Win at Life
Definition
Conversational narcissism is the habit of steering the conversation back to yourself, often without noticing. It can feel like empathy to you, but to the other person, it can land as “I wasn’t really heard.”
What it is – and why it’s useful
You know those chats where you walk away feeling slightly deflated? You were there, you spoke, but somehow the spotlight never quite left the other person. Or you sensed they were waiting for you to finish – so they could continue their thought.
Most of us do this.
It often comes from a decent place. We want to show we understand, perhaps to let the other person know they are not alone. Sometimes we are enthusiastic, nervous, uncomfortable with silence, or keen to prove we have something useful to offer. So we reach for the nearest matching story from our own life: “I can totally relate to that.”
The problem is that matching is not always listening.
If someone says, “I’m exhausted,” and we reply, “Me too, I barely slept last night,” we may think we are building common ground. But if we do it too quickly, we have moved the emotional spotlight. The other person has offered us a thread, and instead of following it, we have tied it to our own jumper.
That does not make us awful. It makes us human, slightly labrador puppy-excited, and sometimes a bit rubbish at just listening.
Sociologist Charles Derber coined the term in the 1980s to describe how everyday conversations tilt towards “the self”. It isn’t a psychological diagnosis or personality disorder. It’s a social behaviour pattern, something people do, not something they are.
The term sounds more dramatic than it is. This isn’t the same as Narcissistic Personality Disorder, a recognised mental-health diagnosis. Conversational narcissism is far more everyday: a social reflex, not a psychological condition. It’s what happens when genuine attempts to connect veer off into self-reference.
When someone shares something, we often want to relate, reassure, or join in. It’s meant as a connection, but it can come across as a comparison or even competition. The focus shifts unintentionally, and the other person stops feeling heard.
The Two Response Styles
Derber identified two common response styles, which he called shift responses and support responses.
A support response gives the other person a little more room. It says, in effect, “Stay there. I’m with you. Tell me more.”
Support responses:
The focus stays with them.
“Nightmare. That sounds hard. What happened next?”
A shift response says, “I recognise this, and here is my version.”
Shift responses:
You redirect the focus to yourself.
“Oh my God, that happened to me as well.”
Both can be useful, but timing matters. A support response helps someone continue. A shift response can build connection too, but if you move into a shift response too quickly, the other person may never get to finish what they were actually trying to say.
Too many shift responses can leave people feeling dismissed, unseen, or subtly competed with. The dialogue can start to shut down rather than helping the other person open up. You get polite, surface-level exchanges instead of conversations that actually move things forward.
This isn’t about being self-absorbed or selfish. Most conversational narcissists (by which I mean all of us, at some point) aren’t aware they’re doing it. They’re trying to connect. Knowing the pattern helps you stop defaulting to your own creaky knee or difficult teenager and, instead, stay with the other person long enough to support them.
Real-life examples
The well-meaning friend
You mention that work has been an utter nightmare. Seconds later, you’re hearing about their week, their stress, and how their manager is the worst ever. They’re trying to show empathy by relating. You still walk away feeling unheard.
The team leader
A colleague shares an idea in a meeting. You jump in with your version, how you handled something similar, and where it could go next, or that you’d been thinking the same thing. The vibe gets awkward, the idea fizzles. Later, you notice they’ve stopped bringing suggestions to meetings. You meant to add value, but it backfired.
The partner at home
One of you shares a problem. The other offers advice or says, “I know exactly what you mean, that’s what I’ve been dealing with for months,” and launches into their story. It comes from a good place, but it cuts off the listening.
A moment for connection becomes a hunt for solutions, and nobody feels closer.
Why it matters
Feeling heard is central to psychological safety in families, friendships, and teams. When people feel genuinely listened to, conversations tend to become less defensive and more collaborative.
In leadership, it’s the difference between compliance and commitment.
People follow instructions when they have to.
They follow leaders when they feel heard and understood.
In personal relationships, it’s the difference between communication and connection.
You can’t feel known if you’re being compared, however kindly.
There is also a small trust cost. If someone shares something vulnerable and we repeatedly turn it back towards ourselves, they learn to offer less. Not necessarily in a dramatic way. They may still chat, joke, update you, and send the odd photo of a dog wearing sunglasses. But the deeper material starts going elsewhere.
That is often how closeness fades. Not through one terrible conversation, but through lots of tiny missed bids for attention, care, and understanding.
Recognising conversational narcissism gives you a connection superpower. You start listening for meaning instead of waiting, coiled, ready to pounce on the next moment to jump in.
Try this today
In your next conversation, imagine your only job is to understand them. Not to match their story or fix it, simply to get it. Use the nods, “yeses”, “oh nos”, and follow-ups that show you’re present.
Count how many times you’re tempted to reply with your own example. Swap even one of those for a question that keeps the focus with them:
- “What happened next?”
- “How did that feel?”
- “Is there anything you need?”
Notice whether the tone changes. Conversations often become calmer, deeper, richer, and more memorable when people feel genuinely heard.
Some things to think about
- When do you tend to relate instead of listen?
- Do you talk to connect, or to be understood?
- How does it feel when someone listens without turning it into their story?
- Who makes you feel heard, and what do they do differently?
Optional challenge
Pick one conversation today where you consciously avoid using “I” for the first five minutes. Let the other person fully unfold their story.
Notice what happens to the rhythm of the conversation, the trust and the quality of what they share. Then reflect: how did it feel to be the listener, not the responder?
If you’re already good at this, notice how well people respond in your conversations.
A Buddh-ish take
“When you talk, you are only repeating what you already know. But if you listen, you may learn something new.” – Dalai Lama
Listening without bringing ego isn’t passive. It is being present.
It’s how you move from wanting to be interesting to wanting to understand. Ironically, that tends to make you endlessly interesting.
That small shift from self to awareness is what turns communication into connection and makes you the person people want to be around.
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References
Derber, C. (1979). The Pursuit of Attention: Power and Ego in Everyday Life. Oxford University Press.
Tannen, D. (1990). You Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation. William Morrow.
Additional discussion: Harvard Business Review (2018). “What Great Listeners Actually Do.”