介绍： 037 | The End of Small Talk

When my relationship unraveled nearly two years ago, I decided to suspend my career as an actuary in Boston and take a long vacation in Costa Rica, where I planned to learn how to surf and do yoga. Yes, it was the most clichéd response possible for a heartbroken 32-year-old Wester...

介绍： 037 | The End of Small Talk

When my relationship unraveled nearly two years ago, I decided to suspend my career as an actuary in Boston and take a long vacation in Costa Rica, where I planned to learn how to surf and do yoga. Yes, it was the most clichéd response possible for a heartbroken 32-year-old Westerner like me.

After four weeks there, I was traveling by car with several friends I had met at surf school when we came upon a red-faced, middle-aged woman hitchhiking on the outskirts of a small village. Our radio was broken and we were bored, so one woman in our group, Abby, said: "We'll offer you a ride on two conditions. First, you must sing us a song, and then you have to tell us a story. Do you accept?"

The hitchhiker, an American, responded with a crooked smile and a nod, freeing her hair from behind a Disney visor. "What would you like me to sing?" she asked.

"Anything you like," I told her, "as long as it's by Rod Stewart."

One rendition of "Maggie May" later, her story began.

"It's interesting you ask me to tell you a story," she said, "because I'm living in the middle of a love story right now. I came to Costa Rica one year ago and met the man of my dreams. He was selling jewelry at a stand in the market. He's Italian, and as soon as I spoke to him I felt something I hadn't felt in my whole life. It overtook me. Love like in the movies, but this was real."

This was promising.

"So you're here to see him?" one of my companions asked.

"Yes, absolutely, dear. I'm heading into town now to see him for the first time in 12 months."

We broke into huge grins; we too were now characters in her story, deliverers of love from a dusty roadside to the man of her dreams.

"Does he feel the same way?" Abby asked.

"Yes, he emails me every day to tell me so."

I turned to her. "Are you excited to see him?"

"I haven't thought about anything else for an entire year."

"So you came all this way alone to see him?" I asked.

"Well, I had to, didn't I? It was breaking my heart to be away from him." She paused for a breath. "Although my husband came too; he's back at the house."

Our hands shot up with questions.

After my trip, I was eating steak at a Boston bar, still mourning that the woman I thought I would marry, Alejandra, had broken up with me. I'd met her five years earlier, and she was, in every way imaginable, an inspiration to me. She was the woman who taught me about love.

Next to me at the bar was a couple on their first date. I could tell because their conversation reminded me of those awkward exchanges you have with co-workers' spouses at Christmas parties. They opened with a discussion about their commutes to the bar. They both lived within a 10-minute bus ride, and they managed to stretch out this topic for 30 minutes.

Next up, the weather: In Boston it rains sometimes, and they had both noticed this. An hour in, they turned to the really deep stuff. One was a teacher, and the other knew a teacher. How could they be destined for anything other than true love?

O.K., so I may have been directing some of my brokenhearted anger at them, but all I could think was that I wanted no part of this game. If being single meant having to partake in this kind of conversation, I'd rather pass. How could I go from the deep connection I had with Alejandra to discussing bus schedules and weather patterns?

I thought back to a dusty roadside in Costa Rica and the woman who shared her heart with four strangers. Why couldn't we all embrace her openness? Why did being with a stranger so often mean we couldn't immediately talk about meaningful things?

With this in mind, I decided to approach my re-entry to dating with a no-small-talk policy. Not that I would insist we talk only about heartfelt subjects; ideally, there would also be plenty of flirtatious joking and witty banter. I simply wanted to eliminate the dull droning on about facts and figures — whether it's snowing or raining, how cold it is, what we do for work, how long it takes to get to work, where we went to school — all those things that we think we have to talk about with someone new but that tell us little about who the person really is.

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