I've got a friend who's been one of my best friends since high school. He used to almost never call me and now he calls me a couple times a week. He's been going through a rough patch: permanent disability that prevents him from working, a divorce, his dog is getting frail and old, and being alienated from his stepkids. So he calls to keep me informed on his daily woes.
I know why. I am empathetic and an introvert. I am a good listener.
No matter what the subject is, he is skilled at turning it back to himself. Of late I have amused myself by picking some obscure subject, then listen while he finds a way to make it about him. I figure if I have to listen, I might as well get some fun out of it.
My best friend ever, may he rest in peace, used to do the same thing. He was the ultimate extrovert and when we were together he could talk about himself for hours. He knew there was very little chance I would interrupt his self-love fest.
I am really amazed at people who are so obsessed with themselves. Former girlfriends have critcized me for not opening up more about myself. I just figure the only person interested in the stuff going on inside this head is me.
Still, sometimes I think about that Toby Keith song, "I Wanna Talk About Me."