She was very young. He was very young. They were very much in love, so they eloped.
But her overtly, in-your-face, textbook narcissistic Daddy was not pleased. Hell no! He didn’t get to enjoy the power play of being asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He didn’t get to give the nervously perspiring suitor the “once over” and the “lecture.” He didn’t get to plan the biggest, fanciest wedding ever seen. He didn’t get to have fresh Botox in preparation for his big day, I mean, his daughter’s big day. He didn’t get to bask in the admiration of all the eyes watching him walk down the aisle…oh, with his daughter on his arm. He didn’t get to show off his moves on the dance-floor during the reception…with his daughter.
Hell no! Daddy was not pleased at all.
Seven years later, the marriage is over. And Daddy don’t mind a bit.
Here’s my Post Mortem of yet another marriage destroyed by narcissism. Of course, I might be all wet, but c’mon! It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what happened.