It’s not secret that I’m looking for a man who can make me laugh. “Oh, how original!” the masses cry. “Good thing that isn’t the definition for what all of what woman want!” Okay, jerk. I guess I’m looking for a very funny guy, and I’m pretty picky with what I consider funny. The men I have loved have been attractive in addition to being funny. I’m shallow in more than one way. But the men who’ve really lit me up, who’ve made me love them so hard I’ve cried on buses and subways and mountaintops, have made me snort and guffaw and chortle. This quality is tough to find in the wild. The men I’ve found hilarious (and sexy, and sexy-hilarious) haven’t all been comedians. Yes, one was an improviser and one was a stand up comedian, but one was a soldier and another one was studying to be a psychologist. It’s a mixed, funny bag. There is a scene in High Times in which Hannibal Buress half-jokingly accuses his lover of being a “chuckle fucker.” His lady half-heartedly protests, but the viewer knows it’s true. She’s objectively hotter and younger than he is, but ooooh Hannibal can make a woman laugh. I resonated so strongly with the accusation that I’ll never forget it. What a perfect term for that woman who is turned on most not by attractiveness or personality, but that elusive quality of funny. That’s me, I thought as I watched. I’m a chuckle fucker. So how to seek this out? My method has been far from perfect. On dating sites, I’ve given unfair preference to men who say they’ve done some kind of comedy. This is unfair both because it doesn’t objectively prove anything about the man’s sense of humor (have you ever been to an open mic? Yikes.) but also a bad metric because, in my experience, stand up comedians tend to be some of the most self-absorbed human beings in the world. Enter José . José was cute, and his self-description was tempting. “6′ tall, fluent in Spanish and can cook. I also tell jokes for money.” Jokes for money is a bit more impressive than “I do comedy,” because of the obvious implication that someone other than José finds José funny. José had messaged me about my love for dogs, and the conversation was on its way. He was a bit terse and didn’t express much interest in what I had to say, but I was willing to chalk that up to the awkwardness of messaging. We set a lunch date for Fette Sau, a BBQ place in Williamsburg we’d both been wanting to try.
- It’s closer to my house 😀
- This was actually a REALLY nice break from my the typical date I have with more straight-laced guys, because José was rather funny. He wasn’t interested in including me in his humor, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t entertained.
- I love. Love. LOVE. me some putt-putt.
This was my first time to the Club, but I had heard that they have ~free cheesy poofs.~ They do! Those of you who know of my love for fried cheese products will understand the siren call I felt as I walked in the door and saw that signature neon orange. José was saying something about being a sports fan vs playing sports, but I was making a fast track for saturated fats and sodium. Here, I must make some defense for José. I could have butted in and told my own stories. I’m perfectly capable of doing this. I could have stopped him when he said things I found somewhat objectionable (“I don’t know if this is a stereotype, but I work with mostly gay men and they never do more than they’re absolutely supposed to do!”) but aaaaaaaaaaaaaah no thanks. I’m a writing teacher by day, so I earn my money explaining things and making things make sense and putting things into logical order. I’m an improviser by night, so I spend my evenings performing. That means that when I’m on a date, I don’t WANT to fight for attention. I crave a give-and-take. I crave exciting conversation. I crave listening as much as speaking. When time time came for me to shoo José on back to the Cobra Club to make his show, I hugged him goodbye. He acted insulted, which I found baffling. Did he think I was going to invite him home with me, based on my “oh great! That’s on the way home for me!” Maybe he was just grossed out by the spectacle I had made of myself with my cheesy poof devouring. It’s been almost a week, and he hasn’t texted, not that I was standing by the phone. Maybe he’s somewhere telling someone, “she claimed to be a comedian, but she didn’t say anything funny the whole night!” I had anticipated having to reject him, so it’s best that we both felt the lack of connection. Bottom line: not the worst date I’ve been on recently. I was passively entertained, though José obviously preferred practicing his material to engaging in active conversation. I’m still looking for a funny man, but it’s obvious that simply filtering for “comedian” doesn’t really do any better than the general population. I think you all know what my favorite part of the night was.
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