18.10.2020 Modern Love: He Married a Sociopath. Me.

- The New York Times

https://nyti.ms/3nROSFL

MODERN LOVE

He Married a Sociopath: Me
As a wife and a mother, I have learned how to tell the truth. Which is why I always know when my husband is lying.

By Patric Gagne

Oct. 16, 2020

My husband was trying to tell me I was “the only one” for him.

“Don’t lie to a liar,” I said.

It wasn’t a very romantic reply, I’ll admit. But I’m not a romantic. I’m a sociopath.

My husband knows this, of course. As for me, I knew as early as age 7 that I wasn’t like other children. I didn’t care about
things the way they did. I was a girl (my male-sounding name, Patric, is short for Patricia) who mostly felt nothing. It
wasn’t until college that a therapist told me what I had long suspected: My lack of emotion and empathy are hallmarks of
sociopathy. A few years later, doctors would confirm my diagnosis.

Human beings aren’t designed to function without access to emotion, so we sociopaths often become destructive in order
to feel things. I used to break into houses or steal cars for the adrenaline rush of knowing I was somewhere I wasn’t
allowed to be — just to feel, period.

It didn’t take long for me to realize this was not an effective life strategy. Rather than risk incarceration (or worse), I used
my diagnosis to fuel my pursuit of a Ph.D. in psychology.

Like many, I gained my first understanding of sociopaths from pop culture, which portrays us as singularly dangerous
and threatening, our flat emotional state and lack of remorse making us unfit for normal life. It wasn’t until I began my
research in graduate school that I learned sociopaths exist along a wide spectrum, like many people with psychiatric
disorders. You’ll find us everywhere in daily life, as your colleagues, neighbors, friends and, sometimes, members of your
own family.

My husband and I dated in high school and found each other again after college. You would think my insincerity,
emotional poverty, absence of shame and guilt, and reduced empathic response wouldn’t exactly land me in the “dream
girl” category. Perhaps because he and I had grown up together and he was already familiar with my “bad” side, he
remained in denial for years about my having any sort of real psychological problem. Nevertheless, 13 years later, we’re
still in love and happily married.

But am I “the only one” for him? Definitely not.

My husband had developed a crush on a female colleague at work. It was obvious, and I understood why. She was
everything I’m not: thoughtful, kind, compassionate. I doubt she ever attempted to choke anyone. Unlike me.

She was socially appropriate at parties, appreciated compliments and affection. Her charm was authentic and her
darkness, if she had any, relatable. Unlike mine. It made sense he would like her. They would make a great pair. So why
wouldn’t he just admit it?

He knew I didn’t take things like this personally. That’s one of the perks of being married to a sociopath: I don’t get
jealous. He knew that if he were to tell me he liked her, I would listen and relate without reaction. I might even end up
helping him shed some of his Catholic-school guilt. All he had to do was be honest.

When you’re a sociopath in a marriage, especially one with children, honesty is critical — even more, I would argue, than
for people in “normal” relationships. As a sociopath, I had difficulty prioritizing telling the truth, but as a wife and a
mother, I forced myself to learn.

Outside of my family, my loyalty to the truth is what has enabled me to connect with other people. As a doctor who
specializes in the research of sociopathy, I prize credibility and integrity as my greatest asset.

Granted, it hasn’t been easy. People claim to want complete honesty from their partner or spouse, but I have found they
aren’t always happy when they get it, especially when that honesty is coming from a sociopath.
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/16/style/modern-love-he-married-a-sociopath-me.html?searchResultPosition=1 1/3
18.10.2020 Modern Love: He Married a Sociopath. Me. - The New York Times

My husband was never thrilled to hear that I had spent the day in a stranger’s house without that person’s knowledge or
committed other misdeeds. But his real anger was reserved for the fact that I never felt guilty about these things.

For my husband, guilt is a driving force. His formative years were shaped by his overbearing and infirm mother. And
then he married someone who seemed immune to it. He wanted to know: Why did I never care what anyone thought?
Why was my behavior never limited by guilt?

For a long time, he was angry. But eventually he began to understand it wasn’t my fault that I was born with a reduced
capacity for remorse. And it wasn’t his fault his mother was so negatively attached.

A few years after we married, with his encouragement, my behavior started to shift. I would never experience shame the
way other people do, but I would learn to understand it. Thanks to him, I started to behave. I stopped acting like a
sociopath.

And thanks to me, he started to see the value in not caring as much about what others thought. He noticed how often guilt
was forcing his hand, frequently in unhealthy directions. He would never be a sociopath, but he saw value in a few of my
personality traits.

He learned to say “no” and mean it, especially when it came to activities he was doing purely out of obligation — family
visits or holiday gatherings he didn’t enjoy but couldn’t decline. He started to recognize when he was being manipulated.
He noticed when emotion was clouding his judgment.

What a pair we are. Certainly, there have been setbacks. He isn’t always patient. I’m not always on my best behavior. And
on those occasions, I leave a token on his desk to let him know when I have been up to no good (minor mischief like
sneaking embarrassing items into a line-cutter’s grocery cart). The token I leave is an innocuous trinket, a Statue of
Liberty figurine from a key chain. Anyone else who saw it wouldn’t think twice. But he knows what it means.

Whenever I leave the figurine on his desk, it means I’ve done something wrong. The second he sees it, he comes to find
me, gives me a kiss and slips it back into my purse. Often, he doesn’t ask what I’ve done, but if he does, he knows he can
trust me to be honest. And I know the same, so I never stray too far outside the lines.

Which is why his denial of his office crush was so confusing.

For the first time in our relationship, it wasn’t my interpretation of the truth that was causing a shift in our marriage; it
was his. Believe it or not, I could appreciate the cause of his dishonesty. On good days, I was almost entertained by it. His
clumsy white lies were like a toddler’s, and nearly as endearing.

On those days I wanted to hug him for being so cute. “You see what you’re doing?” I wanted to say. “You’re not being
honest about your feelings for her. You’re lying. Now, how is this any different from what I used to do?”

And just like that, he would have gotten a lesson in empathy — from a sociopath, no less! And we would have laughed and
understood each other better and gone back to sharing everything. At least I’d like to think so. My husband, after all, was
the one who said we must be honest without exception. And he was the one who insisted I confess to every single thing
every single time. So why wasn’t he playing by the same rules?

I have been forced to come clean about everything, even when — especially when — I don’t want to. It’s hard, frustrating,
confusing and annoying, but I have done it for him, for us! If he wasn’t willing to do the same, then what? Should I leave
him? Go back to being dishonest? Wait for him to leave me?

On bad days, these were the thoughts that dominated. When I couldn’t help but wonder: Is this what fear feels like?

I think it was. My husband was lying to me. Gaslighting me. Sneaking. Acting like a sociopath. And isn’t that how we
sociopaths are defined — as liars without the ability to empathize? On such days, I saw what it must be like to be married
to someone like me. And the irony is almost shimmering.

Still, I couldn’t help but smile thinking of the future, of the days when we would be able to joke about the time we almost
split up because he started acting like a sociopath. And that in doing so, my husband was finally able to teach me the one
thing I have been trying to learn all of my life: empathy.

Patric Gagne is a writer and doctor of psychology from Los Angeles.

Modern Love can be reached at modernlove@nytimes.com.

To find previous Modern Love essays, Tiny Love Stories and podcast episodes, visit our archive.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/16/style/modern-love-he-married-a-sociopath-me.html?searchResultPosition=1 2/3
18.10.2020 Modern Love: He Married a Sociopath. Me. - The New York Times
Want more from Modern Love? Watch the TV series; sign up for the newsletter; or listen to the podcast on iTunes, Spotify or Google Play. We also have
swag at the NYT Store and two books, “Modern Love: True Stories of Love, Loss, and Redemption” and “Tiny Love Stories: True Tales of Love in 100
Words or Less” (available for preorder).

A version of this article appears in print on , Section ST, Page 5 of the New York edition with the headline: He Married a Sociopath: Me

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/16/style/modern-love-he-married-a-sociopath-me.html?searchResultPosition=1 3/3