Hear Me Out: Narcissism is the second-hand smoke of this generation

SINGAPORE – It took me three months after ending a relationship with a man who spoke exclusively in romance-coded K-drama monologues to realise I had been love-bombed.

He would often compare his feelings for me to the heavens – how in a galaxy of billions of stars, we were two cosmic bodies fated to collide.

He was intelligent and charismatic, which masked the indulgent romanticism of his silver-tongued spiels. That and the expensive dinner dates and the occasional poem written on scented paper sucked me into a whirlwind romance I was not expecting.

It all crashed and burned at the six-month mark. When I asked why he wanted to end things, he was suddenly lost for words and blurted out a confounding line: “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Guess the feelings weren’t that celestial after all.

In my post-break-up haze, I spent hours dissecting our full-on-then-abruptly-off dynamic with patient friends, until one of them put a name to what I had experienced: love-bombing.

American clinical psychologist Ramani Durvasula describes love-bombing as “grandiose and attention-getting behaviour that is cinematic and Instagrammable” in her 2019 book, Don’t You Know Who I Am?.

She explains that love-bombers are not just hopeless romantics, but they are also strategic. They shower you with grand declarations, gifts or constant attention to create dependency.

Even the small, seemingly sweet gestures – in my case, pet names by the second date, mapping out our entire future by Week 3 – can be a form of control.

Love-bombing is often associated with narcissism, a behaviour characterised by a need for excessive admiration, lack of empathy and an inflated sense of self-importance.

Looking back, there were red flags I should have noticed. But, as they say, everything is easier in hindsight.

And not long after going down the rabbit hole of narcissism content, and reading everything I could on it, I reflected that such behaviour manifested not just in relationships, but also friendships and even acquaintanceships.

So, maybe the real question is not how I fell for the love-bombing, but why it felt so natural. And what does that feeling of normality say about me, a young millennial pushing 30, and the world I inhabit – that such behaviour no longer feels like the exception, but the rule?

Many clinical studies on narcissism measure qualities such as individualism, self-expression and assertiveness. Ironically, these same traits are now celebrated among my generation.

In this age of Me, we do not just tolerate narcissists, but we also go as far as to glorify them.

Take American rapper Kanye West, American reality star Kim Kardashian and US President Donald Trump – polarising yet wildly successful figures, each with followings in the hundreds of millions.

Social media has only amplified the phenomenon of Me. The online self is highly curated, and every like, share and comment is another nod of validation in a sea of endless want.

Dr Annabelle Chow, principal clinical psychologist at Annabelle Psychology clinic, tells me that everyone sits on a “continuum of narcissism”. There is a healthy amount that constitutes a wholesome level of self-confidence and there is an unhealthy amount that can, for instance, present as manipulative behaviour.

However, as the world becomes increasingly me-centric, the line between healthy and unhealthy levels blurs.

Here is the kicker: When I ask Dr Chow how people can avoid becoming the toxic kind of narcissists, she says: “Ah, but you assume people want to be less narcissistic.”

She is right. The line has blurred so much that narcissism is now taught, caught, repeated and rewarded.

So, the bottom line is two-pronged: Everyone embodies some degree of narcissism and you need not be a narcissist to suffer from it. Like second-hand smoke, it creeps into your lungs whether you lit the cigarette or not.

But if narcissism is the silent toxin of today, how do you detox before you suffocate?

Dr Chow suggests you first hone an awareness towards narcissism. Narcissism can show up as an inability to take criticism constructively or turning your words against you, leaving you more confused than before (gaslighting).

It could also be intentionally refusing to take any discussion further, and meeting efforts to communicate with cold silence (stonewalling).

Not everyone who displays these tendencies is a narcissist. But if there are consistent patterns of toxic behaviour, the next thing to do is set boundaries.

Boundaries look different for everyone, says Dr Chow. Maybe it is limiting communication. Maybe it is engaging differently in conversations. Maybe it is cutting ties completely, like I did post-break-up.

But all this has left me wondering if I, too, am a narcissist. Like many others, I am guilty of posting selfies, curating my social media feeds and thinking (more often than I care to admit) about how I deserve various things – like promotions, higher pay or that new collection of branded bags.

But what sets the narcissist and average person apart is self-awareness and being self-reflective. Narcissists are often incapable of venturing that far into their own vulnerability and psyche.

Ultimately, narcissism is not new; it shows up in every generation. We just happen to have the right cocktail of tools to let it flourish, perhaps like never before.

So, if narcissism is already heavy in the air, then maybe the solution is not to hold our breaths but to exhale differently, to choose connection over curation, and presence over performance.

Of course, it will take some conscious effort to put these words into practice. In the meantime, I will probably be hunched over my laptop after this article goes live, one eye on the view count and the other on comments.

Habits die hard.