I like funny guys. Silly funny, irreverent funny, sarcastic funny, dry funny—whatever. If you can get me to laugh, you might have a good shot.
However. Jokes can be tricky.
Funny: Starting up a game of truth or dare on the first date, especially if you take my dare to borrow a cowboy hat from a dude at the end of the bar and wear said hat wile you dance a jaunty jig for me.
Less funny: You take a truth, and when I ask where you want to be in five years, you answer “I think we’ll be married, and at least have two kids. Three maybe?”
Funny: You meet my dog, who’s usually an asshole, and she’s nice to you. When I tell you I’m surprised, you shrug and say, “Kids, dogs and gay guys all love me. I don’t know what it is.”
Less funny: You tell me, while lingering at my doorway at the end of the evening, that I “feel like home.”
Funny: You text me the next morning to ask how I’m feeling, and I admit I must have hit the gin a little too hard, because I have a wee headache. You respond, “Oh, sorry, I guess I got a little aggressive with the roofies.”
Not funny: When we have coffee later, and I tell you that I really, really, don’t think we should date, at least not until your divorce is final, or, at least until you and your wife are no longer living together, you tell me multiple times that I’m “breaking your heart.” Um, we met yesterday.
Waaay not funny: At the same coffee/letdown date, you start to tell a story, then pause and say, “No, that’s a really good story. I only tell that one in exchange for sexual favors.” I respond, “Well, I guess I won’t be hearing it then.” You respond, “Really? No? Shit. There goes my plan for getting you pregnant right away.”