On Dating a Comedian

by kaelikennedy

It’s time for something I’ve been trying to write for a bunch of months now.

At some point before Ryan and I were together, I googled “Dating a comedian.” I guess I just wondered what the internet had to say on that matter, or something? Shhhh, don’t worry about it.

Turns out, (almost) nothing nice.

First, let’s be real, it’s not just women that date comedians. Sarah Silverman, for example, has definitely had boyfriends. Also there are gay male comics. Also a whole brilliant spectrum of queerness!

Second, I have so much to say on this that you can consider this post a “Part 1,” to be continued.

Look, here’s what I know about Dating a Comedian, or at least, the one I’m dating. He’s as good as I am, if not better, at gauging how I’m feeling. He gets so, so excited when he can make me laugh. At shows, I get to see his jokes land well and watch him at his most proud. He makes me laugh after I come down from a sobbing fit. I get to help him think about his jokes and his path in comedy. I get to pretend I’m his Jeannie Gaffigan, his Jessica Seinfeld. He knows when a joke “works” or doesn’t, so he is capable of adjusting with feedback from me about my comfort zones and needs. He’s incredibly communicative. We have the same taste in comedy (most of the time, sorry Weird Al.) So far I’m only in one joke of his, and certainly not an integral part (It’s an autocorrect joke, I’m the one he was texting.) I’m so fucking proud of him as a comedian and as a person.

I don’t get why someone would write off all comedians as potential partners.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’m some relationship guru. I’m not saying my relationship is perfect for anyone, maybe not even me. I am saying, though, that I think I know how to effectively communicate and how to maintain expectations in my relationship. If Ryan and I don’t work out, I’m not going to write some scathing personal essay about how comedians are terrible people and I’m not going to go back and communicate the things I wasn’t happy with in the past in some new, connected light based on a fundamental aspect of my partner’s personal identity.

There are people who act douchey. There are comedian douchebags, there are writer douchebags, there are unemployed douchebags, there are corporate lawyer douchebags. I’m sorry if you dated someone who treated you douchily. I know that sucks, I truly do. It makes you act like a different person, it makes you scared, and it sometimes worms its way into your brain pretty permanently. I have all the sympathy in the world for people who have been used in mean-spirited jokes against their will.

If you don’t like comedy, or if you know there are topics you’re iffy on (we all have them, whether they’re political issues or personal experiences you’re triggered by), or if you don’t want to be around comedy all the time – don’t date a comedian. But don’t forget that it’s nobody’s fault you’re not compatible with a person.

But here’s the thing – I love comedy. I hear about pretty much every comedy related news story, I go to so many open mics I can confidently tell you 75% of some of my friends’ material. I could certainly tell you 99% of Ryan’s. (Tell you, not perform. Haven’t got that performing thing down yet.) I think my boyfriend is hilarious.

If you like comedy, but someone has made a cruel or mean-spirited joke about you onstage – tell them that was shitty. Explain to them precisely why it was shitty. Tell them that supporting their comedy is important to you (unless that’s a lie, then see that other “if you don’t like comedy” paragraph) but not more important than your relationship. Talk about what the joke meant to your partner, whether they truly feel what they’re saying, what the joke means to you, and whether it matters to you if the joke is “true” if they’re still going to tell it. Talk talk talk, figure things out, and if their responses are sub-par, you’re not compatible with them.

If they knowingly hurt you again, then the relationship was bad. Comedy’s not at fault for an inconsiderate person.

Ryan made a joke that hurt me yesterday morning. It wasn’t in front of anyone, it was just between the two of us. He was trying to scare me, and after saying “boo” to no avail, he said “the fuuuuuuture.” It should be noted that I now actually think this is very funny, but in the moment I was in a li’l baby rotten mood, I hadn’t had coffee yet, and it hurt. I semi-calmly explained that I didn’t find that joke funny. Ryan felt bad. I felt bad for coming across as humorless, like I take myself too seriously to be with a comedian. (It was “just a joke,” after all.) We both felt bad and we both explained why. When I later talked to my therapist about the whole thing, he pointed out that it’s okay for there to be a moment when a joke that would “normally” be kosher doesn’t pass.

It’s okay feel shitty about something your partner did or said, and it’s okay to ditch someone for disrespecting your boundaries. It’s not okay, though, to stay silent and resent who they are as a person because they don’t change their behavior.

And hey, look at that, I used my partner in an essay. Never date a writer.

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