So when I met Pun Guy at a popular Mexican Restaurant, I was thrilled this reasonably attractive guy – with a great sense of humor - was my waiter, and was flirting with me. With a shared smile and a margarita on the house, my girlfriend and I were giggling at our dumb luck – not only was he the only straight waiter, he was FUNNY! Yippie!
He took me to a movie and along the way, we passed a pretzel shop. “Hmm,” said Pun Guy, “Let me see if I have any DOUGH.” Oh, ha ha ha, I politely giggled. “Well,” he continued, “maybe we don’t KNEED it.” Ooh, he he he, I politely stammered. “I’ll get you one...if you’re KNOTty!” Hmm, aahhh…I politely trailed off.
The puns came in waves, drowning me with the sheer force of volume – for every 3 sentences he would utter, 1 would be a pun. 1 of 3. 33%. Just like my income, a third of this date I wanted a refund. I could have confessed to him; a close relative just died. To which he would have responded, what, her hair? Died / dyed, get it? Dear god.
The movie began and he fought with the actors on the screen – trying to out-joke them. I don’t recall the movie, but I’ll never forget the happy joke man next to me who received an hour and a half’s worth of angry glares, stares and shushes. That did not stop him, no; it only stirred up the tide pool where jokes go to die. The wilting looks were fodder for his amusement – he thought he had an audience and played it to the hilt: a bag of goobers = “call me nuts!” Popcorn = “is this corny?” Coca-cola = “Coke? I don’t do drugs!”
I politely stopped all polite laughs, sunk into my seat, and waited for the movie – and the comedy set – to end. Ready to go home, but guilted into dinner, we were again at a Mexican Restaurant. Trying to make the best of this worst situation, he offered, “Can I tell you a joke?” I felt a snap in my brain, and he continued “I made it up and it’s my favorite joke.” My brain was numb, I didn’t protest. “Ok. What does a Spanish Cow say?” My mouth moved, “I don’t know, what?” “Mooey.” What? “Mooey. Get it? Cows say Moo & Spanish people say Muey, so…Mooey! Get it? I made it up!!”
What on earth could’ve been worse than this date? You got it, running into Pun Guy at a second job interview. In the room, with two other hopefuls, Pun Guy started his set. And the room was his – his high energy and excitement were contagious. But I’d previously caught the virus and thankfully was Pun Guy resistant. Then the inevitable turn of the tide…Pun Guy went from humorous, to hokey to horrible. And he pulled me down with his sinking ship – he told the interviewers we had dated. “Once!” I screamed in protest, “we only went out once!’ Too late, guilty by association. And down into the murky waters I sank, Pun Guy and me, two fish in the sea.
Why do we want a guy who can make us laugh? Well, it’s fun to laugh and you can burn a few calories, but really? A guy who can make me laugh knows me; he listens to me, he’s smart and can see the smart in me, he can take me from a place of pain and not just pull me out of it, but relate to it. A guy with a “personality” is simply a guy who listens.
So the lesson today is to the men, not the women: Men; when women say we want a man with a sense of humor, don’t audition for The Last Comic Standing, don’t ask us “Does your face hurt…cause it’s killing me!” (dad’s signature joke), don’t get your personality from Mad Libs – just listen to us, respond to us, and if the mood’s right; tickle us.
And don’t talk about the damn pretzel, just buy it.
1 comment:
I can totally hear you in my head when you politely laugh at this douchebag. I think I've gotten that polite laugh a few times over the years. ;)
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