When to Tell

I met Alex at a party and got the general overview of his life story. So I was surprised to open the door of his Honda on our first date and see a car seat. "Do you have kids?" I asked. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and apologized for not having told me about his daughter. Then we spent what felt like hours in uncomfortable silence.

I've never seriously dated a man with children and would not do so without considerable thought. But I have no policy against having a beer with one, which is all Alex and I had planned. Still, I felt both startled and a little misled. When we met, he had talked a lot about his work, his hobbies, and his interests, but never mentioned his child. He'd never declared himself dependant-free, but he'd also given me no reason to imagine his life any other way.

Our date - which never got beyond that quick beer - got me thinking about what sort of information needs to be disclosed to a potential partner upfront, what can wait, and how to know the difference. For many of my single friends, medical issues pose the biggest hurdle. Several friends who take antidepressants say they are never comfortable in a new relationship until the other person knows, yet they fear rejection if they tell too soon. Others say the same thing about personal debt. My friend Samantha spent most of her 20s in a serious relationship with another woman. Now 36, she has dated men only for about five years. When she's with someone new, she struggles over when and how to reveal this part of her history. Once when she mentioned her ex-girlfriend on a first date, she felt the man viewed her as an X-rated fantasy rather than a three-dimensional person. Another time, she waited several dates; the disclosure then damaged the trust just starting to develop.

Dating might be easier if there were clear-cut rules. But the early stages of a relationship are all about determining whether we are interested enough in a person to make ourselves vulnerable. Ideally, if we reach a point where it seems appropriate to talk about an uncomfortable or unconventional aspect of ourselves, we already know whether we'll be accepted - and whether the acceptance will be grudging or generous.

It's worth noting that the tough issues are not always ones that would cause a date to lose interest. One friend shares a name with a major department store and has the trust fund to match. Her fear is that once a man knows her net worth, she'll never be sure if he likes her or her checkbook. I suspect that most of what we fret about disclosing isn't the worst stuff - it's the stuff we ourselves are not comfortable with. Yet, the way we deal with our own issues often sets the tone for our date's reaction.

What struck me about Alex is that he seemed unsettled in his own skin, as if he wished he could assure me the car seat, and his life, belonged to someone else. Ironically, being more upfront about who he is - a dad working through the challenge of shared custody - would probably increase his chances of finding the right gal for him. After all, most of us want someone who loves us not in spite of our issues, but partly because of them.

Here's where I'm supposed to talk about my own big secrets and how I've disclosed them skillfully and painlessly. But the truth is, I'm a long way from writing about them for publication. Probably, my deepest fear is that I'll be crazy about someone and everything will be great until I reveal one of the Issues That Shall Not Be Named. And at that point, a dark thundercloud will explode, and Mr. Right will exclaim: "I can't believe you never told me that. It changes everything!"

There's a great moment in the movie American Splendor when two characters meet for a blind date. The woman says "Hi." The man responds with "I've had a vasectomy." Then they get married. While my issues do not, needless to say, include a vasectomy, I still love the message here: Whatever your secret, the right person for you is the one who can handle it.

Alison Lobron lives in Cambridge. Send comments to coupling@globe.com.