On going to friends’ shows

I was a college music major. My mother sings. I have sat through my fair share of concerts. Because that’s what grown-ups do, right? We sigh and suck it up and fidget through boring-ass concerts for our friends and family, because we are obligated to try to make these people happy.

Improv is a totally different experience. When I go to friends’ shows, they shower me with gratitude afterwards (“Thanks for coming!! No, really!”). Which feels weird. I just had a great time laughing my head off. I’m the one who came out ahead in this deal; why are they thanking me?

I genuinely enjoy watching improv— good, bad, everything in between. When I know the people who’re improvising, I dunno, it’s even better. My heart swells with pride when they deliver a good beat; my heart breaks when they get flustered; the laugh lines are somehow twice as funny as they would be from someone I’d never met.

When I watch your show, you’ll get no sighing and sucking it up and fidgeting from me. The anticipation and excitement I feel leading up to your little show is the same I’d feel if you were an honest-to-god celebrity. This shit is addictive.

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