“Why did you and Beatrice (not her real name but I couldn’t think of one less appropriate if she ever read this) break up after eight years?”
Everyone wanted to know why. I told people it was for a lot of reasons that were too personal to get into. That was a lie. It came down to the fact that we were not comedically compatible. It didn’t take eight years for me to find that out. It took me eight years to realize that it was as important to me as it was.
She just didn’t think I was funny. Or at best, she thought that my sense of humor was goofy and I took jokes too far1 . Every other girlfriend I had, thought I was funny. In fact, I got dates just because I could make girls laugh.
Shortly after we started dating, but before we booked the U-Haul, a couple of friends invited us to go to a Melissa Etheridge concert. She named off everyone who was going: Jane and Sue; Ann and Kelly; Flo and Mona; and Rose and Beatrice.” “Holy shit, when were we conjunctionalized? Was there a ceremony? Did we get nice presents?” Blank stare. OK, not brilliant, but I have a great delivery and everyone else laughed. I should have taken this as a warning sign but I missed it.
If we were in bed and I thought something was funny I went ahead and said it without any regard for the current level of intimacy. That drove her out of her mind and not in the good way.
Once we were in the grocery store in the “women’s products” aisle. She picked up a douche package. I said, “Get something else; I don’t like that flavor.” The woman next to me laughed. A couple further down gave me a dirty look and walked away.” But Beatrice just glared at me and said, “Why do you say that stuff?” “Um; because it’s funny.” “No,” she said, “it really isn’t. “
Every year during Lent I go out of my way to put together jokes appropriate for the season so I’ll have one joke for each day of Easter Week. The punch lines for my two favorites are “I can see my house from up here” and, “No you dummies, nails out of the feet first, and then the hands.” Head-spinning would not be an exaggeration to Beatrice’s reaction to my “Jesus on the cross” jokes.
So, I stopped trying to make her laugh. If something amusing popped into my head, I kept it to myself. And I resented it. I was still funny when we were around other people, and on the phone with other people, and eventually on the computer with other people. And that pissed her off; she considered it cheating. Finally, we were at a point where we needed to work to keep the relationship going and I just didn’t feel like making the effort. And that as they say, was that.
So why did we start going out in the first place and why did we move in together and why did I stay with her for eight years? We did have some things in common. We both came from large families that we absolutely adore and both families accepted the idea of “us” almost immediately. Also, she had a son and understood how much time my kids would consume. We had the same politics. Alright, already stop badgering me. She was really hot, the sex was great, and she is an amazing cook. Oh, crap. What did I do?
1 In my opinion, Mel Brooks ended the campfire scene too soon. I would have included a crazy-eyed farting canine.
[Originally posted on LezBang.]
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