I was a very shy, self-conscious guitar player at the regular jam at the Kensington Deli in Calgary in 1978. Tom was there working on his chops and I asked if I could play along. He had a wife and twin daughters a steady gig running a book store and me for a friend and regular backup.
Like all narcissists, he tubed all that when folks in relationship attempt to deepen relationship by asking for what they want. Overvalue undervalue dump smear. Narcissists have nothing to offer so they make it your fault and split. This is pretty much always devastating, as they are so charming in the overvalue love-bombing stage.
“Hi Jerry, let’s drink!” I don’t drink Tom. Dump smear, I don’t know what happened to his wife and kids after they were dumped, I medicated the pain of abandonment with pot until I learned not to.
In my opinion, he was/is another James Taylor, except Taylor got help for his addictions, like millions of people do every day. Like I did. Then and there with Tom, I made a decision to not be a professional musician because I had to rely on drunks and druggies to collaborate with. I started to work on a way to get to art school. It was/is narcissist hell, but, it is now my studio my decisions my creativity and I made sure as an adult student in lifelong learning that I was/am very well trained. A maestro of old master techniques working in a digital studio.
I hear he’s sober now, probably another 12 step moron.
The last time I saw him was at his regular gig, outside the Ironwood, in the sun, love-bombing a young woman who remained unconvinced, so when I walked up smiled and said I could tell you stories about Tom that could curl your hair she looked relieved at the chance to get away from the burned-out charming drunk trying to sweet-talk her into the sack.
Tom shot me the first honest look I had ever seen him express, pure hate.
It doesn’t matter, with narcissism you have nothing to lose and it ain’t your fault.
Like a rodeo, eh Tom?