I can’t tell a joke to save my life, but when my husband was courting me (heh! Couldn’t think of a more old fashioned word than that!) and we’d run into those small pockets of uncomfortable silence as each of us tried desperately to think of something to say — he would throw in a joke. And I’d laugh, even if I didn’t think it was that funny. (He was cute. What can I say?)
Over the course of those first months, I heard a lot of jokes. He told them very well. Good timing, and an excellent delivery. And he was cute, which definitely didn’t hurt!
Then my sister and I decided to do a little upgrading. (It was funny. When I was in high school all I wanted to do was get out. Almost immediately upon getting out, though, I started upgrading, so I could go to university.) We took a biology course, and for some reason, we were surrounded by a whole bunch of guys, who needed to take Biology 30 to further their own careers.
We were youngish and cute, and so when we were having coffee, they’d end up at our table. One of those awkward silences hit — and one of THEM decided to tell a joke. And I, being the bad ass I was, told the punch line.
I got big laughs by stealing this guy’s thunder. He told another one. I knew the punchline to that one too. Another guy got in on the fun — but I knew that one too. In fact, there was not one joke that they could come up with that I did not know the punchline to. I became a teeny bit of a legend in that class — and it was all because of my husband.
So I married him. Hey, you don’t find a guy how can help propel you to legend status often, now do you?
Can I remember any of those jokes anymore? Not one. But I bet I’d remember the punchline!