How Much Is Too Much Sharing on First Dates?

I was engaging in a conversation on social media this morning. The original poster was a woman who’s a relationship coach for women. She was encouraging women to never share about past relationships, they were mistreated because a man would “knock a few points off of you”. After I figured out what that meant, I reflected on her message that women should tell men, “Every man treated them well, and that you just grew apart.”

Several aspects of this did not sit well with me, but the predominant one is starting a relationship predicated on dishonesty. If for no other reason, if he figures out that you were being dishonest this early on, he probably will not trust you. At least I wouldn’t.

In many of the comments, she spoke about discernment and emotional intelligence in knowing when to share these kinds of things with somebody you’re just starting with. Meaning, you should lie early on and call it discernment and emotional intelligence.

This got me thinking about what makes sense to me and what doesn’t. I didn’t have to think very hard to remember a situation that took place this past Friday afternoon.

I had met a woman a couple of weeks ago at a conscious dance event at a campground in Western Massachusetts, where I am one of the coordinators and organizers. We hit it off well, and she was really fun to connect with. More than anything, I deeply appreciated her open-heartedness and her ability to connect and share deeply and thoughtfully. We stayed in touch over the last couple of weeks via text and voice messages. She wrote me earlier in the week and asked if she could crash at my place in her trailer on her way to visit someone in the next state over. She and I live two and a half hours apart, so this was her way of saying hi and getting to know each other better. I was excited she was coming, but it turned out she would arrive while I was in the middle of a Zoom meeting. I sent her a text inviting her to come in and do what she needs to do. When I’m done with my meeting, I’ll come out and join her.

A quick, short-term history lesson on where I live. Back in May, my landlords informed me that when my lease ends in July, I’ll need to move out because they’re going to do some work on the building. I was really surprised because I loved where I lived and had been there for 6 years. After I got over the initial disappointment and shock, I shared in a WhatsApp group chat of our local dance community that I was looking for somewhere to move, and not just short-term. Fast forward, a dear friend whose wife and kids live in Costa Rica, and I’ve stayed with them there in their home. We’re finally ready to rent out their home here in Rhode Island by the water! There was a whole bunch of chaos in making this situation work out, but I moved here in August.

After my meeting, I went out and hugged her, and we said hello in my living room. When we released, she had a curious or puzzled expression on her face. “Michael, are you the only one that lives here?”

I understood what she was asking me. She was trying to find out why some of the art was incredibly feminine, and many elements would give you the impression that children live here. Before I answered her, I started laughing. Then I shared with her what I just shared with you, of how I ended up here with a house across the street from the ocean by a private beach.

She laughed and said what I knew what was behind her question. “Okay, that makes sense now. Did you have a wife and kids that you didn’t tell me about, and I was confused?”

The two of us got a good laugh out of this conversation, and then we launched into the rest of our afternoon plan, which included a walk to the beach and to a little hideaway in the marsh.

I understood that if I did not share with her the context and background on this situation, no matter what we were going to do afterwards, she would be wondering in the back of her head if I was some creepy jerk who was cheating on my wife in our home while she and the kids were out getting ice cream or away this weekend! So, sharing was essential.

Now let’s pretend, because this part didn’t really happen, while she was wandering around the living room, kitchen, and bathroom exploring the place and getting washed up after her road trip, that she was looking around the kitchen for some alcohol to drink. She would have come up empty because there isn’t any alcohol here. If she had asked me about that, I would have answered like this, “Unfortunately, there isn’t any here. If you let me know what you want, I’ll be glad to go to the store and grab some for you, and you can hang out on the deck looking at the water while I’m gone.”

But if this were our sixth date and not our first, I would have answered like this, guided by discernment and emotional intelligence in my decision. “No, I don’t keep any alcohol in the house. I’ve been clean and sober since 1989. If you’d like something, I’d be glad to pick it up for you.”

The reason I would not have shared it on our first date is that people typically have really strong responses and feelings about people who are alcoholics and addicts, recovering or otherwise. Many of them have had exes or parents who were alcoholics. Typically, when I share this with people, I get one of three responses: they are either really impressed, they think I might relapse and ruin our relationship, or they assume that I am a mess. None of those things applies to me at all. It was impressive, I got sober and stayed sober for the first several years, it’s been pretty much irrelevant in my life for the past thirty. I got sober because I destroyed my own and everybody else’s life who came in contact with me. I’m sober today because I love my life and care deeply about my mind, body, and spirit. That’s why I wouldn’t want to have shared that on a first date. It would have potentially hijacked our getting to know each other too quickly.

And, because I’m an addictions counselor, I’m acutely aware of how most people view addictions and recovery. It wouldn’t have felt necessary or important right off the bat as the first conversation we had, being alone in my home. I think this is what the woman was talking about this morning on social media regarding discernment and emotional intelligence, without realizing there’s a way to do this that doesn’t include dishonesty. Suppose somebody asks you about a past relationship, or your family, or anything else that doesn’t feel appropriate. In that case, it is totally fine to not answer the question at all, or similar to how I did in the fictional conversation with my new friend. There doesn’t even have to be a reason; you can just not be ready to share something that intimate yet.

Moral of the story. I invite you to listen to your body and use emotional intelligence to discern what makes sense to share in a potential new relationship and what to wait to see after trust and safety are established. Please don’t lie. It’s just not necessary. It’s also not necessary to spend forty minutes sharing why you got sober, what rehab was like, who you hurt, and all of the other things, until you’re ready or it feels right.

Ironically, later on in the afternoon, she was sharing something about her life when we were walking through the marsh related to alcohol and drugs in her life as a teenager. She asked me if I had ever had any problems as a teenager or with drugs and alcohol. It felt completely appropriate to share about my history. It created an opportunity to connect, get to know each other better, and create intimacy and comfort. It was a fun conversation with a lot of laughs.

Self-help and pop psychology influencers and pseudo-therapists might tell you that it’s important to be “radically transparent.” Still, my personal and professional experience invites people to be cautious and take their time. There’s no rush; trauma-bonding is problematic. Just spend time with each other, learning to enjoy each other’s thoughts, ideas, laughter, and energy.

Discernment and emotional intelligence are trusted friends in building loving and trusting safe relationships.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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