8 topics people bring up in conversations that make them look low-intelligence

We’ve all had that moment—you’re halfway through a chat and suddenly realize the topic is quietly lowering the collective IQ.

No one wants to come off as incurious or out of their depth, but certain conversation habits do exactly that. The fix isn’t complex: swap posturing for curiosity, and hot takes for humble questions. That shift alone changes how people read your competence and your character.

As someone who spent years in financial analysis before moving into psychology writing, I’ve noticed the same pattern across boardrooms, coffee shops, and trail runs: smart people don’t need to prove they’re smart. They ask better questions, cite credible sources, and leave room for nuance.

If you’ve ever wondered why a conversation drifts from you (or why a date never texts back), check the topic you reached for. Here are eight to retire—and what to try instead.

1. Bragging about not reading

“Ugh, I don’t read books,” said like it’s a flex, is a fast way to telegraph intellectual laziness. The subtext is: I’m proud of not feeding my mind.

You don’t need to quote peer-reviewed journals at brunch. But curiosity is attractive. People who read—even a little—tend to ask sharper questions and make richer connections. They also spot bias faster. And with today’s options—articles, audiobooks, newsletters—“not reading” just sounds like opting out of curiosity altogether.

If you truly haven’t had time to read, pivot: talk about a podcast episode, a long-form article, or a documentary that surprised you. Even better, ask, “What’s the most interesting thing you’ve read recently?” Show appetite, not apathy.

As Rudá Iandê writes, “You have both the right and responsibility to explore and try until you know yourself deeply.” Exploration starts with inputs—stories, data, and perspectives that stretch you. Let that be your flex.

2. Living for celebrity gossip

A little pop-culture catch-up can be fun. Making it your main course? Different story. When every conversation turns into who cheated, who feuded, or who “looked rough,” you signal shallow engagement with the world.

There’s also a values question here: we’re treating strangers’ real pain as entertainment. That boomerangs. People wonder if their missteps will end up as your next recap. Research even shows gossiping reduces trust—others start to wonder how you’ll speak about them when they’re not in the room.

Try this upgrade: use culture as a doorway to talk about themes—identity, reinvention, boundaries, power. “We live immersed in an ocean of stories, from the collective narratives that shape our societies to the personal tales that define our sense of self.”

If a headline hooks you, ask, “What does this say about how we handle failure—or forgiveness?” That’s a much smarter conversation.

3. Conspiracy dumping without receipts

We’ve all met the person who insists every event is staged and every expert is “in on it.” The issue isn’t skepticism; it’s certainty without evidence. When someone machine-guns claims and rejects sources on sight, it reads as fragile thinking.

Strong minds separate healthy doubt from lazy disbelief. They ask: What would change my mind? What do credible contradictory sources say? Can I outline the mainstream explanation fairly before critiquing it?

I once worked with a guy who could take apart any financial forecast—but he always ended with, “Show me the data that proves me wrong.” That’s real intelligence: holding a view lightly enough to refine it.

If a topic is charged, try, “Here’s what I’ve seen so far, and here’s the part I’m unsure about. What am I missing?” As Iandê notes, “Real power lies in the ability to break free from our ideological bubbles and build bridges where others see walls.” Bridges require receipts—and humility.

4. Pseudoscience health hacks

I love a good green smoothie as much as anyone. But the moment a conversation turns into “my cousin cured everything with this powder,” credibility drops. People clock the difference between curiosity about wellness and evangelizing miracle fixes.

It’s not just about sounding naive—it’s about risk. Blindly sharing untested remedies can actually harm others who take your enthusiasm as authority. That makes you seem careless rather than wise.

In my analyst years, I learned to treat bold claims like exotic stocks: interesting, but verify the fundamentals. What’s the mechanism? Any real trials? What’s placebo versus proven?

Try swapping proclamations for questions: “I’m experimenting with morning light for sleep. Have you seen any solid research on it?” You keep the door open for shared learning without overstating what you know. That signals both openness and discernment—two markers of real intelligence.

5. Status flex as identity

Cars, square footage, follower counts—none of these are personality. When conversation leans on price tags or “who you know,” it reads as insecure, not impressive. People enjoy your success more when it’s framed as a story of learning, service, or craft—not a scoreboard.

If you’ve worked hard for something, own it. But bring texture: the skill you built, the systems you tested, the early failures you mined for insight. That’s the part people connect to.

I once had a neighbor who constantly dropped luxury brand names into casual chats. It never landed well. But when she told me about how she built her small business from scratch, I leaned in. Suddenly the shiny car made sense—it wasn’t the story, it was the byproduct of grit.

Status fades. Competence and generosity travel. Show those.

6. Sweeping stereotypes

Blanket statements about entire groups—generations, genders, communities—sound lazy because they are. The brain loves shortcuts; intelligence resists the cheap ones.

When someone says, “Gen Z doesn’t want to work,” or “Men never ____,” they’re telling you how little time they’ve spent with outliers. Broad strokes are easy. Real thinking requires specificity: contexts, constraints, counterexamples.

Smarter move: trade certainty for curiosity. “I’ve noticed this trend in my industry—does it match your experience?” You’ll still get to the friction and the patterns, just without flattening people. Nuance isn’t fence-sitting; it’s accuracy.

And if you catch yourself simplifying, pause. Ask for a story, not a stereotype. It’s amazing what one concrete example can do to upgrade a conversation.

7. Shortcut-to-riches talk

There’s a difference between leverage and lottery. When a chat devolves into “the secret nobody knows,” “10x with no work,” or a magical MLM pitch, the signal you send is: I want outcomes without understanding inputs.

Real builders—of wealth, careers, or impact—obsess over unit economics, risk, and time horizons. They talk compounding, feedback loops, and learning curves. They’re allergic to “guaranteed.”

If financial growth is on your mind, try, “I’m learning about dividend strategies. What frameworks do you use to evaluate risk?” Or, “I’m comparing two business models—can I sanity-check my assumptions?”

That invites collaboration. It also proves you’re more interested in mastery than shortcuts—a reliable marker of higher-order thinking.

8. Complaining with no curiosity

Venting is human. Recycling complaints with no interest in causes or experiments? Draining—and yes, it reads as cognitively stuck.

The alternative isn’t toxic positivity; it’s investigative energy. Swap “Work is the worst” for “Three things are wearing me down. I’m testing two changes—have you tried anything that helped?” Now other people can engage at a problem-solving level.

I’ve caught myself doing this—sliding into loops of complaint about the same challenge. The conversations went flat. But when I framed it as an experiment—“I’m trying X this week, we’ll see”—suddenly people leaned in. They wanted to trade notes, not just nod sympathetically.

This is where I circle back to something that’s guided me lately. I’ve mentioned Rudá Iandê’s book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos, before; the book inspired me to notice how I’m participating in my own patterns.

One line that stays with me: “When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that's delightfully real.” Curiosity thrives where perfectionism loosens.

Final thoughts

If any of these topics hit close to home, welcome to the club. We’re all refining the way we relate, one conversation at a time. The point isn’t to be impressive; it’s to be interested. Swap certainty for questions, hot takes for nuance, and status for substance. People will feel the difference—and so will you.

Try choosing one upgrade this week: read something long-form and bring a question to dinner, replace a complaint with an experiment, or ask for a counterexample before you argue a point. Small pivots compound.

And if you want a nudge toward deeper, more honest conversations, I’ve found Iandê’s Laughing in the Face of Chaosrefreshing and practical. Use the insights that serve you, leave the rest, and keep exploring.