Selfish people should know the importance of valuing other lives alongside your own.
We all carry a mix of generous and self-focused impulses, don’t we?
Most days we try to be decent, and then life throws deadlines, family drama, and plain old fatigue at us.
That’s when real character shows.
Over the years, in boardrooms and at weekend run clubs, I’ve noticed certain patterns that signal someone’s operating from “me first.”
The language and context here center on women because that’s the lens I’m writing from and the patterns I’ve studied most closely.
But if you recognize yourself or someone you love in these descriptions, take it as data, not a verdict.
Maya Angelou said, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”
I’d add this: believe them, but also believe change is possible when someone is willing to do the work.
Below are seven behaviors that quietly reveal a deep streak of selfishness:
1) Boundary blindness
Ever had a friend who treats your time like an open buffet? She texts “Can you talk?” at 11:47 p.m., sends “quick favors” that aren’t quick, and reacts as if your “no” is a personal attack.
Boundary blindness is not the same as being needy or going through a tough season.
It’s a steady pattern of acting as though other people exist to absorb your stress and solve your problems.
In practice, that looks like commandeering the calendar, dropping last-minute requests, or “popping by” when you’ve said you’re busy.
I learned this the hard way in my finance days.
One colleague constantly “borrowed” my prep hours before earnings calls.
At first I felt flattered to be trusted.
A month later, I was exhausted and resentful.
The aha moment came when she said, “You’re so efficient; it makes more sense for you to do it.”
That sentence told the whole story.
If you notice this pattern in yourself, try a reset script: “I value our connection. My availability is X. If that doesn’t work, let’s plan for next week.”
Boundaries are a way to keep relationships sustainable.
2) Spotlight hijacking
You share happy news.
Two sentences later, the conversation is about her.
You confide a problem.
She responds with a bigger, messier story about her life.
On the surface it looks like relating.
Underneath, it’s a consistent re-centering maneuver.
Spotlight hijacking often shows up in groups.
Promotions, engagements, marathons, graduation parties, even book clubs become stages for the same person to perform.
Compliments are rerouted, and questions boomerang back.
The spotlight always finds her face.
A simple test I use on myself: after a catch-up, can I accurately summarize what the other person said? If I can’t, I didn’t really listen.
Listening isn’t waiting for your turn to speak.
It’s allowing the moment to be about someone else without grabbing the mic.
If you’re dealing with a chronic hijacker, try gentle redirection: “I want to celebrate Jenna for a second.”
Then hold the lane; if that doesn’t work, you’ve learned something useful about your dynamic.
3) Transactional kindness
I love a good to-do list, and I also love the tidy satisfaction of crossing off “made soup for neighbor.”
But here’s the check: do you give to give, or do you give to get?
Transactional kindness wears a sweet smile.
Cookies for the PTA, reposts for a friend’s business, rides to the airport.
None of these are bad because the giveaway is the invisible invoice that follows.
If gratitude isn’t effusive, if reciprocation isn’t swift, the mood sours.
Suddenly the favor becomes leverage.
I have an old journal entry from a spring when I was volunteering at a farmers’ market every weekend.
I wrote, “If I need credit to feel good about helping, I’m trading, not giving.”
That sentence was a jolt and it still checks me.
A reframe that helps: treat generosity like compost.
You put it in the soil because it’s your value, not because you expect a specific flower tomorrow; you’ll still notice who shows up for you, but you won’t keep a ledger in your pocket.
4) Selective empathy
Watch how someone treats people who can’t advance their interests: Service workers, new hires, children, animals, and the planet that cleans up after all of us.
Selective empathy is warmth for those who matter and indifference for those who don’t.
I once sat in a meeting where a leader spoke glowingly about mental health, then snapped at an admin for a scheduling mix-up that wasn’t her fault.
You can hear the mismatch when compassion lives only on stages and social feeds.
Selective empathy also emerges in relationships as “I understand when I want something” and “I miss the point when you need something.”
It’s a kind of emotional convenience.
To self-audit, widen the circle of who gets your patience.
Tip well, learn names, and say thank you like you mean it.
If you’re vegan like me, remember the ethic isn’t just about food.
It’s a daily practice of reducing harm where you can, even when no one is clapping.
5) Chronic scorekeeping
Scorekeepers never lose track of who paid last, who called first, who compromised more, and who drove farther.
The tally may be silent, but it directs decisions.
You’ll hear it in phrases like “after everything I’ve done” or “this is the third time I’ve…”
Look, fairness matters but relationship math isn’t spreadsheet math.
Coming from finance, I respect a balance sheet.
I also know that love is lopsided by nature.
It flows unevenly depending on seasons, capacity, health, and luck.
When we insist on perfect symmetry, we turn connection into accounting.
If you catch yourself tallying, try swapping “I deserve” with “we need.”
It changes the conversation from debts to design.
What do we need so this feels workable for both of us? That question builds partnerships instead of prosecutions.
If you’re on the receiving end of relentless scorekeeping, you can say, “I want to keep us out of tit-for-tat. Can we talk about what would make this feel fair right now?” Watch what happens next.
Flexibility is the antidote, while rigidity is the red flag.
6) Accountability dodging
Selfishness loves loopholes.
You’ll see this in the woman who expertly explains why the missed deadline wasn’t her fault, why the snide remark was “just a joke,” why your hurt feelings are “too sensitive.”
Accountability dodging is different from making a case or sharing context as it’s a reflex that pushes blame outward and pulls credit inward.
When something goes right, it was skill; when something goes wrong, it was circumstances.
In my early thirties, a mentor gave me a script I still use: “You’re right, I missed it. Here’s what I’m doing to fix it, and here’s how I’ll prevent it next time.”
Responsibility restores trust faster than rationalizations ever will.
If you’re dealing with a chronic dodger, ask for a clear repair, not an apology monologue.
“I don’t need a long explanation. I need X by Friday and a plan for how we avoid a repeat.”
Accountability should lead to action.
7) Energy extraction
Some people leave you steadier after time together, while others leave you buzzing or hollow.
Energy extractors drain the room and refill only themselves.
The pattern is subtle: They arrive late and unprepared, they take the best seat and the most airtime, they outsource emotional regulation to whoever is nearby.
Energy extraction often hides behind “I’m just being honest” or “I tell it like it is.”
Honesty without sensitivity is laziness dressed up as candor.
You can be direct without being careless, and you can be real without making other people pay your processing fees.
I notice my own extraction risk when I’m depleted.
After a long stretch of writing and running, my tank can read close to empty.
On those days, I put buffers in place.
Shorter hangs, clear asks, and a long walk before the conversation instead of after.
If I still show up crispy, I name it so others can set their pace: “I’m low-energy today and working not to lean on you for a boost.”
If you’re repeatedly wrung out around someone, run an experiment.
Spend less time, choose lower-stakes contexts, and notice whether the pattern persists.
Your nervous system keeps receipts.
A few closing thoughts for self-observers
And if you’re reading to better spot these patterns in someone else, remember that labeling someone “deeply selfish” freezes them in place.
You’re allowed to step back without assigning a permanent identity, and you’re allowed to protect your peace without a final verdict.
I’ll end with a question I ask my coaching clients and myself: “What would this relationship look like if both people counted?”
Not one counting more and not one counting less, both are counted.
That’s the opposite of selfishness; it’s the daily practice of valuing other lives alongside your own.
When you see that practice missing, believe what you’re seeing and, when you see it present, nurture it.
That’s how we build communities, families, and friendships we’re proud to belong to.
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