Years ago, I went out with H. In three dates I learned the following:

I learned about the mother he worshiped and the father he detested. I learned about his siblings, where they went to college, where he went to college, where his best friend went to college. Did you know he once drove from Chicago to Seattle in two days and was devastated when Sleater-Kinney broke up? He told me he was considering moving to Winnetka but maybe not, Oak Park was a little cheaper. He was married once but it didn’t take. Delta was his favorite airline and The Sopranos was the best TV show he ever watched — that is, when he had time for TV. He loved his job but worried the other partners weren’t as dedicated as he. “Jennifer – he called me Jennifer – I’m used to working with stars.”

I learned all that in three dates. I’m not sure if I took my allergy pill this morning, but I remember this guy sitting next to me on the el, worrying about the lack of “stars” in his life. And me? If we ran into each other today, I’m pretty sure he could tell you this one thing about me: I like the San Francisco Giants.

Here’s the thing: This man could be the most charming man you ever met. He was smart. And funny. And cute. He was an impressive person and likely would’ve been even more impressive if he hadn’t been so darn impressed with himself. Even so, I couldn’t wait to ensure there would be no future dates.

I think about this man every time I encounter a bad listener. I know what makes a bad listener because I used to be one myself. One of my friends said she called it “The Jennifer Show” because I used to burst into rooms and embark on these long monologues about my crazy commute or customer service encounters. I thought they were hilarious. Sometimes they were. Other times they were just me boring people with stories I thought were unique which were actually quite universal.

I think about that previous version of myself and thank her for finally embracing the calm. The monopolizing version is still there but now she’s so much more self-aware. The more I mature, the more I wish others would nurture this side of themselves too.

These days it seems I am confronted by bad listeners everywhere: The cab driver who overshares. The coworker who never asks about my weekends but painstakingly details every minute of his own. The family member who drones on and on and never asks about your life.

If you listen yourself, you realize most of this stems from loneliness and while people don’t deserve a free pass for this particular version of bad etiquette, it does make it easier to swallow. I just wish my inner voice wasn’t constantly telling them to stop.

Note: This does not “weigh” on me per se but I never miss an opportunity to hear these songs!