Four Minutes To Fame

Comedians often have a difficult time with relationships. We get along with each other just fine. Put two comedians on a desert island and they’ll be fast friends, exchanging witty ripostes and bon mots, right up until they have to eat each other to survive-- giving new meaning to the term happy meal. However, relationships of a more romantic nature are often the victim of a comedian’s life out of town. Roaming the backroads and Main Streets of America is hard on one’s romantic life, and makes meeting new romantic prospects even tougher.

Some comedians think this is ideal. No commitments, no strings attached... a romantic partner in every port, after a fashion. For all you ladies out there, I am an enlightened New Age man and am fond of romance and commitment. I admit, it’s an acquired taste-- sort of like Greek food. Ladies, I will say whatever you want me to say and even act like I’m listening whenever you want.

However, there are many other comedians-- both men and women-- who embrace the freedom the road provides. For me, a life like that can get a little empty. One can only enjoy complimentary motel rooms and a surfeit of local fast-food cuisine options for so long before one wants to share it with someone.

For many working comedians, the only folks one gets to know in each town are the clubs’ wait staff and maybe the booker. Dating any of them is not unusual, of course, but it’s rarely a lasting relationship and is risky because, someday, you may want to work that room again but face the ever-present risk of the staff putting something in your drink while you’re on stage because you promised to call Shari the barmaid but never did.

For this reason and others, dating for comedians is a challenge. As I continue to discover, many of my single friends are no longer single-- and most of their friends are no longer single either. This tried-and-true "friend-of-a-friend" approach to dating, even for a demi-celebrity like me, is rapidly facing extinction.

I’ve tried it all. I tried "It’s Just Lunch"-- and they lie. It’s just $1,500.

Reasoning that online dating makes sense for someone on the road, I tried Match.com. It didn’t take long for me to conclude that the National Sex Offender Registry is both cheaper AND more effective.

I even tried eHarmony but realized I don’t want to have to go to church for a blind date. Religion isn’t a turn-off, mind you. Indeed, if I marry anyone it will either be a Mormon or a Christian Scientist. Two or three Mormon wives would be great if you’re into group sex but, by marrying a Christian Scientist, you’d save a fortune on health insurance.

So when my last remaining single friend encouraged me to try "speed dating" so he wouldn’t look like a loser by showing up to such a thing alone, I was more than a little reluctant.You see, I thought "speed dating" referred to making out with meth addicts. Not so, as it turns out.

"Speed dating" instead refers to a bunch of single people with no other options who get together in a nice restaurant or bar and, together, try to deny the shambles that is their love life. Men and women are paired off, and then each member of the party gets a couple of minutes to introduce themselves to the other and to have mild chit-chat. After the time is up, a bell rings or something and new pairings are made. This way, everyone gets introduced, and potential dates are lined up. It’s romance the way God intended it-- if God had ADHD, or was Jeff Bezos from Amazon.com. Or both.

Still reluctant, I agreed to go along and check it out-- and here’s why: Dane Cook made a fortune in CD sales, packs rooms everywhere he goes and even got a hosting gig on Saturday Night Live last year by thinking outside the box. Through an inventive combination of outreach to his fans through Myspace and other modern innovations, Cook was able to grow his base exponentially.

While I am not as technically capable as he is-- or, for that matter, as you are-- I reasoned that I can exploit "speed dating" as a vehicle to grow my comedic fan base. I’d be growing it one person at a time so it might take a little longer, sure, but-- unlike blogging my way to fame and fortune as Cook did-- "speed dating" can be used to try out new material. In this way, it isn’t just 15 four-minute dates in an hour-- it is 15 new open mics. I can easily get 16 jokes out in four minutes, meaning that-- by testing each joke twice-- I can refine 120 jokes in an hour. For any novice struggling with the math, that’s easily a half-hour set.

At the very least, the short timeframe of each potential one-person audience will help me sharpen my early morning radio skills. Comedians are often asked to get up at 5 a.m. to make promotional appearances on the local Morning Zoo-style radio programs, and it is often hard to be funny that early. It’s also hard to describe oneself to the Zoo Crew of Anytown, USA, in only a few minutes-- but that’s exactly what must be done. Speed dating is like boot camp for promotional appearances, making it even more worthwhile for comedians.

By the way, since I presume some my material will shock, disappoint or offend half the girls I’ll be "speed dating," it will ease the speed breaking-up process-- making it perfect for a guy like me who doesn’t want a long-term relationship. Four minutes is just about right. As an added bonus, the mumbling and griping about that horrible man at Table #2-- namely, yours truly-- will keep my name out there, will serve to increase my comedic allure and cement my reputation as an "edgy" comedian. After all, those easily offended ladies probably have friends, and they have friends. And so on. And so on.

To sum up, speed dating is built for comedians. It’s like Amway-- only funnier.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about four minutes away from being famous and celebrity can make solitude a whole lot more bearable.