I didn’t earn my spot that night because I was good. I got it because I was new. That’s how first-timers get in the door. I’d been sitting in the back of open mics for months, watching, thinking I was learning. But watching people swim doesn’t make you a swimmer. When the mic hit my hand, I found out real quick—this is different. I had a joke about my wife being mad I broke up with my girlfriend over text. Not because I did it over text… but because she couldn’t read our texts anymore. It was supposed to be a misdirect. On stage, it felt more like a misfire. I learned something important: if I’m still too close to the wound, I can’t make it funny yet. I had jokes about my marriage ending. But the crowd can smell it when you’re bleeding. You can’t fake healed. That night was a dream state—intense, blurry, like I was watching myself from outside my own body. I didn’t see the light. I don’t know how long I was up there. All I know is that I made it through. It wasn’t love at first sight with stand-up. But it was a first date. And it left me curious enough to come back.
