A Shared Sense of Humor

One thing that may be evident is how dour my posts are. They’re stale. Boring. Overly-serious. Despite how stern I may come across in my posts, humor is very important to me.

When Jess and I started dating, I told some of my original jokes on every date. Jess laughed at each and every one. Most of my jokes are too inappropriate for the internet. One such example (and Jess’ favorite joke of mine):

Growing up, I had a swimming pool. It ran away.

No one else laughs at that joke. I told you, my jokes are way too inappropriate.

On October 2nd, 2024, I actually gave Jess a joke she could use herself via text (the day after our first date):

I got some bad news from my gynecologist today.
Yeah, he’s not actually a gynecologist.

Before we lived together, we would do long phone calls, and I would occasionally dig through my joke vault and read off random jokes:

I lost a lot of money betting on the Giants.
Goddamn that Jack and his motherfuckin’ beanstalk.

I hate it when someone gives you their favorite book as a gift.
The next time they see you, they ask you questions about it, you know?
Giving someone a book as a gift is like: “Here you go: homework!”

There’s one political party that doesn’t quite fit with the rest.
You go: “Hey, leftists, what’s your political party called?”
“The Democrat Party.”
Then you go: “Right-wingers, what’s yours?”
“Republican Party.”
“Hey, weirdos in the back. What’s yours?”
“Green!”
“Hey, Democrats, what’s your platform?”
“Social justice.”
“Republicans, what’s yours?”
“Lower taxes.”
“Hey, Green Party people, what’s your platform?”
“Green!”
“Hey, Democrats, what’s your mascot?”
“A donkey.”
“Republicans, what’s your mascot?”
“Elephant.”
“Hey, Green Party people, what’s your animal mascot?”
“The color green!”

Jess laughed at nearly every one.

When we lived downtown, we went to many comedy shows. I can’t recall all the comedians we saw together—many shows had multiple struggling openers—but the headliners that we saw were Dave Attell, Tom Segura, Jeff Arcuri, TJ Miller, Craig Ferguson, Deon Cole, and some others I’m sure I’m forgetting.

Most of the time we had front-row seats or seats very near the front-row. It felt like I was Henry Hill in Goodfellas—not because we always had the best seats in the house, but because I ratted on my capo.

At any rate, we had front-row seats at the TJ Miller show. TJ did a bit of crowd work and ended up involving me in the show, asking me about my snapback hat. He called me a hipster. Correction: I am not a hipster; a hipster follows trends while thinking they did it before anyone else—I was simply doing what hipsters do before it was cool.

One part that sticks out was when TJ noticed Jess sitting next to me and asked her, “Are you two boyfriend-and-girlfriend?”

Jess laughed and informed him that we were indeed dating. I think it might have been the first time that we were asked a question like that.

There was some more back and forth, and I ended up being funnier than him and won over the crowd—he started crying because of it and threatened to quit comedy and throw himself in a lake. It’s not my fault—some people are just too funny for their own good. Despite his bitter resentment and total devastation, TJ managed to wipe away his tears and finish the show. All in all, it was probably the best comedy show I had been to, and the best comedy show that everyone in the crowd had been to—because I had made Jess laugh.

The downside of living in a suburb is that the logistics of going to a comedy club make it difficult to do so. I’m a bit of a lightweight when it comes to booze—I can really only handle 1.5-liter bottles of Wild Turkey 101. Anything more than that and I get nauseous. With the two-drink minimum at comedy clubs and depending physically on alcohol, I don’t think I’d make the drive back home without getting carsick.

I think my point is that laughter is important to us, and we still find ways to make each other laugh everyday. Which reminds me, I need to write some more material so I can make Jess laugh when she comes home.