“I haven’t touched anyone in a year” is a thing I said on stage last night. I didn’t mean this literally, but I haven’t made it to first base in 361 days–not that I’m keeping track. I’m not even on deck yet. I’m just keeping the bench warm for hotter, cooler girls with higher batting averages than me. I don’t play baseball, so that metaphor might have totally missed the mark. In case you couldn’t glean the deep meaning of that metaphor, I’m saying I haven’t kissed anyone in a year.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this statistic, especially since I’m picky. Plus, if you’ve made it 11 months, you might as well make it a year, you know? How lame would it be to have to tell people you went 11 months and 3 weeks without kissing anyone? It’s like missing a train by 10 seconds, which is so much worse than missing a train by 10 minutes. You can withhold that kiss long enough to have a solid year under your belt.
But sometimes my stage persona manifests its way into a self-fulfilling prophecy. I suck at dating, which I talk about on stage. Maybe you had the hots for my Anne Frank vibe until I mentioned that I haven’t touched anyone in a year. It’s a catch-22. I talk about my personal life on stage, and right now my life includes a lot of not touching anyone, but apparently my lack of sexual endeavors isn’t inherently attractive, as I once thought it was.
I have looked in the eyes of the most attractive audience members and said, “I haven’t licked a dick in a year. And haven’t given a blow job in 2” (a very true story for another time). Maybe those aren’t the most sensual words ever muttered, but a huge turn-on for me would be someone who got turned on by that joke. I’m not saying I’ll only date audience members, but someone I date will inevitably see me do comedy.
Sometimes I worry my jokes hinder my chances with potential mates. But right now, I’m putting comedy above dating. Because who’s gonna be there for me if I get sick? Someone who has met my family, driven me hours just to show me their favorite pile of rocks in the US (my imaginary mate is super outdoorsy and doesn’t quite understand romance or good time management) and spent years listening to my anxieties? Or comedy? Definitely comedy. People’s love is conditional. Comedy can’t get mad if I forget its birthday.
I’m still relatively young (relative to anyone who’s older than me). I’ve got the rest of my life ahead of me, whether that’s 60 days or 60 years. I can find someone to touch my boobs later. But how much longer will my hot take on virginity be relevant? Probably only as long as I stay a virgin. So the decision seems pretty obvious to me.
I’m having fun with comedy. Plus, I’ve heard breaking up sucks. I’ve even see people cry about it. And yes, I’ve cried because of comedy, but we always have great make-up sets.
Even if my comedy deters people from hitting on me after a show, it makes those who do hit on me that much cooler. Because if you come up to me after I told you about the time I licked a dick twice and changed my mind, you’re a keeper.