Lunching With. . . : She Searches High, Loh for the One

Bad sex is underrated.

After all, bad sex has one indisputable selling point, even to those unfortunates who must make do with good sex: Bad sex is funnier. Especially to us ladies. Mainly because we don’t consider bad sex to be an oxymoron.

“Men generally do not have a sex experience they’ve ever regretted, not even with themselves. It’s always good. But I think many women have in their history at least one guy they’ve slept with, where your whole body shivers and you go, ‘Why did I do that?’ ”

That analysis comes courtesy of the Margaret Mead of comedy, the Steve Martin of bad sex: Sandra Tsing Loh of the Valley. Monologuist and National Public Radio commentator Loh underlines her point by revealing her own horrific past, which included one icky boyfriend with big white meaty toes and earnest nature sandals.

Despite that attractive image, we are managing to lunch with Loh within spitting distance of West Hollywood’s Tiffany Theater, where she is performing “Bad Sex With Bud Kemp,” her tell-all solo show about that personal patch of single-girl hell known as dating.

“I had a thing happen last week where at the end of the second act, two men in the front row get up and run from the theater, and the door slams behind them. So I’m going, ‘I don’t think it’s a man-hating show at all.’ I think it’s a man-loving show. It’s a man-celebrating show.

“And then it turned out later that they were foreign, and they wanted their money back. They said I was talking too fast, and they couldn’t understand me. And then my producer figures out they’re walking up Sunset Boulevard, and they see a big sign that says ‘Sex’ on it, they go into the theater, and instead of a tasty little sex film, they have a neurotic woman coming out and going la la la, just the opposite of what they wanted.”

Anyway, Loh wants you to know that some of her best friends are men. Certainly her husband, Mike Miller, qualifies. As a man, that is. So she’d like to take this opportunity to reassure Los Angeles that she does, in fact, enjoy sleeping with Mike, whose pet name is not Bud Kemp.

“For the sake of my husband, I have to go on the record.”

Wake us up if we’re snoring. What could be unfunnier than bliss? But fret not over Loh’s conversion to connubiality.

Take her marriage. Please.

“It’s just this thing of spending 24 hours with one person for years and years and years. Marriage is totally great, but no one told me about the hours.”

Ba dum dum.

One final note. Loh followers will be familiar with the odd, shopping-bag-lovin’ figure of her father, Eugene Loh. Sure enough, there was dad on opening night, sitting within grabbing distance of his shopping bag, which was smack between the stage and the audience.

“It usually has frosted flakes, boxes full of scientific papers and RTD schedules. He has a car, but he’s saving the planet. His first words to me after the show are, ‘I took the bus here, so unless someone gives me a ride home, I can’t go to your party.’ ”

Now, Dad can certainly take credit for producing a good girl. But he didn’t stop there. He fathered a fun girl. Which could only mean: “He took the bus home.”