The Two Question Rule

If you check back on my introductory post from December 6 ("Following David Brinkley's Lead"), you'll notice that nowhere in the list of subjects that I planned to cover in The Quentin Chronicle was "advice on the opposite sex." Even though I have been married for thirty-six years and raised two daughters, I am virtually unqualified because I make no pretense about being able to understand women. (My son can vouch for me, because even though I have not been shy about giving him advice, it has rarely, if ever, been about those of the female persuasion.) My feeling is that, if you ever meet a male who makes a contrary claim, take what he says with a grain of salt! Nevertheless, a couple of months ago I read a piece in an advice column - - it might have been Amy Dickinson's column "Ask Amy," and although I don't know for sure I am going to go with that assumption - - that was so downright excellent that I wished I had written it myself. The piece was not actually directly relevant to love life advice; instead it was about manners. However, after reading the column I was reminded about the one piece of advice on the subject of romance that I would have been willing to offer had I ever been asked. I have yet to be asked, but that's what blogs are for. You can answer questions that have never been asked of you!

In the particular "Ask Amy" column to which I refer, her readers contributed advice which they, themselves, had been given in their youth, and which they now imparted to their own children. A woman wrote to share a bit of instruction which her mother had told her and her siblings. The instruction was as follows: If you are conversing with a person who says something that reminds you of one of your own experiences (whether similar or dissimilar), you should first make every effort to ask three questions about what that person had to say. For example, if Lucy says to Ethel that she has just returned from a trip to South Dakota, Ethel should not reply, "I have never been to South Dakota, but I have been to North Dakota," nor should Ethel say, "I was there in 2006 and just loved it." Instead, Ethel should ask, "Did you see Mount Rushmore?" or "How long were you there?" In other words, let the person who instigates the telling of the personal story have her moment in the sun before you highjack the conversation with recollections of your own experience.

To be honest, I think three questions might be a little much, but please, no less than one, and preferably two! I am going to call it the "Two Question Rule." Once you have paid your acquaintance that little courtesy, then you can regale her with your own tale. Of course, it's easier said than done to execute that little courtesy, and it's also tough to restrain yourself if the conversation includes a third person who is not a follower of "Ask Amy" and decides to launch into her own story. It is behavior like that which probably led to the saying, "It's not always about you!"

My personal experience with conversation high jackers probably peaked when our kids were in school. What parent does not want to talk about his own kid? Mr. Jones: "My little Georgie hit two home runs in his T-ball game last night." Mr. Smith: "That's just great! My little Annie scored three goals in her soccer game!" No doubt I was guilty myself of failing to observe the Two Question Rule, but hopefully not more than a handful of times. I guess my excuse is that I had not yet read the Ask Amy column. Kudos to Amy's reader who shared her mother's wisdom. I wish I had that in my (too often used) bag of fatherly tips when my kids were little. It was more worthwhile than a lot of my other pearls of wisdom. But two of my kids follow this blog, so better late than never!

Now, you may now be asking, "What does the Two Question Rule have to do with anyone's love life?" Okay, what follows here is the tie-in, as tenuous as it might be.

From what I have read and observed over the years, a lot of younger people on the dating scene wonder if the person they are seeing is The One. I would advise such a person to pay attention to follow-up questions (or lack thereof) asked of them by their significant other, especially after the lapse of a day or more. The situations which are ripe for follow-ups involve mentioning some event which will occur (or remain in place) the next day, or at least in the very near future. A guy tells a girl that he's going to be studying hard that night for a test the next day, or that he's interviewing for a job tomorrow, or that his out-of-town cousin is coming for a visit. If, the next time they talk, the girl never asks about the test, or the interview or the visit, she is not The One. A girl tells a guy that she's almost done with a great book she's been reading, or that she is writing a speech, or that her mother is sick. If, the next time they talk, the guy never asks about the book, or the speech or the mom, he is not The One. If a person is interested in you, she will ask that follow-up question.

A person's failure to ask the follow-up doesn't make her a bad person. Maybe she is forgetful. Maybe there are so many other guys in the picture that she can't keep straight who told her what. Or, unfortunately, maybe it's just a case of poor etiquette. Obviously my little strategy will not reveal to you who is The One. Entire books could be written, and have been written, about that difficult query. But my strategy will be useful in determining who is not The One. If you see a pattern developing where your significant other consistently fails, time and again, to ask you that longed-for (or at least, anticipated) follow-up, it may be time to recognize that as a red flag. Let's face it, there are plenty of narcissists out there. Why waste your time with one?

How can you be a better conversationalist? How can you be a better mate? One imperative sentence provides the answer to both: Ask follow-up questions. It will show that you've been listening. It will show that you are interested, or at least that you have good manners.