I know and have some friends who are diagnosed with NPD. It doesn’t affect how I treat them. A diagnosis is just a piece of paper at the end of the day, and there’s no reason to treat someone differently based on whether or not they have a particular sheet of paper. I act according to people’s behaviour.

If someone seemed to have insight into the disorder it’s one thing. The trouble is a lot of cluster B in general don’t. My mother has BPD and has a violent lack of insight into her problems, and some of my patients too. They are vicious miserable manipulative people who only exist to seek negative attention from others. But people who do have insight seem to do ok.

Exactly how I feel about being aspd (sociopathic)

I would judge them heavily in my head and pay very close attention to them to be aware of any attempts at manipulation or anything of the sort.

I understand it’s a complex diagnosis and has many facets that aren’t inherently negative but ignoring the large parts that are inherently negative would be putting yourself in jeopardy.

But as someone with a diagnosis with the same level of negative connotation I’d be more understanding but still wary.

Not every narcissist is a monster just like not every sociopath is a monster despite the general opinion on the matter.

What I see online? I spent the first twenty years of my life as a target of cluster-B abuse, trust me I know firsthand.

My advice to all people in range is drop everything and fucking run. Things are replaceable. Jobs and friends are replaceable. Your wellbeing isn’t.

It sucks, you didn’t choose it, it’s not fair - I totally get that, believe me. I have ADHD, it’s a bitch, and it can suck for the people around me.

But the thing is, the fact that it’s not your fault doesn’t make you safe to be around. People can be a danger to others completely involuntarily, despite their greatest wish not to be. And yes, that’s completely fucking unfair.

NPD and BPD are both driven by a great sucking vortex of need-for-validation that can never be filled, and that tortures people if left unfed. NPD is when the vortex demands power or status, BPD is when it demands extravagant emotional connection, but they’re the same basic model underneath. It’s as vicious and relentless as any drug addiction, it doesn’t go away, and it will eventually overpower any amount of good intent. When the monkey’s on their back, all bets are off and the nearest available victim will be preyed upon.

I don’t think there’s a safe way to be in a relationship with that - though I suppose with extremely open communication and amazingly well-defined and enforced boundaries, it could be doable. But this is very much a case of informed consent - it would be supremely shitty not to let your partner know the deal.

I’ve been in this scenario twice.

First time is a close friend of mine. Specifically he said he had BPD, a variation of NPD (traditional psychological wisdom says if he was assigned male at birth, it would be classic NPD). It was one of those things he slowly “revealed” to me, perhaps to see how I would react, I don’t know. I would not judge him for something like that, I’m not one of those people who thinks of others in terms of what they “are” but rather what they “do” (I would rather adapt to things others dismiss as I believe in nuance, is it not the most human of experiences). He has a lot of baggage stemming from that, from his parents who are on-and-off abusive (NPD heritage maybe), from the DID that came from it, from transphobia, and from their whole family growing up outside the local theocratic status quo. I don’t care that he expresses all that in an extreme way where others ridicule or question his state of mind, who am I or anyone else if we only address interpersonal matters on a surface level? If Eridan is observing me talk about him in this way, I hope he knows he is loved and always has a place with me.

The other time this happened, it happened with a friend of mine who I know from my idol (an author I like, who also put me in her social circle, which is awesome). This friend is the Benson to my idol’s Pops and is closer with her than he is with me, though he has taken an interest with me because I’m the only perpetually active non-trans female in the group (yes, the idol herself is trans too, male to female this time, the implication of me having a transdar has made me question if I’m trans before hence certain references) and he is lonely. We know we can talk to each other about anything, and that’s how I found out he has NPD. He came to me one day and just said “hey I went to the doctor to get tested, turns out I have NPD”. Despite his high standards, some of the conclusions he comes to when life gets him down, and the fact he and the other friend I mention absolutely hate each other (go figure), if being there for him exudes a welcome difference I can make in their world, he and his issues have my dedication. I see my friends as people with souls that are silently and critically wary of how things play out on the surface in ways they can only hope to fully connect themselves with.

The issue is behavior (which is the primary way most of that is diagnosed to begin with).

Acknowledging the behavior and making a deliberate attempt to prevent/improve it is something I would see as a positive sign compared to the behavior without the same steps. Getting a diagnosis (and some type of therapy) are a good thing.

If you consistently treat me badly, the label wouldn’t be why I left. If you make mistakes, but make the regular effort to be aware of them and improve, the label doesn’t matter either.

Why the ever-loving eff would you talk about this during a job interview?

Is this a recent diagnosis? You need to slow way down and educate yourself on the condition and your employment rights. And I don’t mean by asking people on internet forums. Get real resources recommended by the doctor who gave you the diagnosis.

If somebody you knew like a family member, partner or friend told you they had NPD would you still talk to them?

I’d tell then they should run for President of the US, they have qualities and traits a majorty of people admire…

In my experience, I’ve known long before they did.

If it’s a person that I know then it wouldn’t affect my view of them at all, because I already know them.

I’d be really curious about what is really means and how you manage or cope with it. If I knew you for a while it would be just another thing to file away about your personality. It probably is something you would share with people you are close to, but you may need to educate them on what it means.

Honestly, don’t tell anyone except your partner. From what I’ve seen, revealing that kind of information often leads to more disadvantages than benefits. At best, people might not treat you any differently and won’t make assumptions about your behavior, motives, or credibility based on what they’ve read online. But realistically, you’re unlikely to gain any tangible advantages by sharing it. Keeping it to yourself gives you the most control over the situation.

I’ve heard stories of people who genuinely try to be good, fair individuals—people who contribute positively to society and the communities around them. But when they’ve disclosed being on the NPD/BPD/ASPD spectrum (or something similar), they’ve often been met with skepticism or outright mistrust. Some get accused of being liars, manipulators, or “puppet masters” with sadistic intentions, as though their diagnosis defines their every action.

I can only imagine how difficult that must be. You put so much effort into overcoming harmful behavioral patterns, making decisions that prioritize fairness and the well-being of everyone involved—not just yourself. And yet, even the people closest to you might turn around and act like they fully understand your diagnosis after skimming a few pop-psychology articles or watching a couple of sensationalized YouTube videos titled something like, “The Dangers of People with BPD/NPD/ASPD.” It’s infuriating when they then start framing you as selfish, dishonest, or manipulative—especially when, in reality, you’ve been actively keeping the balance in their favor simply because it felt like the right thing to do and you believed they deserved that kindness.

That kind of response can really hurt.

Just look at the other replies here—neurotypicals just aren’t ready for this kind of conversation.

I hear how much this diagnosis weighs on you. You’re carrying around this knowledge that you have NPD, feeling caught between wanting genuine connections and worrying that being open about this could push people away. It’s a really difficult position to be in - wanting to be authentic with someone you love while facing all this stigma and misconceptions about personality disorders.

You’re not just asking about a diagnosis - you’re asking about how to navigate relationships, how to be genuine with people you care about, and how to handle vulnerability. These are deeply human concerns that go way beyond any diagnostic label.

I’ve know many people who initially saw their diagnoses as permanent labels that defined who they were. I get why - that’s how mental health has been presented to us for decades. We’re told these are distinct categories, clear boxes that people fit into. But here’s something fascinating that recent research has shown: When researchers studied over 3,700 people who shared the same diagnosis of major depression, they found over 1,000 different symptom patterns. More than half of the people had patterns so unique they appeared in less than 0.1% of the group.

This isn’t just true for depression - it applies to most mental health diagnoses. The whole idea of these being clear, distinct categories is breaking down as we look more closely at the science. In fact, despite decades of searching, researchers haven’t found reliable biomarkers for these diagnoses. The DSM workgroup themselves concluded this (page 8 of the pdf here as well as page 18 of the pdf here).

What does this mean for you? Well, it suggests that thinking of NPD as a fixed thing that defines you might not be the most helpful way to look at it. Instead of asking “Will people reject me because I have NPD?”, we might ask different questions: What patterns do you notice in your relationships? What kind of connections do you want to build? What helps you move toward those connections, and what gets in the way?

You mentioned being worried about your current relationship - about whether your boyfriend would still want to be with you if he knew about the diagnosis. That’s a really understandable fear, especially given how personality disorders are often portrayed. But I wonder if we could look at this differently. Instead of thinking about “revealing NPD” as a single big disclosure, what if we thought about building authentic connections in a way that aligns with what matters to you?

The real strength I see in your post isn’t related to any diagnosis - it’s that you care deeply about being genuine in your relationships. You’re wrestling with these questions because connection matters to you. That’s not a symptom; that’s a value. And it’s something you can move toward, step by step, in ways that feel right to you.

I know I often reference ACT and process-based approaches, and some might see that as my go-to solution for everything. But this situation perfectly illustrates why these approaches can be so helpful. Rather than letting a diagnostic label define your path, you can focus on understanding your own patterns, knowing what matters to you, and building psychological flexibility to move toward the life you want.

When you ask “How will NPD affect your social life?”, you’re asking a question that assumes the diagnosis drives everything. But what if we turned it around? What if instead we asked: What kind of social life do you want to build? What patterns help you move toward that? What patterns get in the way? These questions put you in the driver’s seat, not the diagnosis.

This isn’t about denying challenges or pretending patterns don’t exist. It’s about seeing them as processes you can work with rather than permanent labels that define you. The science is increasingly showing us that this is not only more accurate, but more useful for creating change.

You’re not your diagnosis. You’re a person trying to build meaningful connections while dealing with certain patterns of thinking and behaving. Those patterns can change. They might be stubborn sometimes, but they’re not set in stone. What matters is moving toward what’s important to you, one step at a time.

I think unfortunately you do need to have a lot of pre-emptory remarks prepared. The key things to cover are to establish your self-awareness and then discuss some of the triggers of your difficult behaviors and how you want others to feel empowered to address them.

This isn’t one-to-one with a cluster b disorder, but I struggle a lot with compulsively making mean comments. With new friends, I have a short speech explaining it, how I share my true thoughts, and encouraging them to directly speak to me if they feel upset or offended. Sadly, it doesn’t work all the time and more people bounce off sooner, but the people who do stay around it has been possible to build more secure and healthy friendships with.

It might be helpful to find a similar process for yourself.

Depends on how you frame it.

“I’m a certified asshole and that’s why I’m trying to change.”

or

“I’m certified awesome and you should know any problems are really your fault.”