I’m as guilty of this as anyone. There are some people whose interests absolutely put me to sleep or move me to violence. I develop a bad tic when I hear about computer backups, golf, or any kind of running, especially pre-dawn. Fishing stories compel me to root for the fish.
Of course, I’m sure not everyone is mesmerized by my talking about electric trains, or sports cars, or wine. It may be their loss, but I understand that I do tend to overdo it at times.
On one occasion, having cocktails before dinner with a group that meets regularly, I was introduced to someone’s husband whom I’d never met. “So,” he said to me, “What’s your story?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not wanting to begin a novel.
“We all have a story, tell me yours, start at the beginning.”
So I did, in abbreviated form, and he asked some clarifying questions, but remained engaged.
I came away thinking, “Now HE is a brilliant conversationalist.”