No kids please, we're selfish

[mawilson 2,133]

I've been wanting to post this article for a while - now seems like a good time.

I highlighted the parts that resonate with me the most.

Warning: it's LONG (but a very interesting read)

--mawilson

No kids please, we're selfish

The population is shrinking, but why should I care, says Lionel Shriver.

Saturday September 17, 2005

The Guardian

Meet the Anti-Mom. A story of motherhood gone dreadfully wrong, my seventh novel,

We Need To Talk About Kevin, has drawn fire from Catholic websites for being hostile

to "family", while grotesque distortions of the book's underlying theme ("It's all right to

hate your own child, and if they turn out badly it's not your fault") have spored from

article to article like potato blight. Devastated mothers send me confiding letters detailing

horror stories of offspring just like the wicked boy in my book. Women who'd declined to

have children flock to my readings, raising the novel as proof they were right.

Yet even as "Kevin" won the Orange Prize in July, when my role as poster-girl for

"maternal ambivalence" jacked up yet another power, something strange was starting to

happen. I sometimes departed from script. When a Sunday Times reporter (who clearly

thought me a chilly, arrogant creep) asked if I didn't think that declining to reproduce

was essentially "nihilistic", I piped readily, "Of course." And when a reporter from

Birmingham asked tentatively in a phone interview, "Wasn't refusing parenthood a little

... selfish?" I bellowed into the receiver, "Absolutely!" The truth is, I had started to feel guilty.

Childless at 48, I'm now old enough for the question of motherhood to have become merely

philosophical. Still, I've had all the time in the world to have babies. I am married. I've

been in perfect reproductive health. I could have afforded children, financially. I just didn't

want them. They are untidy; they would have messed up my flat. In the main, they are

ungrateful. They would have siphoned too much time away from the writing of my precious

books.

Nevertheless, after talking myself blue about "maternal ambivalence", I have come full circle,

rounding on the advice to do as I say, not as I did. I may not, for my own evil purposes,

regret giving motherhood a miss, but I've had it with being the Anti-Mom, and would like to

hand the part to someone else.

Allusion to Europe's "ageing population" in the news is now commonplace. We have more and

more old people, and a dwindling number of young people to support them. Not only healthcare

and pension systems but the working young will soon be overtaxed, just to keep doddering

crusties like me alive. Politicians sensibly cite age structure when justifying higher rates of

immigration, and not only because Europeans so fancy themselves that they refuse to clean

toilets. Even if the job appealed, there are already too few of the native-born of working age

to clean all those toilets.

Yet curiously little heed is paid to why the west is "ageing". Our gathering senescence is

routinely discussed as an inexorable force of nature, a process beyond our control, like the

shifting of tectonic plates or the ravages of a hurricane. To the contrary, age structure is

profoundly within human control. Remarkably resistant to governmental manipulation, it is

the sum total of millions of single, deeply private decisions by people like me and a surprisingly

large number of people I know.

We're not having kids.

Western fertility started to dive in the 70s - the same era when, ironically, the likes of

alarmist population guru Paul Ehrlich were predicting that we would all soon be balancing on

our one square foot of earth per person, like angels on the head of a pin. Numerous factors

have contributed to the Incredible Shrinking Family: the introduction of reliable contraception,

the wholesale entry of women into the workforce, delayed parenthood and thus higher

infertility, the fact that children no longer till your fields but expect your help in putting a

downpayment on a massive mortgage.

Yet all of these contributing elements may be subsidiary to a larger transformation in western

culture no less profound than our collective consensus on what life is for.

Statistics are never boring if you can see through the numbers to what they mean, so bear

with me. The Total Fertility Rate (TFR) is the number of children the average woman will

bear over her reproductive lifetime. The TFR required to maintain a population at its current

size is 2.1. ( It takes two children to replace the mother herself and her partner; the .1 allows

for the fact that, in a fraction of births, the baby will not survive.) Higher than the European

average, the UK's TFR is 1.7. Yet that's well below replacement-rate, so the seven million

extra Britons predicted by 2050 will almost entirely comprise immigrants and their children.

The figures on the continent are even more striking. Italy, Greece and Spain, countries once

renowned for their family orientation, all have a meagre TFR of 1.3, as does Germany, where

a staggering 39% of educated women are having no children whatsoever. The cumulative TFR

for all of Europe is only 1.4, expected to translate into a net loss of 10% of the population by

2050, by which time eastern Europe is likely to experience a population decrease of 22%.

By 2000, 17 European countries were recording more deaths than births, and without

immigration their populations would already be contracting.

Elsewhere, couples still heed the Biblical admonition to be fruitful and multiply. Niger, currently

suffering from famine, has the highest TFR in the world at 8.0. By 2050, Yemen - a little

smaller than France - is projected to have increased its 1950 population by 24 times,

exceeding the population of Russia. At 3.0 (3.5 without China), the poor nations' TFR is twice

that in the wealthy west, and these countries will provide virtually all of the extra three billion

people expected to visit our planet by mid-century.

As for what explains the drastic disparity between family size in the west and the rest, sure, we

have readier access to contraception. But medical technology is only one piece of the puzzle.

During the industrial revolution of the 19th century, fertility rates in the west plunged in a

similar fashion. This so-called "demographic transition" is usually attributed to the conversion

from a rural agrarian economy to an urban industrialised one, and thus to children's shift from

financial asset to burden. But what is fascinating about the abrupt decrease in family size at the

turn of the last century is that it was accomplished without the pill. Without caps, IUDs,

spermicides, vaginal sponges, oestrogen patches or commercial condoms. Whether through

abstinence, backstreet abortion, infanticide or rhythm, people who couldn't afford more children

didn't have them. Therefore the increased availability of reliable contraception around 1960 no

more than partially explains plummeting birth rates thereafter. The difference between Germany

and Niger isn't pharmaceutical; it's cultural.

I propose that we have now experienced a second demographic transition. Rather than

economics, the engine driving Europe's "birth dearth" is existential.

To be almost ridiculously sweeping: baby boomers and their offspring have shifted emphasis

from the communal to the individual, from the future to the present, from virtue to personal

satisfaction. Increasingly secular, we pledge allegiance to lower-case gods of our private

devising. We are less concerned with leading a good life than the good life. We are less likely

than our predecessors to ask ourselves whether we serve a greater social purpose; we are

more likely to ask if we are happy. We shun values such as self-sacrifice and duty as the pitfalls

of suckers. We give little thought to the perpetuation of lineage, culture or nation; we take our

heritage for granted. We are ahistorical. We measure the value of our lives within the brackets

of our own births and deaths, and don't especially care what happens once we're dead. As we

age - oh, so reluctantly! - we are apt to look back on our pasts and ask not 'Did I serve family,

God and country?' but 'Did I ever get to Cuba, or run a marathon? Did I take up landscape

painting? Was I fat?' We will assess the success of our lives in accordance not with whether

they were righteous, but with whether they were interesting and fun.

If that package sounds like one big moral step backwards, the Be Here Now mentality that has

converted from 60s catchphrase to entrenched gestalt has its upside. There has to be some

value to living for today, since at any given time today is all you've got. We justly cherish

characters capable of fully inhabiting "the moment", of living, as a drummer might say, "in the

pocket". We admire go-getters determined to pack their lives with as much various experience

as time and money provide, who never stop learning, engaging, and savouring what every day

offers - in contrast to dour killjoys who are resentful and begrudging as they bitterly do their

duty. For the role of humble server, helpmate and facilitator no longer to constitute the sole

model of womanhood surely represents progress for which I am personally grateful. Furthermore,

prosperity may naturally lead any well-off citizenry to the final frontier: the self, whose borders

are as narrow or infinite as we make them.

Yet the biggest social casualty of Be Here Now is children, who have converted from obligation

to option, like heated seats in the car. In deciding what in times past was never a choice, we

don't consider the importance of raising another generation of our own people, however we

might choose to define them. The question is whether kids will make us happy.

However rewarding at times, raising children can be also hard, trying and dull, inevitably

ensnaring us in those sucker-values of self-sacrifice and duty. The odds of children making you

happier are surely no better than 50-50. A few years ago the New York Times published the

results of a study that found the self-reported "happiness" index was lower among parents than

the childless. Little wonder that so many women have taken a hard look at all those nappies,

play groups, nasty plastic toys and said no thanks.

To illustrate my "existential" explanation for Europe's knee-high birth rate, let's look at three

women like me, and why they haven't had children. These are all women (whose names are

changed to protect their privacy) whom I admire, and whose company I treasure. In a word,

they're my friends. Nevertheless, in sufficient aggregate, we are deadly.

At 44, Gabriella is an accomplished journalist who has written two acclaimed non-fiction books

on Africa. She is bright, widely travelled, well educated and physically fetching, with a

distinctive acerbity and a candour unusual for her British upbringing. She is half Italian on

her mother's side.

Gabriella was negative about childbearing from the get-go: "I was someone who loathed the

onset of sexual maturity. Menstruation, pregnancy - all these biological processes that you

couldn't control, which caught you unawares and seemed designed to embarrass you in public -

felt like a baffling, humiliating negation of my existence as a thinking, reasoning adult." By her

20s, her hostility had hardened. "As a young woman I remember being astonished to meet

contemporaries who had decided to have children within years of leaving university. It seemed

nonsensical. Here we were, just emerged from the tedious constraints of a seemingly endless

education, financially independent for the first time, tasting our liberties at last, and the first

thing they decided to do was to enter the prison of childrearing, with all its boring routines and

dreadful responsibilities. Having children in my 20s would have spelled the end of everything

I had spent my life working towards and was about to really enjoy: the ability to spend my

money the way I wanted, travel where I wanted, choose my partners, live as I wished."

By her late 30s, however, Gabriella had misgivings. Friends were having children, and she felt

left out. Encountering other people's children, she realised "there were great joys to be had

from the process" and that "watching something [to non-parents, children are often mistaken

for objects] growing and changing each day was also an intellectually intriguing process". Ergo,

kids just might be interesting and fun. Yet Gabriella's then-partner was an older man averse to

parenthood partially on (sound) medical grounds. At no point did her pining for children become

a make-or-break matter in her relationship, from which we can construe that the pining was

either mild or theoretical. For the most part, "the issue was ignored, avoided, allowed to slide

or used as a bargaining chip when things got difficult." Indeed, when that relationship hit crisis

point and her partner did a U-turn on fatherhood, his offer of a family was insufficient to salvage

it for Gabriella. Happiness, in this case the romantic variety, trumped motherhood, full stop.

Gabriella is now resigned to the fact that she will not have children. "Could I now cope with the

sheer exhaustion of the early sleepless years? Could I accept, as my friends have, that for the

first five years I would stop having interesting conversations with adults my own age and settle

for the glaze-eyed exchanges I've witnessed as an outsider?"

When I ask what she believes redeems her life in the absence of children, her answers are

unhesitating. "Firstly, my work. Not in the sense of ambition and earning power (ha ha), but in the

sense that the only imprint I can leave on this earth is my work. My motto, as the years go by,

has become that of Voltaire's Candide: 'Il faut cultiver notre jardin.' We need to tend the garden.

Do it as well as you can. Writing is my only skill; I apply it to the best of my abilities." Secondly,

"I live for friendships and family. I have friendships that have gone on for so long and have been

so close that I suppose they constitute a form of marriage."

On her own account, she has no regrets. "Had I had children, I would have written no books, nor

would I have been a particularly successful journalist. I certainly wouldn't have gone off to Africa.

I'd rather pine for children than die saying to myself, 'I could have been a contender.' I was a

contender."

Nevertheless, in the larger social picture, Gabriella concedes, "If people like me don't reproduce,

civilisation may be the worse for it. On both my mother's and my father's sides, I come from

generations of academics, historians, diplomats - thinkers and doers - and as the years go by I begin

to see that, far from being an exception or maverick, I am, in fact, the very obvious carrier of a

certain genetic inheritance. I am a typical product of my family; I can see the thread stretching back

through the generations. Do I think it's a shame that this genetic inheritance won't continue? Yes, I do.

I'm arrogant enough to think that the world will be a poorer place without my genes in it. But the fact

is that I don't care enough to do anything about it. There wasn't time to do that and the other things

on my list."

When I press her on the implications of a contracting European population, she readily concurs

that "many western cities will be largely black/ Hispanic/Asian in 50 years' time. Does that bother

me? Well, I vaguely regret the extinction of gene lines that in their various ways played a part

in the establishment of western civilisation. But the gene lines coming in from the developing world

will have their own strengths, energies and qualities."

Last, and this is the sort of statement that many a childless woman - or man, for that matter - of

my generation might honestly make, but that you will rarely read: "I'm an atheist. I'm a solipsist.

As far as I'm concerned, while I know intellectually that the world and its inhabitants will continue

after my death, it has no real meaning for me. I am terrified of and obsessed with my own extinction,

and what happens next is of little interest. I certainly don't feel I owe the future anything, and that

includes my genes and my offspring. I feel absolutely no sense of responsibility for the propagation

of the human race. There are far too many human beings in the world as it is. I am happy to leave

that task to someone else."

Irish-born Nora, 46, is an events planner who lives in London. She enjoys her work, in which

she is renowned for her effectiveness and good humour, but she places equal emphasis on

after-hours. She maintains a large, lively set of friendships, and regularly partakes of the city's

concerts, films and plays. She's sharp, droll and quick-witted.

Astonishingly, Nora and all five of her Irish siblings have neglected to reproduce: "Each of us is

quite independent, with goals that were more immediate and career-oriented than children."

Unlike Gabriella, through young adulthood Nora always assumed she would have children. Yet she

is romantically fastidious and wilful. Though she admits, "I went through a phase when I was

coming up to 30 when I got very depressed because it appeared to me highly unlikely that I would

have children", motherhood "was never so important to me as to compromise on the man". As

smart, appealing women, both Nora and Gabriella might surely have had families were they willing

to marry Mr Not Quite Right, but kids weren't important enough. Once again, personal happiness

trumps kids.

Nora grants she's "a bit" regretful, although "as I grow older, I feel a greater need for solitude,

and for 'me-time'. Perhaps it's work that does it - being responsible for 10 staff and having

a fairly 'open-door' policy makes me delight in going home, closing the door and relishing the

peace." A holiday to Canada with her godson was sobering. "Yes, he's great - funny, intelligent,

well-mannered, interested - but I felt that the responsibility of taking him into bear country

was huge. A metaphor for life, perhaps?"

Nora's maternal regrets are skin deep. "I think I have a lovely life. I can see myself

continuing to have fun, to enjoy my job, to meet interesting people, to go on great holidays, to

read interesting books, to support my family and friends." (Note that I did not plant the words

"fun" and "interesting" in my interviewee's mouth.) When I ask what she sees as redeeming her

life, she balks. "I think that's a very Protestant question! I'm not sure my life needs redemption.

Maybe I'm too much of a hedonist."

Still Nora sorrows, "I think my parents came from an excellent gene pool, and it's a shame

that, to date, that hasn't been passed on." Though she has many cousins, the loss of the

combined heritage of her particular parents is "a sadness". As for perpetuating her ethnicity,

her parents both taught Irish, and she has "a mother tongue that is under threat. But in the

wide scheme of things, I am conscious that languages disappear every year." We are of a

generation grown accustomed to loss - of habitat, wilderness, biodiversity, fish. Why not

Irish, too?

Be that as it may, at the end of our exchange Nora declares fervently, "You and I should have

had children!" - hastily appending that she meant not for our own sakes, but in social terms.

"We're blessed with brains, education and good health." She admits that the longer our

discourse has continued, "the more I think I am a squanderer of my gifts and my heritage.

But I live in a decadent age where that doesn't seem such a problem. Anyway, devoting my

whole life to promulgating my ethnicity is a big ask."

At only 26, Leslie will have to stand in for the staggeringly numerous younger British women

who have shared with me their lack of enthusiasm for the familial project. Leslie is a publicist

for a small literary publishing company, to which she is devoted. She's very good at her job.

Her sunny, perky quality provides a welcome counterpoint to my jaded older friends, and

she's optimistic about the future - hers, that is.

Leslie does not want children. "When I think about my future, I envisage the fulfilment of

ambitions such as travelling and furthering my career, not having babies. I can't imagine

I will be able to give up the lifestyle I lead to become a parent. I would like to spend time

working and travelling abroad. Financial independence is very important to me, as is retaining

my own independence in any relationship. Something would have to give in order to properly

care for a child, and unfortunately it's most often the mother who has to forego some aspect

of her life."

When I ask her, an only child, if it matters to her whether she carries on the family line, she

says, "It's not really something I've thought about."

On the other hand, Leslie offers evidence that Be Here Now - living for the present - is not

always morally arid. "I certainly don't see my purpose as being to perpetuate the human

race. What makes my life worth living for me - and what, I think, redeems my life - is my

relationships and interaction with others, be they family, friends, lovers, colleagues, total

strangers. I think what redeems individuals is their acts of humanity."

Like most of her generation, Leslie isn't concerned with maintaining the Anglo-Saxon identity

of Britain. "Is there any true British race now, anyway? I think it's far too late to start

worrying about its preservation at this stage." She has embraced multiculturalism, and faces

the prospect of western cities going majority-minority with cheer. "Most of my friends are

from different ethnic backgrounds, and I feel lucky to live in London, a city full of such

diverse cultures, religions and races. I think diversity adds to British culture rather than

destroys it."

As for whether she worries that she might regret giving motherhood a miss, Leslie would

subject the decision to one test only: whether she might be "discontented" in future. "But then

who's to say that I would feel more content if I did have children?"

Contentment. Happiness. Satisfaction. Fun. There's nothing, strictly speaking, wrong with

these concerns, but they are all of a piece. They fail to take into account that our individual lives

are tiny beads in a string. Our beloved present is merely the precarious link between the

past and the future - of family, ethnicity, nation and species. We owe our very contentment -

which Hurricane Katrina reminds us heavily relies on potable water and toilets - to the

ingenuity of our ancestors, yet it rarely seems to enter the modern childfree head that

proper payback of that debt might entail handing the baton of our happy-happy heritage on

to someone else.

There is no generalisation in this article, no matter how harsh, that would not apply to me.

I care about my own life in the present. I think I should be, but - doubtless because I don't

have children - I'm honestly not very fussed about what happens after I die. I'm proud of the

Shriver family, but not enough to help to ensure that it outlasts me. As Nora pointed out, my

genes are swell. But like my friends', my sorrow at not having passed them on is vague, thin

and abstract, and no match for Be Here Now. I fancy I work very hard; in socially crucial

respects, I am lazy. Like Gabriella's, my stunted progeny are eternally 8in high and made of

pulped trees, and if they keep me up at night I can quiet them by rewriting a lousy chapter

in the morning. If I feel, oh, a little wistful about the fact that my country of birth, the US,

will within my lifetime no longer be peopled in majority by those of European extraction

(I'm German-American on both sides), that passing dismay has never been considerable

enough for me to inconvenience myself with giving lifts to football practice. Frankly, if I can't

be arsed to replace myself with a reasonable facsimile, immigrants willing to nurse sick little

boys through their fevers have truly earned the right to take my place.

Of course, that "wistfulness" is political dynamite. Yet maybe the multiculturalism debate is

sufficiently matured for us to concede that white folk are people, too. We encourage minorities

of every stripe to be proud of their heritage - Jamaicans, Muslims, Jews - as well they should be.

We don't assume that if an immigrant from China cherishes his roots and still makes a mean

moo shoo pork he is therefore bigoted toward every other ethnicity on the planet. So can

Italians not champion Italianness? Or the British their Yorkshire pudding? Indeed, the tacit

consensus - that every minority from Australian aboriginals to Romany should be treasuring,

preserving and promulgating their culture, while white Europeans should not - is producing a

virulent, sometimes poisonous rightwing backlash across the continent, and a gathering

opposition to the immigration that Europe sorely needs if it is to maintain itself economically.

In the interest of civil, rational thinking on this matter, we should at least allow ourselves to talk

about it. The long-dominant populations in most of Europe are contracting, and maybe by the

time they're minorities in their own countries they will have rights, too - among them at least

the right to feel a little sad.

Meanwhile, as the west's childless have grown more prevalent, the stigma that once attached

to being "barren" falls away. Women - and men, too - are free to choose from a host of

fascinating lives that may or may not involve children, and across Europe couples are opting

for the latter in droves. My friends and I are decent people - or at least we treat each other

well. We're interesting. We're fun. But writ large, we're an economic, cultural and moral disaster.

There has to be something wrong when spurning reproduction doesn't make Gabriella and

me the "mavericks" that we'd both have fancied ourselves in our younger days, but standard

issue for our age. Surely the contemporary absorption with our own lives as the be-all and

end-all ultimately hails from an insidious misanthropy - a lack of faith in the whole human

enterprise. In its darkest form, the growing cohort of childless couples determined to throw

all their money at Being Here Now - to take that step-aerobics class, visit Tanzania, put an

addition on the house while making no effort to ensure there's someone around to inherit the

place when the party is over - has the quality of the mad, slightly hysterical scenes of gleeful

abandon that fiction writers craft when imagining the end of the world.

Not to disparage old people, but "senescent" is not a pretty word. Large sectors of western

population have broken faith with the future. In the Middle East, birth rates are still sky-high,

whereas Europeans, Australians and many European-Americans cannot be bothered to

scrounge up another generation of even the same size, because children might not always be

interesting and fun, because they might not make us happy, because some days they're a

pain in the bum. When Islamic fundamentalists accuse the west of being decadent, degenerate

and debauched, you have to wonder if maybe they've got a point.

[MissStacey 1]

My reasoning:

I'm just not ready to know what an 8 pound baby feels like coming out of my #######.

[one...two...tree 2,762]

Holy cow, Mark - can you send me the audio on CD?

I think regardless of whether someone wants kids or not - the notion is that we don't center our lives entirely on our own self interests. Marriage, IMO is about thinking about someone else and sometimes putting them first. We've lost some progress when people start believing that narcism is the way to personal growth.

[Jasman0717 9]

I haven't read that much since I left college

[almaty 19]

brother ma, tell the truth, that was your college thesis...

brother ma, tell the truth, that was your college thesis...

[Alex+R 0]

We've lost some progress when people start believing that narcism is the way to personal growth.

I think that is what the author was implying.

[Jenn! 918]

Not everyone can be a great parent. Some people know themselves better than others.

[Alex+R 0]

I want to meet that woman Gabriella. I think we would get along very well.

[almaty 19]

Narcissism.......

at least 5..

1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

4.requires excessive admiration

5.has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends

7.lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

8.is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

9.shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

[brnidokiegurl 1]

theres no book of guidelines to be the better parent. The idea of the larger families goes back to days when people had alot of kids to help tend the fileds and farms. Then there are those that believe they are a gift and do nothing to prevent the births. It will just be a individual choice...you might think you wont be a good parent and be the best or you might think you can handle it and find you cant....there are no secrets. But if your not ready to share your entire life, time, money, etc better think on it a little more.

[mawilson 2,133]

Narcissism.......

at least 5..

1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

4.requires excessive admiration

5.has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends

7.lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

8.is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

9.shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Oh my God. That's just.......me, me, me, me and me!

[Mags 112]

I had my son 13 years ago and can, resolutely, say that parenthood isn't for me. I love my son and he is well cared for, but I would IN NO WAY want any more. Ever.

[almaty 19]

Narcissism.......

at least 5..

1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

4.requires excessive admiration

5.has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends

7.lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

8.is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

9.shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Oh my God. That's just.......me, me, me, me and me!

i knew that..that's why i like you

[Mags 112]

Narcissism.......

at least 5..

1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

4.requires excessive admiration

5.has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends

7.lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

8.is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

9.shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Oh my God. That's just.......me, me, me, me and me!

Really? Hadn't noticed....

[Alex+R 0]

Narcissism.......

at least 5..

1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

3. believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

4.requires excessive admiration

5.has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations

6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends

7.lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others

8.is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her

9.shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Oh my God. That's just.......me, me, me, me and me!

Really? Hadn't noticed....

But we love him anyway. Even though sometimes I need to beat him up with words.