Monday, October 24, 2005

The Rating Game

A young comedian friend of mine who has achieved some level of fame has been lamenting lately about how hard it is to find the “right” woman.

“Tony I’m spending the next year on a quest to find the right girl to settle down with.”

“A quest? Like a Holy Grail kind of thing? Maybe we could get a bunch of us to dress up as knights and go to Pure Platinum and…”

“I’m serious. If women think you’re famous it’s hard to find one who isn’t just after your money.”

“Uh... I’m actually okay with that.”


“A century? You think I’ve been married a century? My life is done? Are you trying to set me up for a “It just "seems" like a hundred years” joke?”

“You know what I mean. You’re old. You’ve already found the right woman. You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“I’m old? I don’t know what it’s like out there?”

“Seriously, I’m trying to find like a 9.5 or a 9.6, and it’s hard.”

“You rate women on a scale that’s broken down into tenths? What the hell is the difference between a 9.5 and a 9.6?”

“A 9.5 is a 9.6 that doesn’t like camping?”

“Have you ever even been camping?”

“That’s not the point. If I ever wanted to go camping and I’m dating this hot chick and she didn’t want to go camping then that would knock her down a tenth.”

“You’ve been on the road way too long.”

“Well then how do you rate women?”

“I don’t remember. I’m too old. I’ve been married for a century.”

“So if you were single and younger how would you rate women?”

“You didn’t get the sarcasm in my last remark?”

“I got it. So answer the question.”

“Well the first thing that I find attractive about a woman is her mind.”

“You’re not going to help me are you?”

“I am helping, I’m forty eight, the first thing I would need to find out is if she’d “mind” going out with me.”

“Not funny.”

“I know, but it was worth a shot.”

“How would you rate your wife?”

“She’s a 10.”

“You’re wife is a 10?”

“Yep, she’s a perfect 10.”

“What makes you think your wife’s a perfect 10?”

“She reads my blog.”


"Never mind, you'll find out later."

“Actually she’s a 9.5 that thinks camping is staying at the Bellagio with my sorry ass. That makes her a perfect 10. Any woman that would put up with me for over thirty years is a perfect 10. Hell she’s an 11.”

“You are no help.”

“Look, first of all I’m not stupid enough to publicly announce I’m spending the next year looking for the ideal mate. Secondly SHUT THE HELL UP about your “rating” system. All you need is for the woman of your dreams to find out she was a 9.3.”

“I wouldn’t marry a 9.3”


“A 9.3 is a 9.4 that complains about my snoring.”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that women are rating you?”

“Um… no…not really.”

“And using your rating system how would you rate yourself?”

“I’m a perfect 10.”

“A short Vietnamese comic is a perfect 10?”

“It’s my system.”

“Here’s a little advice. I don’t care if she’s a 1.1 with a glass eye and a clubfoot or a 9.9 Playboy Playmate of the Year. If you fall in love you fall in love. You can’t use a system to find the girl of your dreams. There’s no system to love. Love makes you stupid. Love makes you dream. Love makes you rich and poor at the same time. Love makes you wake up feeling alive and in an instant kicks you in the nuts. You can’t plan it, buy it or build it. It just is. So stop trying so damn hard and just let it happen.”

“Dude, I would never go out with a girl that had a club foot.”

“Not even if she liked camping?”