Banter is everything to me. Funny banter. I say this. He says that. We collapse (not literally) in laughter. I took for granted that all couples do it - like sex. On both fronts I was wrong. (People confide in me...)
Laughing together is like making love with your clothes on. Jimmy and I spent a lifetime laughing. Early in our marriage I learned that pointing and laughing when your husband is nude is a no-no. Pointing is fine. Laughing is great. Undressed, the combo is a mood breaker.
Armed with that vital morsel of experience I am marching into the world. First I trotted out to the virtual world. Then, I progressed to talking on the phone. Can someone please tell me... where are all the funny guys?
I've talked to four perspective dates this week and maybe I need a new vitamin regiment, but the drone of their voices made me fight to stay awake. I know I'm a tough audience, but don't start a sentence by saying, "This is a funny story." It's not. Nine times out of ten it's a bedtime story.
I love the ones who say, "I have a great sense of humor." Should they have to announce it?
Guess what, Mr. Catskills, we've been on the phone for seven or eight minutes already. That humor should have surfaced by now.
"Do you keep a Kosher home?" is on the J-date form and according to my nephew Chuck, "If you keep Kosher you can't be funny." His theory is not mixing meat and dairy takes too much concentration and this causes you to be serious. Apparently, lack of pork in the home strips you of your funny bone.
On Saturday night I have a date with someone kosher. He's seems like a sweet man, a widower and I'm hoping it was his wife who insisted they keep their kitchen kosher. Maybe, he just needs someone to accidentally bring him a ham and cheese sandwich and plop it on his counter.
That ought to test his sense of humor.