Saving Marriages Through Comic Relief

Photo: Pascal - pasukaru76/Flickr, no changes made

Dr. Craig Spencer, one of the Doctors Without Borders who traveled to Africa to help those with the Ebola virus, is an inspiration. It’s rare to find someone who cares about strangers living in another country. Actually, it’s hard to find people who care about people in another neighborhood. Or even in their own family. How many of us feel a responsibility to respond when we see someone getting hurt? We’re faced with the choice of taking action or turning away.

This issue came up for me as I was overhearing a conversation at the next table at a restaurant between a young attractive woman and a 40 year old man. I found myself listening intently when she asked her date, “Do you always F**k the hostess at the restaurants you go to?”

He reached across the table for her hand and said, “No. You’re special.” Pulling his hand away, he added, “But my wife… it just isn’t right.” I didn’t need psychic powers to understand what I was seeing. He’d brought his mistress to this seafood restaurant in Fisherman’s Village, intending to break off the affair. It’s not a destination restaurant; I was there only because it’s on the bike path, but off the beaten path. It was a smart choice for someone not wanting to be spotted by those who would recognize him.

She too was onto him, replying, “Oh… that’s all you care about… what others think. You’re worried about the people in that Pico-Robertson neighborhood of yours.” Pico-Robertson is home to many religious Jews. My grandmother used to live there. I pictured his wife with a babushka on her head, tending to her litter of children while her husband is f**king the shiksa hostess of a kosher restaurant. I was staring at the schmuck as he picked at his plate of fried fish, not all of whom were fish with scales. Boy, nothing he was doing was Kosher.

“Avram, do you know how much I want you right now? ” she asked, wetting her lips, taking his hand in hers, and stroking his palm with her index finger…

“Oh my god, you’re beautiful,” he said.

Oh no! He wasn’t going to go through with it. This man, I knew, was in need of help. I didn’t care about him, but I was thinking about the woman in the babushka, their litter of kids. I was considering what he should have been -- the possible consequences of his infidelity. He was risking damaging his family with a virus that causes pain and humiliation. He’d come here with honorable intentions, and he needed a push to pull out of this situation.

Trained in comedy improv, I knew what I had to do. On my way out of the restaurant I passed his table. I turned to him with tremendous enthusiasm and said, “Avram! What a surprise seeing you here!”

His face turned red. Pretending to know me, he responded with a cheery, “Hi.”

“You remember me, right? I see you and your wife while I walk my dog. You know… around Pico and Robertson.”

“Oh, yes! Of course. Hi!” he said, looking like someone going into cardiac arrest.

“So… I just wanted to say hi.” Staring at the hostess, I said, “Please give your wife my best. She’s SO terrific.”

My intention – and I’m sure I succeeded – was to serve as “marriage helper” by giving him the cure he needed. He’d flushed like someone with a life-threatening fever compounded by an adrenalin rush. I’m sure my coy intervention sent him bolting out of there and back home to his family.

Some people need a little nudge.

I’m not a doctor curing a virus in Africa, but that day I was a stand-up comic without borders and I believed I saved a family in Pico-Robertson.

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