The Blues

Funny ‘Bout That

On February 23, 2012, in Family, Friends, Life, by Rosie

Over a group dinner a few years ago, an old school friend said ‘a funny person is always sexy.’

Naturally, I blushed. We were surrounded by the old gals from St Vatican’s and conversation was flying. Menus hadn’t been touched, no one was bothered with preliminaries of ‘weather’s been nice,’ or ‘have you been watching the Games?’

It was straight into discourse about issues, events, opinions, decisions.

That’s fine, but when Frannie made her decree about funny people being sexy, I thought she was referring to me. I started to preen. And think up an array of jokes or expressions.

We’ve known each other for ages. I knew she was attracted, but she’s never mentioned that I was …

Oh, sorry. She hadn’t meant me. No, of course, Frannie was referring to her life partner. Okay, yes.

The conversation continued and Frannie — as is her way — pressed home the salient points. Looks fade, bodies age, hairlines decrease on the head and might increase on the woman. Items droop, skin mottles, bits dribble, posture bobbles and things take longer. Or might be over before you wake up. Or you might go to sleep and be unaware …

We got the point.

However, humour is not wearied by age. How damned wonderful! She argued that the person making you laugh is incredibly sexy, is attractive and people want to be with them for the fabulous way laughing (you know, that ridiculous, loss-of-control belly laughing) makes you feel.

Perhaps how other things might have felt before you turned 40, 50 or 80?

Speaking of 80 and humour, my favourite octogenarians discovered that their special son-in-law enjoys wearing his wife’s polo shirts (more on that next post) and spent some time sharing a cuppa and laugh with a few of their children. Afterwards, Chicken said that she hadn’t laughed so much and so hard in ages. Everything had lifted — okay, not the nooks and crannies affected by age and gravity — but spirits and the light of her face.

Laughter? The most incredible medicine. Humour maketh the sexy man or woman?

The more I thought about Frannie’s decree and the older I get, the more I agree. We tend to gravitate towards a person that can make us laugh. The harshest advisors in our lives might suggest ‘culling’ the individuals who tend to drain us and cultivate relationships with those who get us giggling. In reality, we probably need a balance.

And, as we discussed with Frannie that night, not all humour is ‘good’ humour. As humour is such a personal thing — one friend from St Vatican’s finds Seinfeld hilarious, another deplores his comedic style — it’s hard to know exactly how laughter will be generated. The humour that demeans and depersonalises, strips goodness off an individual or group? It’s not my cup-of-tea unless it’s supremely clever and originally done, although I know many people who love it.

I adore a quiet, dry wit, but perhaps my own is a slapstick, loud circus tent.

Doesn’t matter. Horses. Courses.

Pop Jones is developing a huge sense of humour at the moment, but it can come out as totes precocious in an 8 YO. Out of place, wince-worthy, loud, uncalled for. At a similar age, I was fostering a sense of fun, but in those days (pre WW2) kiddos were meant to be seen and not heard. Or, heard from their room and never, EVER rude. It’s hard to watch Pop go through this time. It’s really difficult not to send her to her own room. I end up telling her she’s inappropriate, she’ll never amount to anything, she needs to stick a bag over her head and stay in her room forevs.

When she bursts in to tears, I remember a phrase that a sis and I often share: ’Some people should never try to be funny.’

LOL.

PS: the funniest thing I’ve read today is from Gavin Leaf on Twitter: I wonder if Rick Astley struggles when Lent starts. (A joke for 80s music lovers and Catholics everywhere.)