It is nearly impossible to compete with other men on 100hookup. This is especially true when these men make outrageous claims about themselves.  However, I am able to confidently tell women true facts about myself that cannot be refuted by research.

There’s nothing wrong with being a man with a Bachelor’s degree in History that does amateur stand-up comedy.  Ladies, who aren’t single, ask your boyfriend/husband/fiancé to get up on stage in front of thirty drunken men that are upset that the Houston Texans just lost another game.  Now try to make them laugh.  Though I recently found out that this is almost impossible, as hardcore, grieving NFL fans do not care about your humorous adventures in dating, I at least try.  It is often not fun or rewarding, but it does give me confidence in everyday situations that I didn’t know I had.

I’m no longer nervous about telling my boss to stop yelling at me.  I’ve also lost the inherent fear of becoming a teacher.  If I can stand up to angry adults, I can probably stand up to bored children.  Though my stand-up routine is largely unusable in a classroom situation, I am not terrified of public speaking.  My high school debate teacher once told our class that though he is very good at speaking in public, he still has a lifelong fear of public speaking.  Though I would grow to be horrified by this warlock-like man, I now understand what he meant.

Bartenders have always been my friends.  They bring me beer.  They’re usually friendly.  They’re often times girls.  Sometimes, they are friendly girls that bring me beer all in one.  Recently, I ran into this rare species.  Not only did she fit all of those characteristics, but she was pretty.  We exchanged numbers before I left.  When I came back a few days later, I found out that giving her my name, phone number, email address, and blog address was too much information.  I remember thinking at the time that it may be a bit much.  Oh well.

Despite this, she actually remembered me.  Not only that but she had gone to see me do stand-up comedy the one Monday night I didn’t go.  Well, now there’s no way that she believed that I did stand-up comedy.  I told her I was doing it again that very night and she told me to text her right before I go on.  I texted her, did my set, and she showed up right after I finished.  Okay, there is no way she would believe me now.  I would have to just be generally funny around her to maintain my aura of hilarity.  Well that failed quickly.

I texted her a few days later, but got no response.  Maybe I am going crazy and actually never did stand-up comedy; instead I told jokes in front of my closet mirror that doesn’t exist.  I love you anyway, bartender lady.

As mentioned earlier, I decided to try to fulfill my lifelong dream of stand-up comedy last week.  I found a super neat database online that lists all open mic comedy venues in the Houston area.  I called several of the places on the list, but learned the awful truth about the modern transliteration of “open mic.” Open mic, today, almost exclusively pertains to poetry, or to music, which is essentially poetry with a melody.  I stumbled upon this reality quickly.  The first few places that I called either didn’t exist, didn’t host open mic anymore, or did host open mic, but primarily for poetry and/or music only.

The first place I tried was a bar that ironically used to be a comedy club.  Today, it is far less funny and far more of a straightforward bar.  I figured since it was ‘open mic night’ that it would primarily be for amateur comics.  Instead, it was a mix of amateurs and people who really had their junk together.  The host picked the order of the comics randomly, so I had to wait an agonizing three hours before I finally went on and had to follow a gentleman that had been on several television shows.  I stumbled on stage, almost tripping over my profuse, exploding sweat and my failed dreams of fame.  I got through about half of my set before not just completely forgetting my jokes, but also where I was and who all of the people looking at me were.  My friends tell me I ended the set demanding to know where I was.  At least I started strong?

The next bar I tried was a battle for survival.  Though I called beforehand, and the woman whom I talked with was very courteous and informative, the actual place was death.  It was in a bad neighborhood.  There was no sign for the place.  When I walked in, there was really loud music on and I asked to talk to the owner.  When she came not only had she become a man, but she had also become angry, loud, and seemingly homicidal.  I got out of there and was on to my next venue on my road to comic obscurity!

The next place didn’t have a phone number, so I used the address to get there.  Not only was it a grocery store, but it was also a hotel.  Not only was it a hotel, but it was also a bar.  Not only was it a bar, but it was a bar that had never nor will ever host any type of open mic night whatsoever.

Here’s to my meteoric rise to mediocrity.

Today, I decided that I am going to try stand-up comedy.  People often tell me that I should do stand-up, but I didn’t think I was physically up to it.  I mean, standing in one place, for an extended period of time, whilst also saying things funny enough to make people laugh is difficult.  I don’t think I have it in me.  And before I do any of that, I would have to like to write jokes.  How is that even possible?  Jokes have been around since the caveman farted in another caveman’s face.  That’s just classic caveman.  My point here is that you can’t write jokes because every joke one can perceive has already been…well…perceived.  Anything I say will be seen as plagiarized.  This is, of course, assuming that there will be people watching my performance that also have an extensive database of jokes stored in their brains, and that is just not technologically possible yet.

I sat down at my computer and started typing.  I wrote about my personal life.  I wrote about my flaws.  By the time it was finished, I read it.  Not only were there zero jokes, but it read like a memoir of an embittered elderly man’s long and unfulfilling life.  I think I even mentioned crying in the piece.

Maybe I should try observational humor.  hookup comedians are pretty good at that, right?  For example, today I ate lunch at Panda Express and dinner at a local Greek restaurant.  Also, in between meals, I met some friends at a coffee shop.  Those were the most exciting things that happened to me today?  No wonder that old man is bitter about his hollow life.