(Excerpt from God is a Woman: Dating Disasters) Introduction

God is a Woman

God is a woman.

No discussion, no debate, no denial. She’s a woman. That people challenge this notion is ridiculous. The proof is all around. If God were a man, He’d be the only one. There would not be another man anywhere. The entire planet would be full of no one but beautiful women. Blondes, brunettes, green eyes, brown eyes, big breasts, medium breasts (no small breasts), full rotund butts, and small tight asses; whatever was needed to fulfill His passing fancy. And none of them would have names; that way He wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting them. If God were a man, there would be no STD’s and women wouldn’t get pregnant.

The only time there’d be another man is on the rare occasion when God created one, so that He could hike the guy up to the top of a mountain to brag. God would point at all the beautiful women and tell him, “See all them? I sleep with them all, whenever I want.”

“Bullshit! You do not.”

“The blonde over there rode me all night long. The redhead there woke me up with a hummer while the blonde was still sleeping beside me. And you know what? I never have to wear a condom . . . close your mouth.”

Then God would kill the guy, hike down the mountain, and bang a brunette. Yup, God is a woman, no doubt about it.

Many women would be thrilled to hear a guy concede that God is female. Why, I have no idea. Think of all the crap women go through: age lines, split ends, bleeding, swollen feet, cramps . . . Why would a female God put women through all this? Because She is female.

For all their complaining about how badly they are treated by men, no one treats women worse than other women. They borrow and ruin each other’s clothes, then rationalize it. They steal each other’s boyfriends. If they’re not dating anyone, they’ll give their best friend bad relationship advice simply to keep her single, too. Women are catty and God is no exception.

Consider four guys grabbing grub at a steakhouse. The bill arrives. One guy picks it up. He looks at it and thinks Fuck . . . math. One of two things happens: He says, “Split it four ways?”

“Sure.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

They add in the tip, round it up to the next number divisible by four and they’re done. Or, the guy who picked up the bill says, “I’ll get this one, you guys get the next one?”

The guys agree, knowing that it will all even out at some point.

Four women paying a bill should be an Olympic event. When the bill arrives, one of them pushes it into the middle of the table. All four hover over it like angels hovering over Baby Jesus. They think things like All right, Tracy had three bites of my salad. There’s like twenty-four bites in the salad total. It’s $8.00 for a salad. Tracy owes me one dollar, I’ll deduct that from my bill. Last week I took a cab with Jen and it was $7.00. I paid four, she paid three. She owes me fifty cents, I’m deducting that. In an instant all four whip out their cells and busily type away (it’s the only time a cell’s calculator feature is used). They throw their money into a heap, one counts it up, and then informs the others, “We’re short.”

They each throw a little more in, and she retorts, “We’re still short.”

They go through this several times, baffled at how they could be short, until one finally puts in significantly more money than the others. Her friends bat their innocent eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, that’s too much. You shouldn’t have to put in that much.”

She pretends she doesn’t care, even though inside she is seething. “Oh, it’s okay; don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

If She were God, She’d be thinking Fine, I’ll pay more. Just wait until you all wake up tomorrow morning with feet that are three shoe-sizes bigger than they are now. And that’s why women have so many issues. Because God is a woman.

Now, as much as God enjoys punishing Her daughters, She takes far greater pleasure in using them to frustrate her sons . . . especially me. In ten years on the road as a comedian and six as a resident of Chicago’s Lincoln Park neighborhood—teeming with pretty women—She’s had ample opportunities to do so, which she’s used to craft some of Her best work. Here, then, are stories of women frustrating me with near successes in dating or sleeping with them.

Hold the phone; why would I want to embarrass myself with stories of near successes with women? Why not share the successful stories? Sure, I could do that. I could recall the time I worked with Brian Regan in Atlanta. After the show, I met a pair of hot twenty-two-year-old identical twins, Southern Belles complete with accents and flowing, long blonde hair. They wore the same yellow summer dresses, which clung to their perfectly formed bodies, and smiled at me with their matching blue eyes. We wound up back at their place, me sandwiched between the two of them in the shower. Sure, I could tell that story.

The problem is, except for making me look like a god to men and an ass to women, the story serves no purpose. I didn’t learn anything from the experience. I had an incredible time that has left me with a wonderful memory, but I didn’t learn anything. My near successes taught me much more than any successes ever taught me. Plus, sadly, there are more of them and they’re much funnier stories.

After each storytelling, I cover what I learned then give an example of how I put my newfound knowledge to work on a future date. I’ve also inserted “quickies”—little pieces of advice for men or women—between chapters. It is my hope that both men and women will find my stories entertaining and insightful. That you will be able to find more enjoyment in each other’s company, whether it be for a long-term relationship or a quick roll in the hay. Life is too short for anything else. Enjoy!

The Women's Names

I have changed the names of the women in these stories to protect their identities, which was easy to do, since I don’t remember most of the names to begin with. Of course, knowing my luck, it’s possible that I may have inadvertently chosen the actual name of one of these women. If so, it’s purely accidental. Please accept my apology in advance.

I suppose I could have avoided the possibility of choosing a correct name by selecting unattractive names for the women, like Elvira or Trudy; but those names sound ridiculous and no one would ever believe the women were attractive. Certain names always yield attractive women. Like Heather. Or Veronica. Other names, like Gwendomeire, never have attractive owners. That’s why, if I ever have the pleasure of being a father, my daughters will have names like Bertha and Gertrude . . . better yet, Bubba. Sure, they’ll be doomed to a life of celibacy, but hey, I’ll sleep much better. Just to be certain, they’ll also wear clothes made from potato sacks and get a bowl haircut every two weeks.

While I’m at it, note that while these entertaining stories provide good dating tips, success cannot be guaranteed. Also, I’m not a lawyer, so nothing here is legal advice. I’m also not a doctor. Actually, there are a lot of things I’m not—like a racecar driver or a senator—but those are the only two I have to point out in a disclaimer.

Too Much is No Good

I adore women. That’s different than adoring sex. All men who adore women adore sex; but, all men who adore sex do not adore women. Written as a Venn diagram, it would look like this:

Okay, that was completely unnecessary; but in college I took this logic class and all we did was draw these stupid Venn diagrams. I’ve never used one in real life and have been determined to do so, just to keep the class from being a complete waste. Mission accomplished.

Some men who adore sex actually detest women. It’s almost like the sex is a conquest instead of a shared moment. They take pride in “tricking” women into bed. I’ve worked with lots of comedians that fit this mold. (Often, a comedy club will rent a condo for the comedians to stay in while they play the club for the week. We learn a lot about each other while roomies.)

One particular comedian who adored sex but not women stuck in my mind. There was one day in which he had sex with three different women at different times of the day, one of whom was married. And he was still on the prowl!

I learned that sex can become a drug for a lot of these guys. They had to have more and more sex to get that exciting, fulfilling feeling. I decided early on not to become one of these guys. I never wanted sex to be like eating a donut or sipping a beer. So I guess my first lesson about sex didn’t come from a woman; it came from horny comedians. Too much empty sex—sex for the sake of simply having sex—leads to nothing but empty sex; highly undesirable.