“But enough about me, Mrs. Elizabeth. Tell me what you think of me.”
Seriously — you know who President Obama is?
There was that girl in whose pants you’d always had an interest, but you’d drifted into the dreaded Friend Category while she dated narcissistic assholes. And then – surprise! – the relationship would go sour and she’d come over to your place and complain at you for hours about the guy, and you’d sit there and listen because you really were her friend and just maybe you’d get in her pants this time.
And then she’d pass out in your bathroom and date another guy just like him the very next weekend.
So Obama is the narcissist and we’re the nice guy and I haven’t figured out who the girlfriend is but who says every analogy has to be perfect?