing happening right now, the plot twist he didn’t see coming: I don’t want to come out of the corner.

In fact, keep me blocked. Lock the door. Throw away the key. Because right now, my desire for anything romantic with this man is at absolute zero. Nada. Zilch. The anger has taken over, and honestly? It feels better than the confusion. It feels safer than the chaos.

The Three Gears of the Narcissist Machine

I’ve been analyzing this toxic merry-go-round we’ve been on, and it’s actually pathetic how predictable it is. It’s a never-ending game of Tit for Tat, and I’m exhausted. But if you strip away the tears and the late-night confusion, you’ll see the pattern. It’s a machine, and it runs on three very specific gears:

1. He Comes Back for the “Love” (The Ego Snack)

He comes back. They always come back, don’t they? But don’t get it twisted—he doesn’t come back because he had an epiphany about what a great woman you are. He doesn’t come back because he missed your laugh, or your cooking, or your kindness.

He comes back because he’s hungry.

He operates on an empty tank. He has no internal self-worth, so he has to siphon it from you. He needs to be adored. He loves the way you make him feel—like a king, like a prize, like the smartest man in the room. He feeds off that energy. He needs you to look at him like he’s the sun, just so he can feel warm. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in your eyes.

That’s the “Love” phase. But it’s not love for you; it’s love for the supply you provide. He loves the mirror, not the person holding it.

2. He Stays Until He Feels the “Hate” (The Guilt Trip)

He hangs around as long as the praise keeps flowing. He’s happy as long as you are the “Cool Girl,” the one who asks for nothing and gives everything.

But the second—the second—you start acting like a human being with memories? The moment you remind him of the pain he caused? The moment you say, “Hey, remember when you lied to me?” or “That really hurt my feelings”?

That is when he feels your “hate.”

Now, you and I know it’s not hate—it’s accountability. It’s hurt. It’s truth. But to a narcissist, accountability feels like a death threat. To him, your pain feels like an attack on his character. He hates the responsibility. He hates looking at you and seeing a mirror of his own bad behavior. He looks at you and sees the woman he hurt, and that makes him feel shame.

And here is the secret: He is terrified of his own shame. He can’t handle it. He can’t process it. So, instead of feeling guilt, he converts it instantly into resentment toward you. He starts to hate you for making him feel bad about himself.

3. He Leaves in “Anger” (The Tantrum)

This is the finale. This is where we are right now. He leaves when you ask for “too much.” And by “too much,” I mean basic decency. Honesty. A text back. An apology that isn’t followed by a “but.”

He leaves in anger because you dared to defy his fantasy. He loves the “adored” version of you—the one who claps for him. But he absolutely hates the reality of who you are—the woman he wronged.

You are living proof of his failures. You are the walking, talking evidence that he is not a good guy. And he can’t stand to be around that evidence. So he gets angry. He punishes you for his own shortcomings. He blocks you to shut off the “bad channel” so he can go back to pretending he’s perfect.

The Exhausting Game of Tit for Tat

It becomes this exhausting game of Tit for Tat. It’s a scorecard where nobody wins, but he insists on keeping score.

• I ask for reassurance; he gives me silence to prove he doesn’t have to answer to anyone.
• I express hurt; he expresses rage that I dared to ruin his mood.
• I try to pull him close; he pushes me away to prove he is independent.
• I pull away to protect myself; he hovers back in to see if he still owns me.
• I tell him the truth; he calls me crazy to invalidate my reality.

He loves the power he feels when I’m angry at his defiance. He gets a kick out of knowing he can disrupt my peace. It validates that he is important. But he hates the shame that comes when I stop playing.

He cannot feel “love” because, deep down, he is absolutely paralyzed by his own shame. It’s that simple. He runs from it like it’s a house fire. He cannot connect with me because connecting would mean admitting he’s flawed, and his ego is too fragile for that.

Anger as a Shield

And where does that leave me? It leaves me angry.

For a long time, I thought my anger was a bad thing. I thought it meant I was bitter. I tried to “love him through it.” I tried to be patient. But you know what? Anger is useful. Anger is a shield. Anger is what happens when your self-respect finally wakes up from its coma, looks around at the wreckage, and says, “Enough.”

Anger is the part of you that loves you more than it loves him.

He loves the power of blocking me. He loves thinking I’m over here falling apart, crying into my pillow, wondering what I did wrong. He gets off on my “defiance” because it proves I’m still engaging in the game. It proves he still matters.

But he hates the shame. And you know what scares him more than my anger? My indifference.

The Ultimate Victory: Indifference

So, let him block me. Let him run. Let him play his little games of possession and control. Let him try to punish me with silence. The anger and hate are winning right now, and for the first time in a long time, I feel clear-headed.

I don’t want the romance. I don’t want the breadcrumbs. I don’t want the “I’m sorrys” that disappear the next time his mood swings. I just want the peace that comes when you finally realize you’re fighting with a man who is at war with himself.

I am not a possession to be shelved. I am not a source of supply to be drained. And I am certainly not a punching bag for his unresolved shame.

If he wants to control me, he’s going to have a hard time controlling someone who just doesn’t care anymore. The block button might be his weapon, but my silence? My refusal to chase? That’s my victory.

Until next time, keep your head up, your standards high, and your block list handy.

— Tina