Laughing at a comic isn’t always a good thing


In 2002, Basketball Boy and I went out on our first date to dinner and a comedy show at the DC Improv. We saw a comic who had found success in TV and film in the 1990s, but was now doing stand-up at a small venue. He still put on a great show, though, and a few of his bits made me laugh so hard that my stomach hurt.

Three years later, Funny Boy returned to DC, and a group of us went to see him perform. I got up in the middle of the show to stretch. While in the lobby, a large, handsome man approached me. It turned out that he was Funny Boy's bodyguard, Greg. I was surprised that Funny Boy needed a bodyguard, and Greg agreed with me that he didn't. He thought that Funny Boy just liked the attention that a bodyguard attracted. Interesting. Greg and I talked during much of the show, and he asked if I wanted to go out for a drink afterward. I had plans with my friends that night, but I told Greg that I would call him before he left town.

Two nights later, I was driving back from an Orioles game and decided to see what Greg was up to. Funny Boy was starting his show soon, and Greg suggested that I come by the Improv to grab a drink. I arrived at the club and was glad that I did. I spent most of the night hanging out with the opening comic and Greg in the back of the venue, and we had a blast.

After Funny Boy was done, he came to the back and looked at me. He asked if I would come out with him and some friends to a nearby lounge. I wanted to spend more time with Greg, and thought Funny Boy would be well, funny, so I said sure.

Funny Boy had also invited some other girls to the lounge. From their outfits, it appeared as though they were in the entertainment industry. I don't mean that with judgment behind it, but it's not that tough to spot strippers in an Ann Taylor/Banana Republic/J Crew town like DC.

We arrived at the lounge and one of Funny Boy's friends from high school joined us. He also had asked a pretty, petite Indian girl to meet him there. She seemed very sweet and brought along two of her friends. So, there we were at the table: Funny Boy, the bodyguard, three petite Indian girls, the high school friend, two strippers and me. Remember that game on Sesame Street — which one of these is not like the other? Well, at this table, I definitely didn't blend, but that didn't phase me.

The strippers kept going to the bathroom to powder their noses. The powder was not the type that you could purchase at a cosmetic counter. The sweet girl that Funny Boy had invited seemed uncomfortable, but at least she had her friends with her. I talked a lot with Greg and the high school friend, and the mood lightened (and livened) up when we all started dancing.

I took a break from the dance floor, and Funny Boy and I started talking one-on-one. He said that he was attracted to me. I responded,

"Thanks. That surprises me, though, since I'm not your type."

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

"Because I'm not a petite Indian girl or a stripper."

"Well, you are the girl I want to leave with."

I was flattered, but I also tried not to think too much of it. I felt as though he was attracted to me because I seemed like a challenge. And, I wasn't sure if I was even attracted to him.

We left the lounge, and one of the strippers was so out of it that she could barely walk. Funny Boy told Greg to make sure that they were okay and take them home. (I realize that Funny Boy was paying Greg, but I would hope that my friends wouldn't task someone else with helping me out if I wasn't feeling well.)

Funny Boy and I walked to his hotel around the corner, and he invited me up to his suite in The Mayflower for a drink. I told him that I would be happy to join him for a drink, but that I wasn't going to sleep with him. He was fine with that, and suggested that I meet him upstairs in ten minutes.

In ten minutes, Funny Boy had turned on light jazz, lit candles in both rooms and changed into a t-shirt and flannels. He became very intense, very quickly. I was talking about how I hoped that the girls were ok. I asked if the drinks were very strong at the lounge, and Funny Boy got very defensive, insisting that he doesn't drink alcohol. (OK. Fine. Calm down, buddy.) He was heading to New York City after DC, and I made some silly comment with a Brooklyn accent. Then, he got very offended.

"Why are you doing impressions?" Funny Boy inquired.

"Umm…because it's funny. I say things in different accents all the time," I replied.

"You are not a comedian. You are not supposed to make jokes. I am a comedian. That's what I do."


I wasn't sure if I was interested in Funny Boy before I went up to his room, but now I knew that I wasn't attracted to him. Within a minute, he got on top of me and started kissing me. He was one of those kissers who just sticks his tongue down your throat with no skill, direction or passion. I sensed by the movement in his flannel pants that he was excited, but each second with his tongue so far down my throat was one too many. I felt as though I was at the doctor's office and he was checking to see if I had strep. Eww!

I excused myself soon after that. As I exited the hotel, Greg called and we had a nice talk. Greg was articulate, caring and fun. If he didn't live in LA, I would have gone out with him again. Funny Boy, by contrast, gave me his number, and I promptly deleted it. It's a good thing when a guy makes me laugh because of his humor and personality. It's not a good thing when a guy makes me laugh because of how he kisses.

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