Broken Funny Bone

“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.]

For Your Listening Enjoyment

Here's my 9-year-old grandson practicing for his elementary school concert. He started playing in November of 2008. I'm not an expert on music, but I'm pretty amazed and excited by how fast he's progressed.

How About You Just Mind Your Own Business Next Time?

This is directed to those folks who think they are improving our lives but who in fact, are trashing them. This particular edition is dedicated to the 1st moron who took out the jukebox and replaced it with piped in music. Like lemmings, others followed and you have all left me wondering, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

I have loved jukeboxes since I was an 8 or 9 years old and started sneaking off to the pizza joynt around the corner from my house. I would return empty Coke bottles and save the pennies until I could afford an order of garlic bread or sometimes fries. As I recall, the food was tasty but culinary delight was not the main draw.

I went for the jukebox and more important, the waitresses who fed it quarters. The best time to go was in the afternoon right after I got out of school and before the dinner rush. If they weren't very busy, they would mooch quarters from the bartender.

Over the years, I found out that you can learn a lot about a woman if you pay attention to how she uses the jukebox. It goes far beyond what type of music she decides to play. Sure, Patsy Cline, standards vs. dance music, Top 40 all yield clues about her state of mind. But you also needed to pay attention to her relationship to the jukebox. Was she dancing with the jukebox while choosing her songs? Did she play the same song over and over again? Maybe she asked strangers what they'd like to hear or even asked strangers for quarters.

And now that important resource for delving into a woman's psyche is gone. Happy, Motherfucker?

Why I Bought the 20 Oz. Pilsner Glasses

When I say, “I’m going to have a beer; would you like one?” There are only two possible correct answers.

“Yes please” or “No thank you.”

“I’ll just have a sip or two of yours,” is not one of your choices.

But, that’s what my favorite ex would sometimes reply. Not because she couldn’t belt back a cerveza or two. The woman could throw down when she wanted to. Maybe she thought I would find it endearing in a coupley kind of way. No, I did not. I've never had a taste for ½ a beer. What’s the point?

So, I bought 20 oz. pilsner glasses. After that, if she wanted to share mine, I’d open two bottles of beer. I would fill my pilsner glass and give her the remaining ½ of a bottle of beer.

My friends tell me that that’s why I’m single. Most likely, there are scads better reasons than that, but it’ll do.

Cheers.