Nobody should leave a first date knowing the name of someone’s ex. It’s a golden rule. One mention of the “crazy ex” means we run – and fast. Though what about if the chat about their ex is less incendiary? Maybe they evangelise how their ex handled conflict. Or the way they imposed boundaries. Perhaps they divulge post-break-up coping mechanisms and share what they’re working through in therapy. Maybe they give you a run-down of their last argument, and how they’d do it differently next time.
It sounds intense (it is), but apparently, these are the sorts of conversations we need to have to find long-term love. That’s according to Sabrina Zohar, the dating coach and bestselling author who recently went viral after telling podcaster Jay Shetty the three questions everyone should be asking on first dates: “When did your last relationship end, and what did it teach you about yourself? How do you handle conflict; are you somebody that likes to talk immediately, or do you like to have space? And how do you see a relationship fitting into your life?”
Technically, that’s six questions, but you get the gist: be direct, clinical, highly therapised, and you’ll find your soulmate. Otherwise, you’re just wasting your time on someone who will probably ghost you, and it will be your fault because you didn’t interview them properly when you met. Simple! Except, anyone who’s ever been on a first date knows that isn’t quite how things work, and no amount of business-like questioning or copy-and-paste formula can predict how a relationship might unfurl, or not, between two people.
I understand why this advice is doing the rounds online; variations on Zohar’s suggestions are rife if your algorithm gets even the slightest sniff that you might be single. In a beleaguered dating landscape, all of us are scrambling around looking for ways to bypass bad apples and avoid getting our hearts broken.
In some ways, it makes sense to lay all your cards out on the table early on. There’s no point in exploring a romantic connection with someone who has a history of back-to-back situationships, codependency or emotional avoidance. Or whatever issues come to light after you pose Zohar’s questions. All of it makes sense in theory. In practice, it reduces dating to a business transaction at best, and a therapy session at worst.
The first dates I’ve been on this year have felt heavier than usual. Men show up, well-meaning, I’m sure, and quickly delve into deep waters. Often, we’ve ticked off attachment theory and love languages before I’ve finished my first Mezcal Negroni.
There was the one who talked about his tricky relationship with his mother, the one who tried to analyse my relationship with my father, and the one who sent me an entire play he’d written inspired by his messy break-up. It’s as if straight men have all been listening to the same podcast that told them the best way to get laid is to talk about their childhood trauma. Like Joey’s “Europe story” in , except in therapy-speak.
“One guy launched into a detailed account of his recent relationship breakdown within minutes of our first meeting,” says Elise, 47. “He explained that his fiancée had left him because she said he was boring, and he subsequently became involved in the swinging scene.” The man continued to talk about women he’d met at swinging parties before asking if this was something she’d be interested in. “I hadn’t even said a word at that point,” adds Elise. “It felt as though I had been dropped straight into the middle of somebody else’s emotional and sexual history without any consideration for whether I was comfortable being there.”
I’ve heard plenty of stories like this. A friend recently went on a date with someone who quite quickly started talking about the medications he’d been prescribed for his mental health, and another met someone on Hinge who immediately began talking in detail about the group therapy sessions he’d been attending.
On the surface, this sort of thing should feel refreshing. An antidote to the emotional unavailability that infects so many heterofatalistic single people. Finally, an enlightened man who is doing “the work”! Hallelujah! But a lot of the time, this degree of oversharing amounts to an intensity that cannot be sustained on either side, especially not in the earlier stages of dating – I’m not sure I need to know someone’s approach to conflict resolution before I’ve found out their middle name.
I’d also argue that oversharing early on doesn’t necessarily foster real intimacy. “Sometimes when you don’t have much else to talk about, it’s almost like you overshare to try and force intimacy,” notes Miriam* 34, who has experienced many dates like this. “There was one guy who kept talking about the nuances of his recent break-up, and how his ex’s parents were always causing arguments between them. I ended up talking about my exes because I didn’t really know what else to say.”
Indeed, there’s an important distinction between vulnerability and oversharing for the sake of it. “Being vulnerable is part of developing intimacy, but it doesn’t mean revealing everything about yourself at the earliest opportunity,” says Stina Sanders, an integrative psychotherapist and author of . “Trust develops through consistency, reciprocity and shared experiences. Feeling understood after one conversation isn’t the same as being genuinely known by someone.”
Advice like Zohar’s is a reaction to the ambiguity that characterises modern dating; the idea is to eliminate risk, uncertainty, and fast-track your way to love in a society that tells us we can have everything on demand – and usually via our screens. “Face-to-face social time has declined in recent years, which may give people fewer opportunities to practice in-person conversation and social cues,” explains Georgina Vass, a relationship and sex therapist. “When people do meet in person, dates can therefore feel higher-stakes and more anxiety-inducing.”
I want my first dates to be fun. And as appealing as the mirage of efficiency may be, I don’t think any of us can strategise our way into a relationship. Falling in love is never a given, no matter how you approach it, and asking the “right” questions doesn’t always gauge real chemistry. There’s a magic to it, one that can’t be predicted, programmed, or monetised. It just happens, which is what makes it so mysterious. But I suppose that’s harder to profit from.
