How to Deal With People Who Talk and Talk and Talk and Talk

Long-talkers reveal all! Plus: Conversation style poll results!!

Hello everyone,

Welcome to Issue #122 of CAFÉ ANNE!

So in last week’s issue, I ran a little poll asking folks what role they assume in a typical conversation. The results were extremely interesting.

A third of the respondents said they talk and listen equally. Sounds about right. But the number of self-described listeners outnumbered the self-described talkers three-to-one!

Surely, I thought, some of the folks who think they do a lot of listening are delusional. After all, for every listener, there has to be at least one talker, right?

Wrong!

Diving into the research last week, I learned that there is a field of academia, "conversational analysis" that, among other things, looks at how speaking time is divided in a typical exchange.

And since the 1950s, one study after another has observed the same phenomenon: in group settings, 20% of the participants typically control 80% of the conversation by initiating topics, relating their experiences and sharing their opinions while everyone else listens, asks questions and begs the talkers for more.

The Pareto Principal rules once again. Fair enough!

The problems start, of course, when one person does so much talking that everyone else just wants to die.

Which is why I am very excited for this week’s issue. The main story features self-admitted long-talkers explaining why they talk so much, and what the rest of us can do about it. Plus, we’ve got tips from readers sharing their own experiences dealing with monologuers. Please enjoy.

Regards!

Anne

FEATURE

How to Deal with People Who Talk and Talk and Talk and Talk and Talk

Once upon a time, I had a friend I'll call Gabby. We had a lot in common—a shared love of writing, meditation and Marlboro Lights. Plus, Gabby was an interesting lady. She was having a long-distance affair with a man in a war-torn land! She hosted great dinner parties packed with weirdos!

She was also a long talker. By this I mean a transcript of our conversations would show Gabby did 95% of the talking. While I love to listen and ask questions (to the point I made a career of it), this was a bit much.

Finally, I decided to confront her.

"Gabby," I said one afternoon over coffee, "I've been feeling a little irritated that whenever we meet up, it's mostly you talking about yourself. We never talk about me."

She expressed surprise. And then, to her credit, asked what she should do.

"Well," I said, "You could ask what's new with me, or how I am doing."

"What's new with you?" said Gabby. "How are you doing?"

I started relating a recent adventure. But within minutes, she'd steered the conversation back to herself.

"Gabby!" I said. "We're talking about you again!"

She requested more guidance, and I suggested she express an interest in my story by asking questions.

Gabby put in a mighty effort. But after ten minutes, she announced she had to run. "Thank you for your honesty!" she said on her way out. "It was so helpful for me to get this feedback!"

And I never heard from Gabby again.

Had I hurt Gabby’s feelings beyond repair? Or was she simply not interested in a relationship that didn't involve me endlessly interviewing her as if she were some hot Brooklyn celebrity? I'll never know.

Yes, while I am usually delighted to let folks rattle on for as long as they please about whatever they like, there have been times when frequent contact with champion long-talkers left me feeling annoyed or erased. And I could never find a good way to handle it.

I'm not alone! I recently got a note from a reader, Nick, requesting advice on this very topic.

“Anne," he wrote. "I have a number of friends that like to monologue during our lunches. I can be a good listener, but I also find they become tedious ... please give me some wonderful input into how to either deal with my friend or myself.”

It struck me that the long-talker phenomenon is a little like homelessness. Everyone agrees it's a problem, but no one knows how to solve it. And then I wondered: has anyone tried asking the long-talkers?

In last week's issue, I made a little request. "Calling all long-talkers and monologuers!" I wrote. "I’d love to understand you better. Please write in and explain why you talk so much! And what can others do when your long-talking gets out of hand?"

In the comments, several readers predicted I wouldn't hear a peep from the long-talkers.

"I'll be very interested to see if any of them are self-aware enough to identify as such and answer the questions you posed to them," wrote Betty Ann in Canada. "VERY."

But to my delight, I heard from nearly a dozen self-admitted long-talkers wanting to share their side of things.

Among the first to email was Emma, a science journalist and self-described chatterbox who lives in Astoria, Queens.

Emma!

"I think, according to some who have a low tolerance for chitchat, that I would be considered a conversation hog," she wrote.

I was very excited when Emma agreed to a Zoom call. How chatty was she? At one point, when I asked what she likes to talk about, she went on a three-minute tear (yes, I have the time stamps to prove it) about her new fascination with outer space. An excerpt:

“I thought that all planets had a mantle, like Earth, of, you know, molten metal or magma or whatever. No! Uranus and Neptune have a slushy ice mixture as their mantle! So it's like, a core fire mantle, slushy ice, atmosphere. So we have a liquid hydrogen ocean, going out to, it's like a gradual atmosphere of like, gas, hydrogen. So it's not like the ocean, like air and water. It's like a gradual gradient of water to atmosphere. It's crazy!”

But that was the exception. Emma was actually a delightful conversationist who answered my questions with fewer digressions and less rambling than I'd get in an interview with your typical CEO.

Why does she talk so much? I loved her explanation: she just gets super excited about many topics, wants to share them with others, and feels comfortable doing so. "It has to do with the pure enjoyment," she said. "And I think that a lot of people, if you get them comfortable, also become talkers.”

True! While I’m typically a listener, the tables turn when I’m in the company of someone who expresses a genuine interest by asking thoughtful questions. The amount of talking I can do in a situation like that is frankly embarrassing!

What makes Emma different, it seems, is that she requires no special encouragement. And that's gotten her into trouble, because for most of her life, she assumed everyone was wired the same way.

That started shifting eight years ago, when she began dating her boyfriend, who is on the quiet side. She learned she had not made a good impression with his friends.

"They were like, 'We don't like Emma, she talks too much, she thinks that she's so important,'" she recalled. "And I was like, 'Damn, that's crazy.' I don't talk too much because I think I'm so important. That's just how I communicate!'"

As she spent more time with her boyfriend, she learned he didn't feel comfortable interrupting her long account of her day to bring up his own. He needed her to ask directly. So now she does. "Because otherwise, I kind of steamroll him a little," she said.

Her story reminded me of an Instagram post I saw earlier this year that sort of blew my mind. It featured a coach, Hailey Magee, describing two kinds of conversationalists—"Volunteers” and “Invites-onlys.”

"Volunteers share information about themselves without having to be asked first," said Ms. Magee. "Invite-onlys only feel comfortable talking about themselves if they've been asked a question."

"Volunteers sometimes find invite-onlys guarded, boring or lacking vulnerability," she added. "Invite-onlys sometimes find volunteers self-centered and incurious."

So interesting! My whole life, I always assumed that if someone wasn't asking questions, they simply didn't care. But maybe that's not true!

"I like to know what's going on with people," said Emma. "But I expected that people would be a little bit more like myself, and that if something's on their mind, they would just tell me."

So when does Emma not feel comfortable? When no one is talking! Some of her chatter, she admitted, is just an effort to avoid dead air.

"If we're all sitting around and there's nothing to talk about, are we all having a bad time?" she said. "Is it my fault? Am I doing something wrong? Am I being a boring friend? It's an insecurity-driven thing."

Wow! I'm the opposite. I often relish an awkward pause in the conversation. I wonder who will be the first to blurt something random just to break the silence. Apparently, it will be Emma.

So what should the listeners do when the long-talkers overdo?

Emma says that when she checks in to ask whether she’s gone on too long, it’s not a veiled request for reassurance. She wants the truth! "It is absolutely genuine, every single time," she said.

But no need to be harsh and agree she’s talking too much. A subtle steer will do, she advises: "The best thing to do is to be like, 'No, but you know, here's something interesting...' and just move it to what you want to say."

Her plea: give the long-talker the benefit of the doubt. Don't assume they don't care! Jump in with your own stories, opinions and reflections. Unless the person is a real monster, they'll be glad you did.

There are people on this planet, of course, who see others purely as a personal audience for their never-ending performance. I remember one long-talking fellow who, over brunch, started reciting facts from an article he'd just read in a certain newspaper.

"Yes,” I said, "I wrote that article."

And he went right on, lecturing me with more information from the story. Amazing!

While such folks are likely hopeless, they are rare, I think.

When I consider my chatterbox pals, it strikes me that much of the long-talking stems from cognitive issues rather than character problems. Even if they’re super smart, some clearly have a hard time staying focused or knowing what details are relevant. So it takes a long time to get to the point—a quirk that can be as frustrating for them as it is for the listener.

"A brief window into the mind of a long talker," commented a reader named Frank. "For me, it's about never seemingly getting that dopamine-serotonin rush in my brain when a point is made. I feel like I never make my point, no matter how many times I beat the expired horse. So I erroneously keep talking aloud while I'm thinking—when I should be keeping zipped until I've sorted my thoughts in a precise, succinct fashion."

This scenario was echoed in an email I got from a reader in Amsterdam.

“I'm a long talker because I have raging ADHD and either:

a) I've gone on a contextual side-quest to make sure the listener has all the context they need to TRULY understand the story

b) I've lost track of my point

c) I'm playing conversational ping-pong and am expecting the listener to jump in and cut me off”

Indeed, several long-talkers wrote to say they wish others would interrupt more often, because they frequently feel they are on a runaway speech train with no brakes.

Then there's the folks on the autistic spectrum. They have intense interests but lack the ability to discern that everyone’s getting bored with their monologue about, say, 19th-century steam locomotives.

These long talkers can also appreciate being reminded, in a gentle way, to give others a turn.

"Seeing as my kid is prone to monologuing, I very much appreciate when people kindly point out when someone is talking without listening," wrote Carrie, a reader in Brooklyn whose son is on the spectrum. "I think the safest way is to call attention to your own perspective—'I’m having trouble following; can you give me the summary?'—rather than describing the teller in some negative way."

Kara in Bushwick offered another reason for long-talking: anxiety.

"I know when I’m rushing in my speech, I’m scared of intimacy and connection, and up comes the wall of words," she said. "It's a protective shield. If someone talks to me, I might get unsolicited feedback. I might get love. I might get stuff I can’t handle—that would overwhelm me."

"I’m also kind of getting off on it," she added. "This big story-telling, or drama, or going on and on. And there’s also the delusion that everyone is enjoying this. Sometimes people do give indicators that they are enjoying it. They might be enjoying it at first. And then, everything in moderation—at some point they’re like, 'enough!' It's like having too much Diet Dr. Pepper. It’s, 'Okay, this is getting gross.'”

Phew! So many reasons to long-talk, and I can relate to them all!

My last interview was with Harry, a Clinton Hill policy advisor.

"I am a monologuer," he wrote in an email. "Mono. Logos. This is not the correct etymology, but I'm going with it because it captures something of the Monologuer's Mind: you proceed according to a single logic, your own.”

Harry!

"I'd say I'm a bad listener," he said, when we jumped on a phone several days later. "People have been telling me all my life to be a better listener, but any improvement has been marginal. And I can backslide even if I make an effort—which I do!"

"Why do you talk so much?" I asked.

"The answer I'd like to give is that I have a lot to say," said Harry. "The actual answer is, I think I was humored as a child. I was raised to speak my mind by a lot of rather indulgent adults who would let me talk."

In his school years, Harry met plenty of folks who suggested he pipe down. But he preferred to keep talking.

"I'm oppositional by nature," he said. "A kid who is more accommodating might react to this feedback by adjusting their behavior. For me, I'd just seek out people who let me behave how I'd always been allowed to behave."

Harry is quite fun—he got me laughing a lot on our call—so it's no surprise he’s had little trouble finding a willing audience. It wasn't until joining the workforce that he got interested in listening. He realized he was missing important information he needed to do his job well.

"But the worst consequence is pissing someone off," he said. "You don't know how many more friends you might have if you listened to people."

"So why have you only made a marginal improvement?" I asked.

"If it was having more negative effects on my life, I’d probably adjust more," he said. "But it's a trait that people either learn to boogie with, or they don’t—and I have who I have in my life."

His friends have their limits. Harry remembers a pandemic-era group Zoom call in which he was rattling on once again about his new crush. One friend held up a phone with the timer displayed. "Not to offend me or twist the knife, but to make a joke with each other," he said. “It was ‘Oh my God, he's doing it again!’ They literally timed me. It was eight minutes, 30 seconds."

Harry got the message, and says he appreciated the feedback because it was done with humor and affection.

"I do wish people would call me out more," he said, "even though it hurts a little bit."

The key, he said, is to convey the message with affection rather than anger. "It's like telling someone they have a spinach in their teeth," he said. "It's not a confrontation."

That's right! The last time I felt irritated with a long-talker, last fall, I almost confronted him. Thank goodness, I thought twice and kept my mouth shut.

The next time we met up, I decided to do something that was uncomfortable for me. Before I got irritated, I started jumping in with my own thoughts. And to my surprise, he listened! Like Emma, it seems, he’d always assumed that if I had something to say, I’d say it.

If he hadn’t adjusted, I’d certainly have let the relationship go. But our conversations have felt been quite balanced since then. My pal still monologues from time-to-time, but then, so do I!

Harry would approve. "Help us augment our self-awareness," was how he ended his email. "Be the change that you wish to see in the conversation. Speak up!"

CAFÉ WISDOM!

Breaking the Monologue Spell

I'm not the only one who's tried different methods to deal with long-talkers. In last week's issue, I also asked readers to share their best strategies. Here, a selection from both the comments section and emails from subscribers.

My sincerity prevents me from listening to someone who isn’t saying anything substantial or is narcissistically blathering on about themselves. Firmly, but with kindness, I make an “I" statement along the lines of, “I’m having a hard time listening to you now because I don’t feel you’re connected to your words. Tell me something short and real.” Doesn’t always work, but my integrity is intact.

—elevensbest

I once bought a package of elegant, engraved cards—like old-fashioned calling cards—that said only STOP TALKING (all caps, no punctuation). Seems like a simple enough thing to wordlessly hand one to your long-talker mid-monologue. I carried one with me for years but never had the nerve to use it.

—Equilibrist

I married a long-talker, and as of the anniversary of our first date in September, we will have had 32 years of experience managing our different styles. I say be playful and direct. At one point, we had decided that I should buy a green baseball cap for when I'm open to conversation, and a red cap for when I'm not. However, then came Donald Trump, and the red cap had to find a new home.

—Anne M.

If I'm on the phone and can perform quiet tasks such as folding the laundry it's not so bad. But once the quiet chores are done and the noisy ones (such as unloading the dishwasher or scooping the litter box) need to be addressed, then it's hasta la vista, baby—I simply cannot sit there quietly as the minutes tick by and a few minutes stretches into an hour.

—Laurie

I used to work with a shaman who had great communication skills. When a filibusterer would engage, he’d give them about two minutes of undivided attention and then say, “I hear you, man, wow.” Then he’d nod and say something like, “It sounds like you’re in the middle of thinking about all of this and it sounds cool, don’t let me keep you.” He did it really gently and most people never realized he was telling them to sling their hook.

—Marina

When trapped in conversational hostage-taking, I find a disruptive exclamation works to break the monologue spell.

“Squirrel!”

—ThinkitThru

I interrupted a monologue recently with “you need to stop talking and start eating” because two of us had finished lunch and the talker had barely started. They reacted with relief. Most long talkers I know are a bit deaf and seem to keep talking so they don’t have to struggle to hear other people.

—Lucy

Regarding long-talkers/monologuers, my friend who studied hypnotism said she learned that to stop someone from droning on, you just interrupt and ask them a question totally unrelated to the current topic. She says that breaks up the energy.

—Deborah

One thing that might work with some long-talkers is to ask for their advice on an issue. Even if they are still talking, the topic of the conversation isn’t about them. It might also redirect their brain to explicitly think about the other person and realize that not much of the conversation has been about them or on their terms.

—Christine

When I get saddled with a long-talker, I use a trick I used as a waitress many moons ago. I mouth the words. No sound. Stops people mid-sentence. They go, "What, I didn't hear you." And then they actually shut up and listen—if only for a minute!

—Lolah

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