My critic knows me and pushes me. To do more, to be more, but also to doubt and loathe myself
“Use my name.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“D-u-d-i,” he spelled it out for me.
We were eating at a friend’s house and their shanah rishonah couple was there too. I’ve met their new son-in-law a few times, and he never fails to make me laugh — and cringe.
“Someone should write an article about me. I’m an interesting guy and I do a lot of good in the world.”
While I snorted into my vegetable soup, I was also impressed by his brash, straightforward nature. What you see is what you get. He wasn’t couching his words in niceties or false humility. No, he’s a 20-something-year-old kid who thinks it would be cool to have an article written about him, and he said so.
“I’m a diagnosed narcissist,” he said a little later in the conversation.
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