Very Funny

Beardieboy and I went out with our friends last Christmas and in the middle of drinking far too much pear cider than is good for either of us he declares to all that will listen that he is going to become a stand up comic. Everyone who does know him of course just grinned like pissed Cheshire cats because they know that whatever he wants to do he will do. He says that no one but me finds it hard to get along with him. I point out that it is very humorous to watch a friend jerking from one bizarre random thing to another and that it’s not quite so fun when you’re the one being dragged along by the jerking nerd beside you. And, in those circumstances, one might occasionally become a tad pissed off at being sidelined yet again for yet another crazy scheme. Now, don’t get me wrong, I find him exciting, interesting, and crazy but he’s equally an utter pain in the arse.

So, anyway…stand up comedy….

Yes, that’s how he started his first stand up comedy gig,  less than nine months after declaring his intention.  To be fair to him, in that time we’ve also done a number of music gigs for our joint project ‘Less for Murder’. Cutely named to elicit a chuckle from all those men and women who have been married 10 years or more and who feel like punching their delightful partners in the sternum every time they grin fakely at them over the Frosties.  We’ve split ourselves into so many different parts that we can barely remember what it’s like to be whole.

We did stop doing creative stuff for a while; for 3 and a half years to be precise. It was truly fucking miserable. In that time I became a compulsive crafter. I knitted, rag rugged, sewed and painted anything that wasn’t bolted down (and some things that were). Still, I felt no relief. I watched Beardieboy barely pick up a guitar and become a shadow of his former self. He was cold, distant and bereft of the things that made him who he really was and who he is is this amazing complex creature full of mystery and excitement.

We moved to Birmingham and knew we had to make changes or lose ourselves, and probably each other. We began tentatively writing music together and discovered that we worked really well together, which is mad really because we argue like absolute bitches.  Music will out, and so, it seems, will comedy.

So, anyway…stand up comedy…

He wrote his routine and practiced performing it like a man who actually wanted to be good at it. No bad thing really, because in the time between writing it and performing it, we’ve had the opportunity to see some utterly miserable stand up with notes written on hands and ill-considered topics. Anyway he practiced like he had OCD and when it came down to the moment of truth, he was very funny. Very bloody funny indeed. I cheered. I raved. But. But, inside I feel a little bit lost. What now? What if he becomes ‘a comedian’ can he be a comedian and be a musician? What happens to the music? What happens to me? Shouldn’t I be happy for him? Shouldn’t I cheer him on and put myself last? Can he be fulfilled and happy if he’s in a relationship with with someone who is not fulfilled or happy? Is it his responsibility to make me happy? It’s my responsibility to cheer him on, encourage him and fill his world with love.  Or at least I think it is. It’s my responsibility to show him I believe in him, to support and facilitate his creative outlet. Is it his responsibility to return the favour? We shall see. I’ve got a feeling my concerns will be put to the test. I have a funny feeling he’s going to be good at this comedy malarkey. Very bloody funny. Very bloody funny indeed.

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