This is the most selfish person at a party. And it could be you.

It’s a unique kind of torture being stuck in a conversation you don’t want to be in. When your drink is full in your hand, so you can’t excuse yourself in the name of a refill. And your last trip to the bathroom did nothing to deter this particular person from approaching you and resuming the conversation, “oh, as I was saying before”.

Except it’s not a conversation. It’s a one-sided waterfall of words and stories from their mouths into your too-polite-to-tell-them-to-shut-up-ears. And a broken record of “hmms”, nods and “really?” from you.

Such a lack of self-awareness is shared by one group of people: the non-askers.

These are the people who, as Hattie Crisell so eloquently describes on The Pool “entirely lack curiosity about the rest of the world, but deeply enjoy talking about themselves”.

We all know people like this. They are the most selfish people in the room.

They never ask any questions. They don’t want to know how you are. What you might be interested in. Even what your name is.

But, after 27 minutes of ‘conversation’, you are bound to know everything about them.

How important their job is. How fantastic they are as a partner. How great they are in bed. How they’ve recently taken up the hobby of decoupage. That they don’t entirely agree with the gay marriage plebiscite protests but they feel as if they’re in the minority. That “did you know there was an app that could tell you where you parked your car, just in case you forget, and it changed my life?”

I wonder if there’s an app to remind a person to stop talking and ask the basic questions of societal interaction in return.

Not just “how about you?” which is both grammatically incorrect and so general, it’s easier not to go there at all, but real, specific questions that show a genuine interest in the person standing in front of them.

“And how are you? What are you doing for the summer? What book are you reading? And what do you think about the Prime Minister? And do you often forget where you parked your car also?”

These are easy questions. The thread in the fabric that makes up an equal, level conversation. An actual dialogue where one person speaks, the other listens, and then the roles are reversed.

Asking questions, as opposed to just answering them, will stop the desperate search for an exit and might lead to both of us getting to know each other. Maybe forming a friendship. Maybe going for dinner one night next week. Or meeting up for coffee at the weekend.

Because, as it stands, there will be no next meeting and I’m making a mental note to avoid you at all costs if I ever see you in a social situation again. Because, you my (not) friend, are a time thief. I’m 27 minutes closer to death because of you – with nothing to show for it.

Just as bad, I’m desperately downing my drink, eyeing off the bathroom line and looking for some poor soul I can grab and inject into the situation as I back away slowly.

I’m an asker and I expect to be asked in return.