Funny Feelings (41)

At the game, Shauna sits to my right and Meyer to my left, with Kara on the other side of him. He’s brought me a spare jersey he had, a forty-niners one I’m informed. The whole thing is surprisingly fun, easy to follow, easy to get into quickly. Before I know it I am screaming alongside everyone else. I find a few key phrases that seem to apply for multiple scenarios. “Come on!” being the most universal.

I’d felt that standard feeling at first— that “on” feeling with Kara and Shauna. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel the need to impress them, even if I do already have the gig.

It’s actually pretty common to meet comedians and find that they’re not all that funny in mundane life. It’s like they hoard up that energy, any quips or banter to use onstage. Plenty of them are still masters at their craft, though, so I try not to pass judgment when I come across these individuals. After all, you wouldn’t judge an author based on their text messages or Instagram posts, or expect an actor to slip into a new identity without a camera or an audience.

But Kara and Shauna are naturally hilarious, easy to get along with and irreverent. What many would consider oversharing is what disarms me with them the most.

Shauna tells us about hooking up with Tyson on their first date, while Kara jokes about thinking she was headed for a life of leisure with her husband—a graduate of MIT—but instead she’s managed to become the primary breadwinner by talking about bodily fluids ad nauseam. It’s obvious that they’re both deeply in love, though—at least to me—based on the number of jokes they make at their own expense alone.

When they pick up on Meyer’s blushing at certain comments, they dig in ruthlessly. It’s a bit that they fall into, but they stick to it flawlessly when they see it working on him.

“I honestly thought I’d miss getting to be a hoe. But then Tyson had to go and give me multiple that first time we hooked up, and now my standards are awfully skewed. I’m not willing to play the market after that, you know?” Shauna says.

“Praise be. My only complaint is that now that I make all the money, I don’t think he spanks me as hard as he used to, and he doesn’t want to try anything with any kind of risk factor.” Kara replies with a mournful sigh, and Meyer chokes on a pretzel as I start howling. I smack his back as his eyes water and he continues to cough violently. “He definitely won’t even attempt to choke me,” she pouts.

The public affection is easy in this setting, surprisingly. There’s no stream of self-conscious babble in my mind anytime my hands land on him.

I think it’s because expectations aren’t overly high. Even if I was trying, it’s not like I’d be able to differentiate who might be taking pictures of us versus the game, since so many cameras and phones hover in every direction. I find myself easily patting a muscular thigh, leaning into a hard shoulder as I close my eyes in a laugh. We stand up to cheer for a touchdown and my hip bumps into the front of his after I jump up and down. He’s continually placing easy kisses to my hairline, or wrapping me against his front with his forearm across my collarbone—just like that first date in front of the food truck. My palms hold it there every time. Sometimes his chin rests on top of my head and I imagine I’m buoyant, that I’d float away without the weight of him securing me.

But then it’s over, and I couldn’t tell you what team won because all I know is that despite feeling like I’m on the verge of disaster in my work life, I feel like the most victorious woman alive.

I let myself hook a finger through Meyer’s belt loop on our way out, wrap my other hand around his arm as we walk.

Shauna, Kara, and I make plans to meet up and go out that night, before they go their separate ways. When they’re gone Meyer frowns down at me and asks, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? Marissa is there anyway tonight, and Haze will be asleep by the time I get home… and I could still be there in the morning.” He looks unsure even as he says it, but my mind swan dives into the gutter at the question, nonetheless. I’m thinking he means stay, stay. Like, with me. The night. “Uh…” I stammer.

“I mean to help, like, socially,” he clarifies, clearing his throat and folding his arms across his chest. “Go over the parts in your set you’re trying to work out and stuff, too, maybe.”

“Oh! Okay. Well, no, that’s okay. No social lubricant required here.” God, poor choice of words, Fee. Thank God you stopped before you said you were wet and ready or something equally terrifying. “I’ll be totally fine. And, we’ve got time to work on the material. It’ll be good for me to do a girls night,” I shrug. Marissa and Meyer might be my only close friends, but I already feel a kinship with Kara and Shauna, so I don’t feel anxious about that, exactly.

He smiles lopsidedly and nods before he looks down at his phone. “Alright. Uber’s two minutes away.”

“Oh okay—you don’t have to go get your bag from the concierge?”

“I do, but I just added a stop. I, uh, figured we’d just share it back to your hotel and then I’ll take off from there.”

I already regret not taking him up on staying, but don’t see a smooth way to rewind. “Oh! Okay, well… Do you have time to get some food before you gotta hit the airport? I actually kind of do think that maybe we should start going over some material.” That was lame.