Denial is not a river in Egypt

Yesterday, I met up with a friend atthe mall to eat and run errands.

We've been friends for eight years and for the past two years, actually meet up quite often. So in a way, I know how he developed from a young man and into this...person.

He's known for having a unique sense of humor. So unique, in fact, that nobody gets it. But it's okay. He's proud of his sense of humor, he likes it, nothing wrong with that.

...Except that now he thinks he's funny.

Now Funny is a serious word with me. Making people laugh is probably one of the best perks in the world. It gives you this natural high similar to when you donate your liver or something equivalent to charity. It makes you fucking happy.

But the thing is...not everyone is funny. Everyone can tell a joke, but not everyone can deliver it right.

My friend not only delivers it wrong, but he stays and expects a tip.

Not everyone is a comedian. When I was debating, my favorite round was the humor round, simply becayse 9/10, I could make people laugh. I've never lost in a humor round, and I am proud to say that I'm pretty funny.

But I wasn't the funniest person in the team--far from it. There are a handful of people who can reduce you to stitches. And the College of Science Debating Team is--hands down--the funniest team in our batch. Even the blandest of team members can crack a sex joke that will make you fart (though I think the humor lies in him atually saying it) but I must say that we have four or five of the funniest people ever in my team.

The humor ranges from dry wit to slapstick, to just that unique brand of hilarity that my friend and teammate Glen brings. I won't even try to name it.

Being exposed to this, my standards of being funny are really high, and my friend...doesn't even make it up the first step of the ladder.

Usually, I can try and extend myself to actually understand his jokes so that it seems "funny". But my patience with his humor has been running low as of late, and yesterday was an absolute disaster.

After yesterday, I'm beginning to wonder whether it was wise to have "tried" to understand his joke and given him a false sense of funnies.

He was trying to tell some girl this joke that he told me which I thought was somewhat funny, and she just...didn't get it. He's tried telling other people too and they...never got it.

I told him that the joke was a hard sell, that not a lot of people would have found it funny because it was unusual.

It doesn't help that he doesn't have good timing either. He'll make a really caustic remark in the middle of a serious situation, probably to try and diffuse it, that cause a lot of the people to just go "That really wasn't funny. What the fuck are you trying to do." He not only tells the wrong jokes at the worse possible times, but he is often late in telling it.

So yesterday, when we were on the phone making arrangements to go to the mall and he was telling me the situation with "the girl", I told him point blank "Dude, you aren't funny."

That's Grade-A Kriszia Bluntness for you. When I'm pissed, the only tact that remains is that shred that will keep you from killing me.

I think he was stunned, but he recovered fairly quickly. I've tried to tell him before that he over-extends himself so much that it frightens people, but he won't believe me. Yet he still fucking wonders why other people are...wary of him.

I told him that not everyone was a comedian, that at least he tries to be funny, and that was nice of him to want to make people laugh.

Things got worse--of course--at the mall.

My crab sandwhich was late in coming, and I was already irritated with the bad service at the cafe we were in. He made this joke about the people still going out to kill man that they were going to put in my sandwhich, followed by a maniacal laugh. A freaky maniacal laugh.

The guy has his own laughtrack and he can't even get that right.

The conversation was pretty much that way throughout the meal. Halfway through, we were making some direct jabs at each other.

He told me that he wanted to do macrame again, and I told him that I didn't like the hobby when they made us do a pot holder in gradeschool. He told me that I just got the knots wrong, I told him I just didn't like it. He suggested making a tapestry, when I told him that it wasn't really my style. I couldn't see myself buying a macrame tapestry, much less take the time to do one myself. He said that I didn't have to use it, I could just give it away, which was--he stressed--the point of making things. The joy of giving it away. I just blurted "And who would want such junk?"

Really bad of me, I know, but he came equally hard by saying "And you can never finish anything anyway."

Oh, but it hurts!

So it's amazing that we still spent an extra hour and half together, with me mostly eating.

Luis--who's met him and doesn't particularly like him--claims he's autistic and suggests an intervention. Since he doesn't believe me, maybe he'll believe it if I gathered a group of his friends to tell him "Dude, you care so much that it's scary. It's no joke. YOU are scary. And we don't mean it in a funny way, we mean in a Charles Manson kind of way. But we still love you for trying and we just want to help!"

But none of his friends are willing to try...or are just too scared to try.