My best friend organized a gathering. Three men and three women.

After it ended, I drove her home, and in the car, I asked her which one was the most boring.
She wasn't even wearing her seatbelt, and she rolled her eyes first.
“The first one. I said I was stressed, and he said keep going. I said I wanted to quit my job, and he said don't be impulsive.”
“Smiled throughout. Nodded the whole time. We talked for forty minutes. Now I can't remember a single word.”
And the second one.
“The second one kept asking. What do you do? What do you like? Where have you been? Where's your hometown?”
“Like an interview. I asked him the same. He said, ‘I'm pretty simple.’”
“Not humble. Empty. He has nothing to give you, so he can only take from you.”
And the third one.
She fastened her seatbelt and looked out the window.
“The third one came in the latest. Sat down almost without speaking.”
“Later, we talked about traveling. He said one thing.”
“‘I took a train in Myanmar for three days and three nights. No air conditioning. A monk sat across from me. The monk said he only does one thing in his life.’”
“Buy a fish every morning. Walk to the river. Release it.”
“Release it for twenty years.”
“Then he stopped talking. We asked what happened next. He said there was no next. The monk is still releasing fish.”
She finished her drink.
“That monk released fish for twenty years. He told this story. I still remember it.”
“Boring men desperately want you to remember them. Addicted men make you desperately remember what they say.”
I glanced at the avatar of the third man. Pure black. No signature.