Narcissist + Triangulation = Chaos

Triangulation, Double-Time

| Narcissist + Triangulation = Chaos, in the Blink of an Eye on St. Patrick’s Day | March 17th, 2018 |

It was the first St. Patrick’s Day I was going to celebrate sober. It was kind-of a somber day, because it reminded me of friends I didn’t talk to any more. I had to work into the evening that day and there didn’t appear to be anything going on with my other friends, anyway, so Tina and I struck out on our own when I finally got home.

We went to Kip’s to see a favorite band of mine. The Tim Malloys played Irish traditional music with a hard rock twist and they’d become something of a tradition for me on St. Paddy’s Day. I thought Tina would enjoy them.

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Kip’s was a pub attached to a Marriott Hotel and there was a ballroom across the hall from the bar. There seemed to be a wedding reception or some other kind of private-ish party going on over there.

The bar was packed, as one might expect. We arrived late into the festivities and the crowd was already well-inebriated. The band had probably exhausted their hits by then and they were playing slower music than I’m used to hearing from them, but Tina and I were having a good time, anyhow.

Tina was drinking whiskeys and beer and I had a couple Red Bulls. Eventually, the energy drinks worked through me and I had to excuse myself to the restroom. There was a bit of a line to get in to the busy lavatory, but it wasn’t extreme. I was gone for maybe 10 minutes, at the very most.

When I caught up to Tina, she was lurking in the hallway between the bar and ballroom. She was peering into the crowd in the pub from aside the doorway as if trying not to be seen by someone.

I sidled up to her and put my arm around her waist. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I’m trying to avoid someone,” she said.

I was only about a quarter as surprised as one might expect. People who frequently decry drama tend to be the drama queens and Tina was such a person. I guess I was inured to it but I was also still compartmentalizing, but looking back, Tina was always stirring pots and poking hornets nests.

“What? Who? Why?” I glanced around instinctively.

“I was dancing with this guy and then his friend… Let’s go out back and have a cigarette,” she said and I followed her through the noisy crowd and down a dark corridor that led to the back patio.

We lit cigarettes and Tina began to relate a very vague and disjointed story that, despite my sobriety, I can’t even clearly recall, because it was so confusing.

What I gathered, was somehow in the five to ten minutes I was away, Tina had managed to dance with two other men who turned out to be friends and worked them into a jealous rage that culminated in a fist fight over her.

There were a lot of Tina’s characteristic de dah de da de dahs where details were elided so I couldn’t really get a grip on the sequence of events that ultimately led to the fight and Tina running away to hide.

After we finished our cigarettes, I refreshed our drinks, but Tina didn’t want to hang about in the pub anymore. She led me across the hall to the ballroom. There was a very different atmosphere in there. People were well-dressed. There were disco lights and a DJ was spinning poppy electronic dance music.

“I want us to go in there and start dancing like total dorks,” she said.

I was game to take Tina up on her dare and we both danced our way in like we owned the place.

That left whatever drama Tina had created in the pub well out of our way.

We danced a couple songs and ended up having a pleasant conversation with a smart-looking couple. The event, whatever it had been, was winding down around and by midnight, everyone was clearing out and the DJ was finished. The pub didn’t have much appeal to either Tina or I, so we made out way home for a record-breaking early ending to a St. Patrick’s Day.

Looking back, it’s impressive, in a way, that within minutes, Tina was able to triangulate two men she’d just met and then, me as well. I imagine there’s quite a lot of narcissistic supply available from people fighting over the narcissist.

Related Story: With Friends Like These


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