My Seat At The Amy Schumer Table

I think I graduated to a seat at the Inside Amy Schumer’s Last F**kable Day wine party.

Have you seen it? Tina Fey and Patricia Arquette are gathered at a table in a lovely bucolic setting to memorialize Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ last f**kable day. Amy Schumer stumbles across the group and joins the ladies at the table. She proceeds to learn exactly what kind of day they are celebrating, how uniquely female the experience is, and why there is no stopping it.

Zingers From Amy Schumer’s Table:

“If you haven’t seen it and you aren’t too sensitive about potential vulgarities, do yourself a favor and watch it.”

The skit is chock-filled with memorably over-the-top lines. “The media decides when you finally reach the point where you are not believably f**kable anymore,” says Tina, explaining to the younger Amy Schumer.

They go on to congratulate Jennifer Lopez for landing the role of Mrs. Claus in an upcoming film. Tina, Patricia and Julia share some of the tell-tale signs that they’ve reached that status: “You go to a set and the only thing they have for your wardrobe are long sweaters.” “If you shoot a sex scene the night before your birthday everyone is ‘Hurry up, hurry up we gotta get it before midnight’ because they think your vagina is going to turn into a hermit crab.” And it goes on and on. If you haven’t seen it and you aren’t too sensitive about potential vulgarities, do yourself a favor and watch it.

Tina, Patricia, and Julie share some of the tell tale signs that we’ve reached that status. “You go to a set and the only thing they have for your wardrobe are long sweaters.” “ If you shoot a sex scene the night before your birthday everyone is ‘Hurry up, hurry up we gotta get it before midnight’ because they think your vagina is going to turn into a hermit crab.” The skit is replete with one-liners. And it goes on and on. If you haven’t seen it and you aren’t too sensitive about potential vulgarities, do yourself a favor and watch it.

Still Perplexed At Times:

So while no media was involved in my seat assignment at Schumer’s table, the chair earmarked with my name can no longer be overlooked. But still, at times I am  confused by some of the signs in life. Just last month, while traveling extensively in southeast Asia with a group of digital nomads, I experienced a situation which perplexed me — albeit for just a few minutes..

The Remote Year group I belonged to during my stay in Hanoi communicated extensively through an ongoing WhatsApp text thread.It was through this vehicle that announcements were proclaimed, invitations made, and questions asked. It was also the means by which we communicated well-wishes for birthdays, provided sympathy for illness, and the like. . 

 

In one of these such threads I shared some information about a great local tailor I found and was working with. To showcase her talents, I posted a photo of myself in an Ao Dai — the traditional dress/pants combination worn by many Vietnamese women. As expected, an appropriate number of heart or thumbs-up emojis appeared at the bottom right hand corner of the posted image. There were even a few complimentary comments thrown in. Unexpected, but always nice to hear.

See My Confusion?

“For the majority of my life, those types of texts or communications activated my “Are they flirting with me/are they interested?” sensor.”

A week or so later, after much talk and sharing about my ongoing tailor addiction, the group was gathering for one of our final times together. Since many of us had purchased hand-made items from Daisy the tailor, we decided it would be fun to dress up for the occasion, while knowing full well we would need to improvise undergarments, shoes, and accessories. No one was traveling with a full wardrobe. In a tongue-in-cheek kinda way, I threw into the group chat my legit concern over what, of the many new pieces, I would wear. The group  was already in the know about my abundant procurement of tailor-made clothes, so I was fairly certain they’d get the joke.

What came back as a comment in the thread was, “You probably got enough for every night of the week and you’re gonna look gorgeous in every one of them, Jack” The individual writing was a lovely man with whom I had a friendly rapport. If I had to guess, I’d say he is in his mid-thirties. But in full transparency, it’s difficult for me to register someone’s age if they’re below 40-something. Everyone looks so young to me. I responded with a bit of self-deprecating humor: “Flattery will get you anywhere and everywhere.” His final retort to the thread was, “It’s not flattery if it’s just plain straight facts.”

OK, do you see the potential for confusion? For the majority of my life, those types of texts or communications activated my “Are they flirting with me/are they interested?” sensor. I mean, anyone can hear the flirtation in those texts, right?

My Seat At Amy Schumer’s Table Becomes Available:

Hubristically, believing at first blush it was flirting, I chose not to continue participating in the thread. After all, I am in a monogamous relationship. I can’t date anyone else. I shouldn’t lead anyone on. Oh, boy, imagine the puncture to my inflated ego when a very close friend called me out on the potential real intention behind those compliments. Adding a huge dollop of “get real, Jack” to the conversation, she posed another scenario. 

And as she was laying out her version of his objectives to me over the phone, this bastardized Anne Lamott quote I found years ago jumped into my head: “Flirt with very old people – spread kindness.” And in a flash, the intentions of this much-younger man became crystal clear, and I plainly saw my place-setting at Amy’s table, seated right next to Tina, Patricia, and Julia.

At least I’m in good company.

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