Blog post June 22nd, 2026
A little life update since people have been inquiring about the seemingly endless string of bachelors I’ve been auditioning for the role of “boyfriend”.
Yes, I’ve been dating. A lot.
Not in a super fun way either, —more like a steady rotation of coffee dates, dinners, trips to the city, and the occasional “this might actually go somewhere” moment that keeps things interesting.
And I know it raised some eyebrows.
But, life has been doing this thing where a certain special connection with someone you’ve known a long time quietly takes shape while you’re busy looking somewhere else.
I’ve been spending more time in comedy clubs recently because a guy I’ve seen on and off for years (and recently been seeing more of) is a comedian, and for the first time I’m getting to see show business from the other side of the curtain.
At our last show, I found myself standing in the green room trying to act normal and failing only slightly… and then I looked up and realized I had somehow accidentally wandered into a conversation with Jay Leno.
Jay asked me, “Are you working any clubs in Philadelphia?”
And I froze.
Now in my defense, I wasn’t entirely sure whether he meant comedy clubs or strip clubs — and I wasn’t about to ask him to clarify.
So I hit him with the incredibly eloquent:
“Umm… not really.”
Which is unfortunate because in hindsight I could have answered with literally anything cooler.
Show business, I’m learning, is mostly just standing in different rooms pretending you’re supposed to be there.
Later someone else in the green room, Penny, a manager in charge of the line-up, asked me who I was.
And this part made me laugh afterward.
Without thinking, I said:
“I’m Mark’s girlfriend,” I was beaming from ear to ear.
She blinked.
“…Mark has a girlfriend?”
The confusion was immediate. Not offended. Not judgmental. Just genuine surprise, as if she had been informed that Mark secretly owns a horse or speaks fluent Italian.
And honestly? Fair.
The reaction gave me the distinct impression that Mark is not generally known to collect girlfriends, which reassured what I already knew about him. He, much like me, is habitually single, and if we’re being technical, we had never formally ‘defined the relationship’. So by introducing myself this way, I was taking what some might call a romantic leap of faith and others might call a wildly confident administrative decision.
Answering confidently — with absolutely no authority whatsoever — I said,
“I think so. You can ask him.”
And right on cue, moments later, from my peripheral vision while I’m chatting with someone else, I watch Penny march directly over to Mark and essentially announce to the room:
“Mark, you have a girlfriend?!”
Reader, I promise, there was a nonzero chance this was about to become my public humiliation origin story. Things are about to get incredibly corny here on Stripped Awake, which I realize is very against my brand, so consider this your warning.
But he looked over, locked eyes with me, smiled, and said—
“Yes.”
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t briefly leave my body.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just enough to hover six inches above myself and think,
Oh. We’re doing this.
Which, for a girl who once would have rather scooped her eyes out with a spoon than publicly identify herself in relation to a man, was a surprisingly nice place to land.
So, apparently all it takes is one sufficiently charming comedian and suddenly I’m out here saying “Mark’s girlfriend” like I’m accepting an award.
Life is funny like that.
Because somewhere along the line, I learned there’s a difference between disappearing into someone and being proud to stand next to them.
So there I was. In a green room. Calling myself someone’s girlfriend voluntarily.
No hostage situation involved.
Character development, I suppose.
Being in comedy spaces has also reminded me of something I wasn’t expecting:
Comedy and strip clubs are very similar.
Stay with me.
Both are businesses built around attention.
Both require reading a room instantly.
Both reward charisma, timing, emotional intelligence, and making strangers feel like they’re part of something.
Both involve performing a version of yourself while somehow still being authentic.
Both worlds look glamorous from the outside and involve way more hustle, rejection, networking, long nights, and psychological endurance than people realize.
And maybe that’s part of why Mark and I understand each other so well.
Different stages. Same hustle.
There’s something beautiful about people who choose lives that revolve around entertaining strangers. There’s vulnerability in it.
You walk into a room and ask people to see you — whether that’s through jokes, conversation, storytelling, dance, presence.
Show business in all its forms is strange and exhausting.
And lately I’ve just been feeling grateful.
Grateful for unexpected rooms.
Grateful for introductions.
Grateful that life keeps proving there are versions of me I haven’t met yet.
And grateful that for one very surreal moment, Jay Leno may or may not have thought I work at a strip club in Philadelphia.
(and maybe, once upon a time, I did.)
Still, somewhere between networking with people I’ve watched on TV my whole life, and trying to act like I belonged backstage, I had the distinct realization that I had somehow become one of those people who says things like, “Oh, I’m here with my boyfriend.”
Which, honestly, may have been the most shocking plot twist of the evening.
Stripped Awake 
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