Don’t make me laugh
Like most women, I’m looking for a guy with a sense of humor. But I avoid dating comedy writers for the same reason I avoid watching network sitcoms: the laugh track. Because as annoying as it is to listen to -- imagine a guy who expects you to become one.
That’s right. Go on a date with a comedy writer, and he’ll make you into his personal, one-woman laugh track. While you’re innocently trying to enjoy your fried calamari appetizer, your date will deliver one-liner after one-liner, in that same monotonous three-jokes-per-page sitcom rhythm you hear on “Everybody Loves Raymond.” And you, in turn, will be required to laugh heartily at every joke.
Even if a joke is directed at the waitress (trust me, it will be -- but at least she gets a tip for laughing), you’ll be expected to giggle appreciatively. It’s like watching TV, except there’s no changing the channel, no TiVo-ing out the bad parts, no talking on the phone with the volume muted in the background. In fact, don’t even try to talk, because your date will interrupt every fifth word with a joke. For two solid hours, you’ll be pelted incessantly with clever and not-so-clever witticisms like bullets from a fully loaded AK-47, and there’s no escaping his one-liner of fire.
Maybe you don’t see why this experience is so brutal. You might even think it’s easy to sit there, eat your free fancy dinner (sitcom writers are loaded), hear a few jokes and not get a word in edgewise.
Let me tell you, it’s exhausting.
You can snort, cackle and double over at 20 of his jokes in a row, but if one time you merely chuckle (or simply smile, or God forbid, show no reaction at all), he’ll sulk for the rest of the meal. He might even express his anger by making mean-spirited wisecracks, first about the busboy, then your fellow diners and finally -- if you accidentally miss your laughter cue again -- you. (“Is that a bandana or a blouse you’re wearing? Just kidding!”)
It would be great if women could avoid this situation simply by avoiding comedy writers. Unfortunately, there are lawyers in L.A. who call themselves “creative” and doctors who say they’ve gotten positive feedback on a “Scrubs” spec. But even men with no professional comedy ambitions may treat your date like open-mike night at the local club. And in that case, you should too: Remember the two-drink minimum, and the evening will go by much more quickly.
When women say we’re looking for funny men, we just mean that we don’t like dull men. If we’re contemplating eating breakfast with someone for the next 60 years, he shouldn’t put us back to sleep. We’re looking for charm and wit, though, not Coney Island shtick.
But no matter how hard we try to explain this, some men won’t give up their comedy routines. They’ll even resort to silly puns in moments of panic. (“Sure, I’ll look at the whine list ... but I don’t have any complaints.”)
Men feel that being funny is part of their masculinity. It’s how they court us. It’s their role in the mating dance.
Which is why men often argue that women are sending mixed messages by saying we want funny men, then giving them grief for cracking a few jokes in order to woo us. I don’t have an answer for that. Except to say that at least we’re clear about some things. Like, when we say we want a man with money -- we really do want a man with money.
As long as he’s funny, of course.
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Lori Gottlieb, a commentator for NPR, is the author of “Stick Figure: A Diary of My Former Self” (Simon & Schuster). She can be reached at weekend@latimes.com.