I grew up in a house where curiosity was a virtue and minding your own business was a skill. Both matter.

In my seventies, I’ve learned the hard way that some questions feel like friendliness to the asker and an audit to the person on the receiving end—especially when you don’t know each other well.

If you want to make good first impressions, it helps to know where curiosity turns into intrusion.

Here are ten questions that often land as rude or nosy with new acquaintances—why they sting, and better ways to get the connection you’re actually after.

1) “How much do you make?”

Money is an easy shorthand for status, and that’s why it burns. In a new relationship, asking for income feels like weighing a person before you’ve met them.

Why it grates: It can trigger shame, competition, or safety concerns. People hear judgment even if you meant neutral curiosity.

A better route: Ask about the work, not the wage. “What parts of your job do you enjoy?” If the person wants to talk compensation or industry trends later, they’ll open that door themselves.

If you’re the target: Smile and pivot. “I try not to talk numbers, but I’m happy to share what the role looks like day to day.”

2) “When are you having kids?” / “Are you pregnant?”

We tell ourselves we’re celebrating life. Often we’re trespassing.

Why it grates: Fertility, loss, choice—these live in tender places. Even a happy answer can come with complicated history you didn’t earn the right to hold.

A better route: Stay with the person’s present. “What’s keeping you busy outside work these days?” If they want to show you pictures of a toddler or a tomato plant, you’ll know soon enough.

If you’re the target: “We keep family stuff private, but thanks for the good wishes” is a boundary that doesn’t start a fight.

3) “Why are you still single?” / “Why did your last relationship end?”

That’s not curiosity; that’s an unsolicited performance review.

Why it grates: It invites people to justify their life. It can corner them into revealing trauma or badmouthing someone they’d rather not discuss with a stranger.

A better route: Ask about values rather than autopsies. “What do you enjoy most about your life right now?” or “What does a good weekend look like for you?” You’ll learn more about fit without grilling.

If you’re the target: “I like my life as it is. If it changes, great.” Then pass the bread.

4) “Who did you vote for?” / “What are your politics?”

I’ve seen Thanksgiving tables survive Watergate and implode over a bumper sticker. Politics can be honest talk; it’s rarely good first talk.

Why it grates: It demands allegiance before trust. It’s a quick way to turn a picnic into a panel discussion.

A better route: Start with civic life rather than tribal labels. “What local issue do you care about?” or “Have you been to the new library?” You can wade deeper once you’ve established you’re both human beings and not just party jerseys.

If you’re the target: “I try to keep first conversations light—happy to compare notes another time.”

5) “Where are you really from?”

I know this one can sound like interest. Often it reads as: “Explain your identity to me.”

Why it grates: It implies the person doesn’t belong where they said they’re from. For immigrants and people of color, it’s a chorus they’ve heard since grade school.

A better route: Ask about story, not origin paperwork. “What places feel like home to you?” or “How did you come to live here?” Those leave room for hometowns, migrations, or “I’m just from here and that’s that.”

If you’re the target: “I’m from Cleveland.” If pressed: “That’s the whole story.” Delivered with a smile; protects your time.

6) “How old are you?”

Age can be relevant. In most casual settings, it’s résumé-gazing for strangers.

Why it grates: People hear “Are you still useful?” or “Should I treat you differently?” Age comes with bias—against the very young and the very old.

A better route: Ask about era instead of number. “What music did you grow up on?” or “What were you into in high school?” You’ll get the vibe without the audit.

If you’re the target: “Old enough to know better, young enough to try anyway.” Humor buys privacy.

7) “How much did that cost?” / “Do you own or rent? What’s your mortgage?”

I still hear my father: we don’t count other people’s money at the table.

Why it grates: It can feel like a status check—or worse, like you’re calculating what they’re “worth” to you.

A better route: Praise without pricing. “That’s a beautiful jacket—mind if I ask the brand?” or “I love your place—how long have you been here?” If they want to talk deals or interest rates, they’ll volunteer.

If you’re the target: “A good deal I’m grateful for.” Full stop.

8) “What’s ‘wrong’ with you?” / “Are you on meds?” / “What’s your diagnosis?”

Even well-meaning people stumble here. We want to understand. We forget that health is not a public library.

Why it grates: It reduces a person to a chart. It can push them to disclose disabilities, trauma, or mental health info they’d rather share on their own timetable—if ever.

A better route: Offer accommodations without interrogation. “If there’s anything I can adjust to make this easier, tell me.” Or, “Do you prefer stairs or elevator?” Needs first; labels later if invited.

If you’re the target: “I keep medical stuff private, but I’ll let you know what I need.”

9) “Were you fired?” / “Why did you leave your last job?”

I’ve hired and I’ve been hired. There’s a time for that question; it isn’t at a backyard barbecue.

Why it grates: It can corner someone into badmouthing an employer or reliving a humiliating moment in front of strangers.

A better route: Ask forward-looking questions. “What kind of work are you excited to do next?” or “What did you learn from your last role?” You’ll hear the important parts without pinning them to the wall.

If you’re the target: “I’m focused on what’s next—and I’m excited about it.” Then tell a future-facing detail.

10) “What’s your religion? Do you believe in God?”

Faith is intimate terrain. So is non-faith.

Why it grates: It asks people to declare tribe and doctrine before you’ve shown you can handle either. It also invites the worst kind of follow-up: the debate you didn’t consent to.

A better route: Ask about meaning without recruiting a creed. “What traditions do you enjoy?” or “What gives you a sense of perspective?” That allows holidays and hiking, church and jazz.

If you’re the target: “I keep that personal, but I love hearing what grounds other people if you want to share.”

Two stories, because lived moments teach better than rules

The salary ambush.
In my forties, I brought a new neighbor to a cookout. We’d barely exchanged names when a man across the picnic table asked, “So what do you make in that field?” My neighbor froze into a polite smile I recognized as panic. I said, “He makes Tuesdays work, same as the rest of us.” Then I redirected: “You built that deck yourself, right? How’d you learn?” Conversation recovered. Later, the neighbor thanked me. The man with the question probably thought he was talking shop. He’d turned a welcome into a spreadsheet. Curiosity is fine. Dignity first.

The pregnancy flub.
Years later, a colleague—bubbly, kind—leaned across a conference table and asked another coworker, “When are you due?” She wasn’t. The room cracked; the target saved us all with grace: “Due for vacation, I hope.” After the meeting, the bubbly colleague found her and apologized with verbs: “I made an assumption about your body. That was rude. I’m sorry.” She owned it. She learned a rule most of us need taped to the fridge: if the person hasn’t announced it, it’s not your question to ask.

How to satisfy curiosity without crossing lines

• Lead with common ground. “How’d you end up at this event?” beats “What are you?”

• Ask opt-in questions. “If you don’t mind me asking…” and then genuinely accept “I do mind” without sulking.

• Trade, don’t trespass. Offer a piece of your own story first. “I grew up in a little town with one traffic light. How about you?”

• Favor present and future over past. “What are you working toward?” instead of “Explain your last three choices.”

• Watch the body, not just the mouth. Crossed arms, short answers, a glance toward the exit—these are cues to back up the truck.

If you put your foot in it (because you will—I still do)

1. Own, don’t defend. “That was intrusive. I’m sorry.”

2. Shrink the cleanup. No essay. No “I’m a good person.”

3. Pivot to neutral. “How’s the food?” “Have you tried the lemon bars?”

4. Do better next time. Courtesy is a muscle you can train.

A note I wish I’d learned younger: what feels like “getting to know you” to the asker can feel like “justify yourself” to the asked.

The difference is pace and permission. Relationships scale better when you let people hand you their story rather than prying it out with a crowbar labeled “just curious.”

Parting thoughts

Good manners aren’t about being stiff. They’re about protecting room for trust to grow.

Early on, skip the questions that audit people’s wallets, bodies, beliefs, bedrooms, and ballots. Ask about the slice of life you can share today—what they’re reading, the best thing they ate this month, the trail they like, the music they return to.

Let time do its job. Most people are happy to tell you who they are if you prove you’ll hold their answers with respect.

Curiosity plus patience beats nosiness every time, and it leaves the door open for the kind of conversation that actually matters.