Look, I hate small talk. It’s a very controversial and bold opinion to have, but I’m just too deep for shallow conversation. I want to talk about space! and cool music and childhood traumas right off the bat. Forget the weather, I don’t even know what the weather is. The only time I look outside is when I’m caught up in my own thoughts.
And that’s why you should date me. I’m so profound. I hate small talk and I’m not afraid to admit it!
I built my entire personality around this notion because there is literally nothing interesting about me at all. I just want to close my eyes and shake my head, laughing!, when you say something like, “Can you believe it’s only Tuesday?” I don’t pay attention to days.
How about you ask me something worthwhile, huh? Like, “Can you believe stock prices have dropped?” or “Tell me all the ways I’m not like your ex.” Those are REAL conversations. I’m so complex. I’m a complicated woman. I hate small talk.
Are you in love with me yet?
I haven’t said anything actually substantial or real, but I’ll scream if you ask me about how my job is or what my commute is like. I’m wild and free and go with the flow, dammit. I don’t want small talk. Don’t ask me “what’s up” — oh god, I’m already rubbing my temples in anticipation to such a mundane question.
How about asking me about the planets or my sexual past or every lie I’ve ever told to my parents or even telling me what you love about my eyes. Forget small talk, just tell me everything you love about me. And make it exciting.
I don’t require much. I just demand you constantly ask me personalized questions, tailored to allow me to overshare with you immediately.
Life is too short for me to get to know you slowly and at a pace you feel comfortable with. I only want you to get to know me. I’m fascinating, I’m unique. I’m a girl who hates small talk.