He loves giving chocolate, back rubs, and little notes—if he didn’t look like Danny Tanner from Full House then T.J. Dawe would be the perfect husband. But according to Dawe, looks aren’t as important to women as they are to men; and if that’s true, then he gets a lot of pussy.
Dawe is an actor/comedian/writer/director and quasi-women’s rights activist who has done over 700 solo performances in his life. He performed his current show, Maxim & Cosmo, on Friday, March 14, to a mostly female crowd in the sex capital of the world: Surrey.
Perched on a stool between sparse background props, Dawe began his animated dialogue by admitting he judges people by scanning the titles on their bookshelves: literally judging a book by its cover. But by doing this, he started noticing that women all owned the same books and one day he started reading chick lit—and he discovered his feminine side, which has helped him on and off the stage.
“Here’s the thing,” said Dawe in an interview with the Other Press, “the things I describe as “what women want” aren’t hard. Backrubs—I love giving backrubs. A seemingly selfless reason for a woman to take her shirt off? And let me touch her? Sign me up! Chocolate—I used to keep a chocolate bar hidden in the apartment at all times for my girlfriend. She’d get to craving chocolate, I’d disappear into anther room, bring it out—and voila! It was as if I presented her with a diamond.”
Although Dawe admits he doesn’t like sports, dogs, strippers, or guns, (and likes Rush and foreplay), he is still very much a man—a slob who loves sex with women. Nothing is left sacred in his routine, and he talks about why North American swear words are body and church based (holy shit, asshole, cock), society’s pressure on women to face up to an impossible standard (the Virgin Mother), and why there is no patron saint of sex (“Where is Samantha, patron saint of girls who like to fuck?”).
Dawe writes his own monologue, which is inspired by personal experience. “I stopped trying to be a regular actor because I wanted to say my own lines. It’s much more fun, much more satisfying to me to talk about what happens to me or to people I’ve talked to. The everyday lives of people are incredibly interesting to me. So the show’s an extension of me talking to a friend, or a group of friends.”
The hour-and-a-half-long act also has serious overtones, where Dawe shows as much empathy for women’s plights (rape, sexism, lack of orgasms) as only a man can. But his most humorous moments come when he imitates himself having sex, and when he acts as a freshly-laid Jesus and proclaims the “second-coming.” Hearing a man yell out to a hundred people that he has “struck cunt!” or wants someone to fill him with sperm is pretty amusing, too.
There may be “no flying kicks, no falling chandeliers, no dance sequences” and “no slipping on a banana peel,” but Dawes reminds those that may crave action that “there are dick jokes” in Maxim & Cosmo; and although sometimes predictable, the peals of laughter emitting from the crowd shows his spoken humour makes up for the lack of physical shtick and banana peels.
Dawe publishes all of his previous scripts, and they are available through his website, www.tjdawe.com. (If he publishes Maxim & Cosmo, it will be the perfect stocking stuffer for any woman’s boyfriend—it should actually be required reading for guys in high school.) He is also looking ahead. “I’m memorizing for my next show (which takes months of practice), I’ve got a summer tour booked for it, and I hit the road in May.” Let’s hope Dawe strikes cunt again with his next performance.
Dawe is an actor/comedian/writer/director and quasi-women’s rights activist who has done over 700 solo performances in his life. He performed his current show, Maxim & Cosmo, on Friday, March 14, to a mostly female crowd in the sex capital of the world: Surrey.
Perched on a stool between sparse background props, Dawe began his animated dialogue by admitting he judges people by scanning the titles on their bookshelves: literally judging a book by its cover. But by doing this, he started noticing that women all owned the same books and one day he started reading chick lit—and he discovered his feminine side, which has helped him on and off the stage.
“Here’s the thing,” said Dawe in an interview with the Other Press, “the things I describe as “what women want” aren’t hard. Backrubs—I love giving backrubs. A seemingly selfless reason for a woman to take her shirt off? And let me touch her? Sign me up! Chocolate—I used to keep a chocolate bar hidden in the apartment at all times for my girlfriend. She’d get to craving chocolate, I’d disappear into anther room, bring it out—and voila! It was as if I presented her with a diamond.”
Although Dawe admits he doesn’t like sports, dogs, strippers, or guns, (and likes Rush and foreplay), he is still very much a man—a slob who loves sex with women. Nothing is left sacred in his routine, and he talks about why North American swear words are body and church based (holy shit, asshole, cock), society’s pressure on women to face up to an impossible standard (the Virgin Mother), and why there is no patron saint of sex (“Where is Samantha, patron saint of girls who like to fuck?”).
Dawe writes his own monologue, which is inspired by personal experience. “I stopped trying to be a regular actor because I wanted to say my own lines. It’s much more fun, much more satisfying to me to talk about what happens to me or to people I’ve talked to. The everyday lives of people are incredibly interesting to me. So the show’s an extension of me talking to a friend, or a group of friends.”
The hour-and-a-half-long act also has serious overtones, where Dawe shows as much empathy for women’s plights (rape, sexism, lack of orgasms) as only a man can. But his most humorous moments come when he imitates himself having sex, and when he acts as a freshly-laid Jesus and proclaims the “second-coming.” Hearing a man yell out to a hundred people that he has “struck cunt!” or wants someone to fill him with sperm is pretty amusing, too.
There may be “no flying kicks, no falling chandeliers, no dance sequences” and “no slipping on a banana peel,” but Dawes reminds those that may crave action that “there are dick jokes” in Maxim & Cosmo; and although sometimes predictable, the peals of laughter emitting from the crowd shows his spoken humour makes up for the lack of physical shtick and banana peels.
Dawe publishes all of his previous scripts, and they are available through his website, www.tjdawe.com. (If he publishes Maxim & Cosmo, it will be the perfect stocking stuffer for any woman’s boyfriend—it should actually be required reading for guys in high school.) He is also looking ahead. “I’m memorizing for my next show (which takes months of practice), I’ve got a summer tour booked for it, and I hit the road in May.” Let’s hope Dawe strikes cunt again with his next performance.
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