Do you have a ‘good’ sense of humour? I reckon most of us want to answer ‘yes’ to that question. Myself very much included. If I’m going to shag someone, not only do I want them to make me laugh but – crucially – I want them to laugh at my jokes too. And although ‘good sense of humour’ is a useful shorthand, because humour is so personal, you’re better off hunting for someone who has a compatible sense of humour, rather than what they describe as a ‘good’ one – I mentioned this in an older blog post about writing the best online dating profile. Most people love to laugh, but not all of us find the same things funny. Someone you think is hilarious might be tedious and irritating to me, and vice versa. I’ve been thinking on this a lot recently, about the ways in which humour can not only entertain us and sometimes laugh us into bed, but also indicate compatibility and green flags in potential partners.
Naturally, a ‘good sense of humour’ isn’t important to everyone. I know there are people in this world who are less bothered by whether a partner can make them laugh than whether they’re loyal, romantic, physically fit… whatever. But to be really clear about my biases here: humour is one of the most important things I’m looking for when I hit the apps. It’s second only to kindness in the list of what I want in a partner. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, after all, and I want a significant amount of that time to be spent laughing, playing, and generally sharing joy.
I reckon there are four increasing levels of compatibility when it comes to someone’s sense of humour…
OK: makes me laugh
When we’re dating, in the first instance I’m looking for someone who can make me laugh. My definition of ‘laugh’ here is broad, you don’t need to be constantly cracking jokes or concluding every conversation with a cheesy pun. Just being playful, messing around, not taking life too seriously. Or, perhaps more accurately, recognising that even when life is throwing serious shit at us, there’s pleasure in laughing through the darkness.
Recently (ish) I went on a date with a very charming, sweet guy who had a really funny dating profile. What hooked me in was not just the little jokes that peppered his bio, but the fact that he’d picked a couple of pictures which had clearly been taken while dicking around with his friends. They were playful. Not ‘laugh out loud’ hilarious but indicative of the kind of person who’d be genuinely fun to hang out with. And honestly, that’s such a huge draw. Looking like you’ll be a laugh is way more compelling than some stone-faced picture of you earnestly showing off your abs. The latter is pretty scary, if I’m honest, but the former is genuinely exciting. If I can picture you smiling, making jokes, and generally showing me a fun time regardless of whether we end up fancying each other, I won’t just say ‘yes’ to a date, I’ll spend time beforehand actively looking forward to it. So I went on a date with this dude. We had a brilliant time doing a Fun Date Activity then discussing it afterwards in the pub. Top work!
Unfortunately, his sense of humour turned out to be wildly incompatible. I loved his playfulness, but his way of being funny was to inject a Dad Joke or terrible pun into almost every topic of conversation. I know a lot of people who would find this fantastic, which is why I want to hammer home the point about having ‘compatible’ senses of humour, rather than ‘good’. One person’s ‘good’ is another’s ‘he kept making Dad Jokes.’ His style just didn’t work for me. What’s more, the fact that he felt the need to keep these jokes coming all the time meant I got the distinct impression he was only listening to what I said order to come up with the next cheesy pun. It was hard to have a conversation, because the puns – which would be fun if they were sporadic and surprising – came so relentlessly that he rarely ever responded to what I actually said. Besides, these constant tangential interruptions meant I never got the chance to hit a punchline of my own.
So point two…
Good: laughs at my jokes
Batshit though this is, in the year 2025, it remains the case that some men genuinely don’t think women can be funny. The few who are willing to say that up front are easy to filter out when you’re dating, but there are some guys who more subtly just don’t buy in to the concept of women making jokes. A fabulous guest blogger has tackled this before, here – straight men can’t joke – and it’s a trend that I and a fair few women have noticed on our travels throughout the world. It’s bizarre and sometimes downright hilarious the way some guys in dating or sex contexts will reply to a woman’s joke with stone-faced earnestness, as if the idea that someone who has tits might also be able to have a laugh is beyond comprehension.
When men have a subconscious belief that women can’t be funny (or at least that we aren’t funny as often as they are, or as deliberately), that can be harder to spot. Sometimes it takes a fair few dates with a guy who’s laughing and joking before you tune in to the fact that the only jokes he’s laughing at are his own.
So someone who actually laughs at my jokes is a must. If I find myself repeatedly having to say ‘I was joking’ or ‘that was a joke’, then we definitely don’t have a compatible sense of humour. There will be men reading this thinking ‘well maybe you’re not funny’ and honestly: fair. Maybe I’m not – to you. But that’s fine. If you don’t think I’m funny, just don’t fuck me. Shrug.
Even better: high-fives my jokes
This is pretty dazzling, isn’t it? Someone who finds you so funny that they specifically recognise when you’re on exceptional form, and respond accordingly? The thing which prompted this particular blog post (in case you’re not aware, 99% of my blog posts, even the ones that seem to just be bland advice guides or rants about body image, are prompted by specific things that happened in my life that I wish to bang on about at length) was an evening spent with a man who has a very compatible sense of humour to my own. Not only do we make each other laugh, he recognises when I’ve said something especially witty by doubling over with laughter and then – when suitably recovered – offering a fist bump or high five.
The dream.
Best: does call-backs to jokes I made earlier
This is the absolute gold standard of a compatible sense of humour. When the person you’re with not only laughs at your jokes, but allows them to sink in and percolate to the point where – later that evening or in six days’ time or even next year – the first thing they reach for when trying to be funny is a call-back to something you said.
There are lots of reasons why this is incredible, and why I’m going to (perhaps cautiously) label it ‘green flag’ behaviour. ‘Green flag‘ meaning ‘a sign that someone is Good For You and probably also Kind and Caring and all that important stuff.’
This is a green flag to me because it means that they actually listen and take on board the things I say. A low bar, perhaps, but an important one. Somebody who calls back to your jokes is someone who registers what you’ve said, appreciates it, and is willing to build on it. That’s the same behaviour that I want in lots of other aspects of a relationship too – I want somebody who takes my stuff, adds their stuff, and identifies ways we can use our collective brilliance to build something greater than the sum of its parts. Call-backs and in-jokes are a way of doing this when you play, and if I were David Attenborough I’d give you a spiel about how this practice during mating rituals helps telegraph someone’s suitability as a longer-term collaborative partner.
This is all secondary, though – it’s the kind of thing I’ll realise and then write about in retrospect. In the moment, the reason this is powerfully excellent behaviour is purely because it makes me feel good. I am rarely ever happier in dating than when I say or do something that the other person remember and brings up later in an appreciative way. Sex moves, ideas for our next date activity, feelings, stories and – perhaps above everything else – jokes.
Here, as in all other relationship situations, the thing I want most of all is to be truly, properly heard.