7 things emotionally intelligent people never do in conversations, according to psychology

Last Friday I was jotting tasting notes at my favorite kombucha taproom—think neon barrels, K-pop remixes, and flights of fizzy pineapple-ginger—when the guy beside me launched into a ten-minute monologue about his new start-up.

I nodded, offered a polite “Interesting…,” then stopped responding altogether. He never noticed. Walking home, I realized how emotionally intelligent people simply don’t do that.

For them, conversation is more like a jam session than a solo: each player leaves space, listens for the beat, and respects the pause.

Below are seven things EQ-savvy communicators avoid—plus the psychology that shows why these micro-restraints generate macro-connection.

1. They don’t make every story about themselves

Sociologist Charles Derber coined the term conversational narcissism to describe the chronic habit of steering talk back to oneself. It shows up through the shift-response (“That reminds me of my trip to Seoul…”) instead of a support-response (“How did that feel for you?”).

When researchers observed groups swapping anecdotes, heavy shift-responders were rated as less likable and less trustworthy by neutral listeners—apparently our brains flag spotlight hijacks as social debt we don’t want to repay.

The fix sounds simple yet feels radical: stay curious for one more follow-up question than feels natural. Think of it like holding a guitar chord an extra beat so the melody can resolve. You’ll notice faces relax, shoulders drop, and the whole vibe turning cooperative instead of competitive.

2. They don’t listen just to reload their next line

MRI studies show that being on the receiving end of active listening lights up the brain’s reward circuitry—the same regions that fire for favorite music or chocolate. The message: “I feel heard” is literally pleasurable.

EQ communicators treat that pleasure like kombucha carbonation: precious and easy to lose. They lean in, nod, paraphrase (“So the pricing pivot felt rushed?”), then check for accuracy before adding opinions.

Nurses trained in this loop scored higher on measured empathy and patient-centered care than control groups.

A tiny mantra helps me: “Reflect before respond.” It buys a two-second pause—enough to hit the clutch between thought and speech so my next sentence lands as contribution, not collision.

3. They don’t disguise criticism with a sneaky “but”

“You did great on the presentation, but…”—we’ve all felt the sting. Linguists call it backhanded politeness: a compliment that primes the drop. The Gottman Institute lumps it under criticism, the first of their “Four Horsemen” divorce predictors.

EQ folks separate validation from feedback. They start with a clear acknowledgment (“Your visuals popped and the story arc was tight.”). After a breath—or even a new conversation—they add one specific suggestion (“Next time, maybe try a 60-second hook instead of five minutes on market context.”).

That structural clarity keeps the limbic system calm. No guessing when the shoe drops; no cortisol spike; just actionable data.

4. They don’t jump to advice before empathy

A systematic review of general-practice consultations found that higher perceived empathy lowered patient anxiety and produced significantly better clinical outcomes. Translation: understanding first, solutions second.

EQ speakers resist the reflex to fix. They hold the emotional space—sometimes with a single phrase like “That sounds heavy.” Only when the other person exhales do they ask, “Would brainstorming help?” Surprisingly, this delay makes their eventual advice more likely to land, because it rides on a foundation of felt safety.

In my own kombucha life experiments, I picture a two-step brew:

1. Steep the tea (listen for feelings).

2. Add the culture (share suggestions).
   Skip step one and everything turns flat.

5. They don’t lob “always” or “never” grenades

Sweeping absolutes (“You never text back”) activate the threat-defense circuitry that the Gottmans say predicts stonewalling—another Horseman. More than 40 years of marital-lab footage shows these words push partners into fight-or-flight in under three seconds.

EQ communicators swap global attacks for time-stamped observations:

• “When yesterday’s meeting ran late and we skipped coffee, I felt brushed aside.”

• “Last Friday when you cancelled, I worried our project wasn’t a priority.”

Notice the structure: When (event) → I felt (emotion). It shrinks the battlefield, making repair possible. Think of it as tightening the camera from wide-angle blame to close-up data.

6. They don’t mirror every emotional weather front

Emotions are contagious; we catch them like yawns. But a recent meta-analysis on emotional contagion found wide differences in susceptibility and highlighted self-regulation as the buffer against absorbing someone else’s storm.

EQ communicators label what’s theirs and what’s not. A quick inner note—“He’s frustrated; I’m steady”—activates the prefrontal cortex, letting them respond with measured tone instead of reflexive mimicry.

A trick I borrowed from martial-arts sparring: soften the shoulders, lower the breath. Physical cues tell the nervous system you’re safe, making it easier to choose a calming question (“What outcome would feel workable to you?”) over a retaliatory quip.

7. They don’t ignore the 93 percent that isn’t words

The Emotional Accuracy Test (EAT) measures how well people read spontaneous, real-life micro-expressions. High scorers also report fewer interpersonal conflicts and higher communication satisfaction.

EQ listeners treat posture shifts, vocal cracks, and fleeting brows as data points. They might notice a friend’s tight jaw and say, “I’m picking up some tension—want to unpack it?” Surfacing the scent of emotion before it becomes a wildfire keeps small sparks from torching trust.

Practicing is easier than you think: watch a muted scene from your favorite K-drama, jot down guessed feelings, then play it with sound. You’ll calibrate the same way brewers taste-test batches—tiny sips, frequent feedback.

Final words

If conversation were kombucha, emotionally intelligent people are the patient brewers. They skim the scoby of ego, taste-test for balance, and let ideas ferment until the fizz is right.

Their “never-do” list isn’t about stifling personality; it’s about creating space where everyone’s notes can sparkle—like a well-tuned seven-piece boy-band harmony.

Try adopting even one restraint this week. Ask one extra follow-up, swap an “always” for a time-stamped observation, or hold back advice until empathy has marinated.

Watch how people lean in instead of away, how conflict cools before boiling, and how you leave the table lighter—bubbles still rising, mind clear, agency intact.