“How can you like yourself just the way you are?” “That’s just what narcissists do. They love themselves more than anything or anyone else. Hate to let you down, but I fit the stereotype magnificently. I’m an underperforming, useless, disappointment.” There’s that bitterness again. There’s so much resentment in his words that I get the feeling he’s stewing on something that has nothing to do with me or my criticism of his behavior. “You’re top of nearly every class. Easy on the self-deprecation there, buddy. Why are you trying to convince me that you’re such a dick?” I reach for the vodka,
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