Lucked Out

You Make Me Want To Be A Better Man

Our 35th wedding anniversary was yesterday. The list of things I’ve been willing to do for 35 years, besides, eat, drink, and go to the bathroom, is short. There are things I can’t stand for 35 seconds: a dentist’s drill, body odor on a hot day in a crowded elevator, Tucker Carlson…in ascending order. In fact, I’d rather stick my nose in someone’s sweaty armpit than withstand ten seconds of that sycophantic, fascist stool sample...but I digress.

Cara and I met backstage at Cobb’s Comedy Club on Chestnut St. on showcase night. She was accompanying her friend who was performing. I immediately noticed her. She was young and very cute. I assumed I had no shot and resigned to a life of celibacy and have since devoted myself to the Lord…oh, wait a minute. Where did that come from? I stopped going to mass after high school.

We met again on Halloween. Her comedian friend invited me to a non-costume party. However, she failed to mention the “non-costume” part. My friend, Clark and I showed up as Ratso Rizzo and Joe Buck from Midnight Cowboy. I was Ratso, appropriately unshaven with a cigarette butt hanging from the side of my mouth adorned in dirty Goodwill rejects. As we entered, I spied Cara in a black tank top with matching harem pants. We locked eyes and she asked me to dance. Me, a filthy bum and the hot Asian chick. Anyone on the street would have thought I was holding her hostage.

The next song was slow. I held her reasonably close until it became too embarrassing to do so. I remember thinking, “I should have worn a cup”. We spent the night conversing and saluting folks we knew but never leaving each other’s side. We exchanged phone numbers. I added that my comedy partner and I were visiting LA the next week to do the ill-fated “Thicke of the Night” with Alan Thicke and that I’d call once I returned.

Upon returning I asked her to dinner. At the end of the evening, I kissed her and made sure to go no further. I was being careful. I felt I was out of my league but got the feeling that she didn’t know that. Huge stroke of luck! I didn’t want her to think I was just in it for a good time.

I had just finished a summer romance with a girl who had come out from the Midwest for an internship. She wasn’t sure if she was returning. By Christmas, I needed an answer as I was becoming dedicated to my new relationship. I called Illinois and we mutually decided it best to end things.

Three years later, Cara and I were living together. I was 34 years old, having started stand-up at the ripe old age of 29, and decided to move to LA before I withered on the vine. Cara got her own place in the Sunset while I toiled away in Tinsel Town. As the weeks went by, she’d come to visit, or I’d come up to SF.

We missed each other too much. This was 1986, before TSA. You could roam anywhere in the airport. Many a tear was shed at the gate. Finally, I asked to her move down with me. She may have been the inspiration for Beyonce having said “not until you put a ring on it.” My fear of abandonment trumped my fear of commitment, and in a Napa hotel room, I asked her to marry me.  

Every marriage has ups and downs, but I never entertained the thought of leaving. She knows me. She knows me better than anyone. I’ve told her my secrets. I’ve admitted my faults. We’ve compromised. She’s admonished me while I have meekly cowered at the kitchen table. I’ve made my point and she’s come to understand, if not agree, with my thinking. She’s stopped me from making dumb decisions. She’s made me calm down and she’s riled me up. She’s given me an objective perspective and helpful advice.

We raised a child, maybe the longest team building exercise one can endure. We got to know and love each other’s parents. We gained friends in each other’s siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, and nieces.

It’s impossible to imagine my life these last 35 years without her. I often take her for granted. I must stop myself when I think that way. I am thankful that every day I can wake up look over and say, “Yeah, this’ll work.” That may not sound very romantic, but it is essential. Being together helps define who I am. I have no clue as to who I’d be without her. What I can say to her is what Jack Nicholson said over dinner to Helen Hunt in As Good As It Gets: “You make me wanna be a better man.”