Thanks, But No Laughs
One Woman, One Pushy Friend, and a Comedy Club Cupid Gone Wrong
“What’s your name, my man?” Comedian Jackson Johnson asked Adonis, standing beside him on stage, sticking the microphone in his face.
“Adonis.”
“Oh, shit. Powerful! Powerful name, my guy.” Jackson says, taking the microphone.
Adonis doesn’t know if his mind is playing tricks on him, but he hears crickets. Adonis. The moment people heard it, they pictured someone towering at six-foot-four, with the body of a Greek god. But at five-seven with a slim, slightly softened frame, he knows that reality didn’t always live up to the hype.
“Now tell me, what do you like about Kaitlyn? What caught your eye?” Jackson asks again, sticking the microphone in Adonis’s face.
Before answering, Adonis takes a glance at the crowd. There must be around five hundred faces staring at him from the dimly lit audience of this comedy club while he’s up there on stage under a damn spotlight like he’s the one performing.
Damn Devin for telling Jackson I was into Kaitlyn.
The comedy club is your typical local spot—small and cozy, with a bar tucked in the left corner, just a few feet from the entrance. The stage is nothing grand; it is barely raised, more like the difference between a sidewalk and the street.
“I mean, she’s pretty. I like her style and hair, and now, standing closer to her, I like her eyes,” Adonis answers.
There are awws and claps in the crowd.
It’s true—she’s gorgeous. She is more than just pretty; she’s downright beautiful. She’s got that Rachel McAdams vibe from Wedding Crashers with shoulder-length chestnut hair and eyes as green as sunlit jade, vibrant and captivating. And Adonis wasn’t exaggerating about her outfit either. He likes how she looks in those black jeans and short black boots, with a soft, powder blue shirt peeking out from under her black jacket on this crisp October night.
“Oh shit. Good answer, Adonis,” Jackson says, ginning and glancing at Kaitlyn. “What do you do for work, Adonis?”
“I’m a nurse.”
“Ohhhh. A first responder,” Jackson says with emphasis, enticing not just the crowd to like Adonis but Kaitlyn as well. “I like this guy.”
Adonis glances at Devin, sitting in the front row beside his empty chair. This all started when Kaitlyn came on stage, and Jackson began his rapid-fire questions to the crowd. How old was she? Twenty-seven. Was she single? She was. What did she do for a living? A veterinarian. How long had she been single? Three years. And what does she look for in a guy? Caring, family-oriented, honest, funny, and loyal. That’s when Devin yelled out that Adonis was interested.
Next thing Adonis knew, with the crowd and Jackson egging him on, he ended up on stage—caught in the spotlight, with a comedian playing Cupid.
“Okay, Adonis, final questions. Are you a family-oriented, loyal guy? And where would you take Kaitlyn here on a nice first date?” Jackson sticks the microphone back in Adonis’s face, and he hears the crowd murmur in anticipation.
“I am family-oriented. I come from a big family.”
This is all true. Adonis has two older brothers—Isaiah, the oldest at thirty-nine, and Jovanni, thirty-seven. Then there are his two older sisters, Brenda, thirty-five, and Jasmine, thirty-two. On top of that, he’s got cousins who are brothers to him—Emmanuel, forty; Harlem, thirty-eight; Joel, thirty-seven; and Aldo, thirty-four. And then there’s him, the baby of the group at twenty-eight.
They all lived in the same house growing up—not exactly together, but close enough. Adonis’s parents, he and his brother, lived on the first floor. Joel and Aldo lived upstairs on the second floor with their mother, while Emmanuel and Harlem lived on the third floor with their parents.
So, you can probably imagine how Adonis grew up. He’s right on the borderline of Gen Z and Millennials, but feels more like a full-blown Millennial. With his older siblings and cousins calling the shots, they decided what shows they watched, what music blasted through the house, and what was cool or lame. Some people say that’s why Adonis has an "old soul."
Maybe that’s why he’s always struggled to connect with girls and women his age—feeling out of sync with what they’re into. Or perhaps it could be how he’d always let his self-consciousness get to him. Adonis is your average good-looking guy in a modest, not obvious way. He is slim-built and has brown Caribbean skin, dark eyes, and dimples that appear when he smiles.
“Um, I’d take her out for a nice dinner,” Adonis says. “Some place like Blue On The Water,” I add.
He hears some oohs from the crowd, showing their approval of the fancy seafood restaurant he mentioned. It’s located in the picturesque waterfront district of historic East Greenwich, Rhode Island, where the lights from the harbor glisten on the water, giving the whole area a romantic, upscale vibe.
“Oh shit,” Jackson playfully says, again turning his attention to Kaitlyn. “So, Kaitlyn. Are you interested in going out on a date with my man Adonis, the family-oriented nurse?”
Jackson gently holds the microphone up to Kaitlyn’s face. She smiles at Adonis, and he instantly feels the warmth behind it. His heart races as Kaitlyn opens her mouth to speak, her eyes locking with Adonis’s for a moment, sending a jolt of nerves through him.
“You seem like a nice guy and all,” She starts. Her voice is soft but oddly flat. “But I prefer six feet or taller.”
Shit.
And just like that, the jolt is gone. Adonis holds his smile, but he can feel it cracking as he hears the oohs from the crowd.
Jackson pulls back the microphone and says, “Oh shit, bro.” Kaitlyn mouths I’m sorry to Adonis.
“Fuck that shit, Adonis. You’re a short king, bro,” Jackson says, raising his tone into the microphone, pacing back and forth on stage. “Hey, if any female is interested in my boy Adonis, come on stage.”
Adonis wants to be done with this, but feels he can’t back down and look like a coward. Like Aldo always says, "Man up." So, Adonis stands there, trying to keep it together, hoping this doesn’t worsen. But, as luck would have it, the awkward silence he thought he heard when he first introduced himself wasn’t just in his head—it was real. The crowd is dead quiet. No one speaks up or shows interest, and the crickets he imagined are practically out there chirping for real.
“No one?” Jackson asks in disbelief, but maybe he’s just giving Adonis some sympathy.
“All right, Adonis. Sorry, my man. Thanks for being a good sport,” Jackson says, extending his hand. Adonis shakes it, trying to smile through the awkwardness as he walks off stage and sits next to his best friend, Devin—the guy women always seem to gravitate toward. He’s around five-nine, five-ten, give or take, with about two hundred pounds of lean muscle, built like a chiseled pro football player. He’s handsome with dimples, and he’s got that classic Dominican brown skin tone, a perfectly shaped and lined-up beard, and a sharp, temper–faded haircut that looks like it was done just this morning.
“My bad, bro,” he says to Adonis, eyes looking straight ahead.
Once again, Adonis feels his height and size have let him down. I’m five-foot-seven in Timberland boots, but really, I’m five-foot-six. On top of that, I’m a slim guy. I’m not skinny, but I’m definitely on the leaner side. Nursing school kept me away from the gym, and playing basketball all the time hasn’t exactly helped me bulk up. I know guys my height who seem taller just because they lift weights—or maybe it’s the confidence they radiate from looking and feeling great.
Adonis has been single for a while now. Ironically, it’s been three years—ever since he found random guys’ dick pics on his ex-girlfriend’s phone. He’s had occasional hookups and a brief fling with a co-worker, but nothing serious. Whenever he meets someone who catches his eye, he gets shot down because of his size. So, he feels.
Tonight was the last straw. He’s never been more humiliated in his life.
With his eyes glued to the stage, he tells Devin, “I’m signing up for your gym tomorrow. Can you help me bulk up?”
“I got you, bro.”
