What's so funny?

“Look at those bear feet! They’re bare!”

He's looking at me like I'm nuts. He doesn't get it. Not even a groan. He really doesn't get it. Maybe he'll never get it – my weird, off the wall, blurtings - what I think is funny.

But he's so nice! Nice guys don’t come around all that often; or if they do, the rest of the package ain’t so hot - the package with wife and two kids.

Let's see. He's kind. He's a gentleman. He's gainfully employed. He's single. But - and it's a big but - he has no sense of humour. At least not my kind of humour. I like to laugh. I need to laugh. What if we could never laugh together? What kind of relationship would that be?

Don't get me wrong, I don't spend my life thinking everything is full of yuks. I also happen to be a pretty big cry-baby. I cry over practically anything that moves me.

Now, that's another thing, he never knows what to do when I cry at a movie. He'll mumble an uncomfortable, are you okay, without looking me in the eye or ask in bewilderment, you think that's sad; what's sad about it? It doesn't seem to matter that I've told him it's just the way I am and there's nothing he can do, except maybe hand me a tissue.

No sense of humour. No empathy. This is doomed!

"Wait, that was a pun wasn't it? I get it. Bear feet. Bare feet. You're very funny, you know that?"



The First 50 Words of this began here.