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Beware of Eric Swan

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A few months ago, I met a man on Tinder after being single for about two years and finally feeling ready to start dating again. I feel compelled to share my story in hopes of helping others. I’m not a psychologist, so for expert advice on narcissism, I recommend looking into Dr. Ramani’s work. Based on what I’ve learned, he displayed many traits of a Malignant Narcissist.

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For context, he was obsessed with power, owning private jets, and becoming a millionaire. He had a distorted sense of grandiosity, often claiming to know more than others, be smarter than everyone, and that societal rules didn’t apply to him. His views on women were dangerous — he frequently spoke derogatorily about “liberated women,” those who see themselves as equals to their partners. He also expressed negative opinions about LGBTQ couples. He constantly sought external validation, saying things like, “People say I’m smart, handsome, and powerful.”

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Only his version of reality mattered. He routinely gaslit me, invalidated my feelings, and ignored the facts. He would tell me, “You push and do this to yourself.” Any challenge to his ego, like a differing opinion, would trigger a volcanic eruption, leaving me confused. Explosive rage. I often found myself taking the blame and apologizing. He was able to switch his emotions on and off, and he was antisocial, manipulative, insecure, and self-inflated. He would tell me that I was the only woman he had actually “dated or loved,” making me feel beautiful and special.

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When you’re gaslit by a narcissist, it’s easy to blame yourself because they consistently make you feel like you’re the one in the wrong. As Dr. Ramani notes in her article Surviving a Narcissistic Breakup: The Fear and the Reality, the behavior of a narcissist is unchangeable, always leaving you feeling invalidated, dehumanized, and deeply frustrated.

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Here is my story.

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His Tinder profile showcased high-quality photos of him in stylish suits. That was my first mistake — I fell for the image he projected of being successful. We texted for a few weeks, video-chatted, and eventually met in person. Our first date felt like something out of a movie, with a small fair in the background. I hadn’t dated men in over a decade and been single for about two years, so I was eager but a bit rusty. My work and personal life were well- balanced, and I felt ready for a relationship. It seemed serendipitous that we matched, especially since it only happened because I was on a solo trip. My Tinder settings were actually set to exclude anyone outside my area.

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In the early weeks of dating, he spoke in riddles and used tactics to seem mysterious, giving just enough to keep me intrigued. He wasn’t very forthcoming with information. Once, during one of our cryptic conversations, I asked for clarification. He became upset, ended the conversation, and then went silent, ignoring my texts and calls. I felt awful, even though I knew his behavior was immature and unacceptable. That was the first warning sign, and I ignored it.

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When he finally responded, I convinced myself that maybe I was overreacting and should give this “wonderful” relationship a chance. But after a month of spending every weekend together, I noticed he never initiated contact. Yet, when we were together, he was perfect — attentive, affectionate, everything I thought I wanted. When I expressed my concerns, he would go silent again, sometimes for days. I decided to leave the relationship, but he showed up unannounced after a three-hour drive, and everything seemed perfect again. This pattern repeated itself monthly.

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He had grandiose thoughts, believing he was superior — handsome, intelligent, even comparing himself to God, claiming to see and know things others couldn’t. Initially, I mistook his arrogance for confidence. His Tinder profile claimed he had a master’s degree, but later, I found out he barely graduated high school.

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On our dates, he was loving, paid the bill, held my hand, and made me feel safe and cherished. It felt like a fairytale. He told me all the right things, and I believed him.

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For context, he was living in a small business in Shasta County, CA, with no income or stable living situation. He had no contact with his family or children, no friends, and only revealed these details gradually. He often talked about becoming a millionaire and the next Ralph Lauren, though his ideas seemed far-fetched, especially since he had no capital or investors. His clothes were faded and torn, which he claimed was a statement against fast fashion. I even bought him some summer clothes, which he gladly accepted.

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Four months into the relationship, he came to visit and ended up staying permanently, without any prior discussion. I noticed a shift immediately — he no longer offered to pay for anything. We had an international trip planned, and although I had invited him, I expected him to contribute. He only offered a small sum for groceries. He never even said thank you.

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During that trip, we had a miscommunication, partly due to the Global IT Outage. When we got off the plane, we missed our connecting flight. While rushing through the airport, I asked him to slow down and double-check our direction. He became furious, refused to speak to me, and embarrassed me in front of my teenage niece. The drive home was tense; he remained silent despite my attempts to apologize. I suffer from Complex PTSD, and the situation triggered me badly. When we stopped at a gas station, I was overwhelmed and considered leaving, but I had nowhere to go. He finally exploded, insulting me and calling me names. I was in shock — we were that couple, arguing loudly at a gas station.

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We slept in separate beds that night, and the next day, he left to stay with his mom. Days passed before he contacted me. When he returned, there was no apology. We talked, I took the blame, and we went back to our “happy” routine. But I was lying to myself — he wasn’t good to me. Every time I tried to express my feelings, he got defensive, invalidated my concerns, and showed no regard for my well-being. Meanwhile, he was living off me.

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Eventually, I gathered the courage to share my fears in regards to finances. I told him I was worried about becoming the sole provider again, as I had in past relationships. This triggered an angry outburst — he yelled, called me names, and packed his bags to leave. Yet, he came back, and we repeated the cycle.

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Just a week before our relationship ended, he was love-bombing me, telling me how special and powerful I was. Despite everything, I had been journaling, trying to convince myself that this vicious cycle was unacceptable, that I deserved better.

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The final straw came during an argument about social media. He was getting ready to post about his products, using an AI-generated image of a half-naked woman holding one of them. I pointed out that it might alienate potential female customers, including people like me. He got especially defensive when I shared my thoughts on Instagram grids and reels. He lashed out, calling me ignorant and telling me to go back to being miserable. When I defended myself, he doubled down on the gaslighting, telling me to have a “meltdown,” hurt myself, or take a pill. He completely absolved himself of any wrongdoing, as if I had become upset out of nowhere.

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During our arguments, he would provoke me, telling me to hit him. Every time we fought, he blamed me, making me question my future, my identity, and my worth. He built me up only to later put me down. I ignored the little voice in my head telling me to leave. But now, I realize I need to honor that inner voice. He was never safe or caring, and he never acknowledged his part in anything. I’m not saying I played no role — I did, by engaging in his drama. But if you’re always the one taking the blame and trying to make things work, it might be time to step back and check in with yourself.

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He told me he had been successful in the past, and I believed he could do it again. But in reality, during six months of dating, he generated no income, ran back to his mom’s anytime we disagreed, gave me the silent treatment, took no responsibility, and constantly changed his business plans. I later discovered he had two charges for domestic violence one with his ex-wife and one with his ex-girlfriend. He preyed on women with a past of abuse and trauma. I may never know the full story or get closure, and that’s okay.

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In the end, compassion is incomplete if it doesn’t include yourself. I had so much compassion for him, but he had none for me. I justified his behavior because I saw goodness in him — goodness that maybe never existed. Trust your gut. I’ll keep this lesson close, strive to do better next time, and give myself grace for not knowing then what I know now.

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His name is Eric Matthew Swan. He owns Swan Luxury Goods and Swan Productions. He claims to be a spiritual and business expert. He is not. He has no money and lives with his mom. He has a string of failed businesses. He has no training or education. Beware of Eric Swan.