In my line of work people like to ask personal questions. I don't like to talk about myself. Hell, I don't like talking about myself to my friends, at least not anything personal. When people I don't know nor like want to know about me. I end the conversation.
I've become good at ending a conversation with one line. There's an art to it. You have to give them what they want to know, but put it in a way that they won't ask any more questions.
Generally no one will ever ask me a personal question after I do this. There's this one guy though from work. I hated him anyways, but he decided he wanted to get to know me better. He started asking questions about my sex life. Which I can't stand anyways. He asked me how old I was when I lost my virginity and if I loved the guy or if it was a one night stand. I told him I was raped. Instead of the conversation being over he kept going. He got excited by the fact I was raped. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know how it happened and how many times. He's the kind of man that should just die. The world be better without them. It's interesting though. He went from being excited about me being raped to talking about spending time with his granddaughter. It just makes me wonder.
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