Seeking love in the write places

After reading Lori Gottlieb’s missive on the laments of dating a comedy writer (“Don’t Make Me Laugh,” March 3), a wave of relief came over me as I realized I was not alone. I, too, feel her pain. It may come as a surprise to most of your readers that those same people who make us laugh once a week can leave us feeling just as hollow as an episode of “Yes, Dear” in our personal lives. Like Lori, I am not ashamed to admit that I cannot seem to find comfort, companionship and acceptable sex by dating a Hollywood scribe.

There was Carolyn, the teen drama writer who three minutes into our first date wanted to “up the stakes” by tripping the waiter and sending our dinners into the couple at the next table. Next was Stacy, supervising producer of a procedural legal drama whose methodical dates and perfunctory sex left me as bored as a night watchman at a pallet warehouse.

Then there was Jonelle. She was pretty and smart. And although our love for one another seemed to be enough to keep us going, we needed the attention from others to survive. Without this, we knew our relationship would wither and die. A few months later it did. But just like “Murder One” we could hold our heads high knowing we did the best we could.

TV can make us laugh, make us cry and educate us, but for love, we should look elsewhere -- maybe in the fields of medicine or law.

Michael McCarthy

Los Angeles