Laughter is relationship glue

The Short Version

Three very different people arrive at the same idea: laughter is part of how people stay close, not an extra. Yakov Smirnoff, the Soviet-born comedian, noticed that laughter is there at the start of relationships and gone by the end, so he polled his audiences in what he calls his "laboratory of laughter" and earned a doctorate studying it [1]. Pulitzer-winning poet Jericho Brown treats laughter as a daily discipline, one of the practices that keeps him open to love and, in his words, "keeps me alive" [2]. Michael Malice describes laughter as relief, "a little vacation," and part of his larger fight against cynicism, and he says the families and communities that laugh together, even under oppression, are the ones that stay human [3]. Taken together, their stories suggest that humor shared on purpose, especially in hard seasons, helps couples, families and friends carry each other. The sources give lived experience and one comedian's research, though, not controlled studies.

Table of contents

What They Said

Yakov Smirnoff: the "laboratory of laughter" and why it fades in marriage

Smirnoff's interest in the question came from a double collapse. When the Soviet Union fell, his career fell with it: David Letterman's Top 10 list joked that he would be out of work, and within six months none of his contracts in Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Reno or Tahoe were renewed [1]. His divorce came at the same time, and he started asking why laughter is present at the beginning of relationships but missing at the end [1].

He took the question to the people in front of him. He began polling his audiences, which he calls his laboratory of laughter, and when he asked who would go on a second date with someone who hadn't made them laugh on the first, nobody applauded [1]. For him that silence said a lot: people treat laughter as a basic requirement for choosing a partner, then let it drain away once the relationship is established. While still running his Branson theater, he flew out on weekends to earn a master's in psychology at the University of Pennsylvania and then a doctorate at Pepperdine, and he later taught relationships and laughter at Missouri State University [1].

His framework comes straight from how a joke is built. On stage, the setup has to meet the audience's "needs (what they care about) before the punchline can land, and he argues relationships work the same way [1]. When Joe Rogan pushed back that needs" really means food, shelter and community, Smirnoff explained that he means Maslow's broader hierarchy. Rogan then agreed that audiences connect when a comic truly cares about a topic [1]. The idea behind it is that laughter is a result, not a trick. It shows up when two people feel their needs are being met, and it disappears when they aren't.

To describe those needs, Smirnoff drew on Dr. Willard Harley's book His Needs, Her Needs, which found that couples' top five needs differed by sex [1]. For most women: affection, conversation, openness and honesty, family commitment, and financial support. For most men: sexual fulfillment, admiration, an attractive spouse, a recreational companion, and domestic support [1]. Rogan laughed at "admiration," but Smirnoff held his ground: men crave hearing appreciation for what they do, while women want to be loved for who they are [1]. By his account, a marriage where these needs go unmet is like a room where the setup never lands, and nobody laughs.

The conversation then turned to what happens when admiration turns into rivalry. Rogan recalled Phil Hartman saying his next wife would have to be into something, and the reply in the conversation was that Hartman's wife "probably didn't admire him for what his accomplishments were" [1]. Rogan also described a friend whose comedian boyfriend grew resentful and insulting as her career took off; she had felt that "if he loved me he was he was going to be happy too and he wasn't happy" [1]. Smirnoff's answer was that "it's nice if this was discussed in the beginning of the relationship," because, as the conversation put it, "you don't know what your character flaws are until you're presented by something that tests you" [1].

Smirnoff applied the lesson to himself, too. He said his first marriage repeated his parents' pattern, with a strong mother as "the leader" and a creative father who "would follow her" [1]. He explained: "i subconsciously went with that um that script the manuscript of my life" [1]. He then spent about 20 years single, working to become the steady, strong partner he wanted to be, someone "able to give life to a woman that she can be free creative" [1]. He painted a picture he calls a tree of love to help him see his role [1].

His second marriage came out of this work. At 65, stuck in Kyiv waiting for a replacement passport, he hired three matchmaking agencies and went on 51 dates in two weeks, and none worked out [1]. He decided many agency clients were looking for a way out of the country, so he organized a seminar in Kyiv on relationships and laughter instead. The woman hired to promote it, Olivia, became his wife [1]. He proposed during a hot-air balloon ride on her birthday, with a banner on the ground she couldn't read because she didn't yet know English. They have been married seven years and have a one-year-old [1]. The research on laughter in love led him, fairly literally, to his wife.

He also sees his stage act as a way to bring couples closer. Describing audiences at his recent shows, he said: "they might come in disconnected, but then all of a sudden you see how they put their hands next to each other" [1]. When Rogan called him "a uniter, he agreed that bringing couples closer is really my goal [1]. He admires Nate Bargatze for the same reason. At Bargatze's shows you look around and see grandma and and grandchildren and parents but everyone's laughing" [1]. He still believes laughter is the lubricant that keeps relationships running, and Rogan agreed it works like medicine [1].

Not everyone in comedy takes the academic side seriously. Smirnoff recalled Jay Leno dismissing his doctorate with "you write a joke, you tell a joke, you pick up a check" [1]. That skepticism is worth keeping in mind: the laboratory of laughter is a comedian polling his audiences, informed by graduate study. It is not a published clinical trial.

Jericho Brown: laughter as a daily practice of joy

Jericho Brown comes at laughter from pain rather than research. He grew up queer in Louisiana, absorbing messages that something about him was wrong, and he speaks openly about being raped and contracting HIV, experiences that nearly broke him [2]. His recovery rested on turning belief into practice, and laughter is one of those practices.

He is plain about it: joy takes intention. He schedules time to laugh, and if nothing else has made him giggle that day, he watches The Golden Girls [2]. He calls joy an act of survival: "I set aside time every day for Jericho to laugh. Because that's what keeps me alive." [2]. He isn't waiting for something funny to happen to him. He books it like an appointment.

The link to relationships comes through what laughter makes possible. Brown's broader argument is that belief has to be followed by practice [2]. He made time to laugh, and he practiced saying "I love you too" out loud before falling asleep, so that one day love would meet him in real life. He says it worked: "I knew I was meant for love and for joy. And I created a life around that belief." [2]. In his account, laughter and love are trained the same way, through repetition, so the capacity is there when the moment comes.

He extends this to men in particular. Straight men, he points out, are socialized to hide their feelings and then criticized when they can't connect [2]. His solution is practice: practice intimacy, practice laughter, practice failing without shame, practice crying, practice telling someone "I love you too" [2]. The people who look strongest, he says, are usually the ones who have learned to be soft, and he warns: "If you can't be vulnerable, you will never fall in love. And everybody I know wants to fall in love." [2]. Laughter sits in the same list as crying and saying "I love you." It is a way of letting your guard down that has to be rehearsed.

Brown also ties joy to community. "If I had handled it alone, I don't know that I'd still be here. We heal in honest community." [2]. And he describes a kind of intimacy that costs almost nothing: a "date night" with just a blanket, a playlist and a sandwich, which he uses to argue that resourcefulness and presence beat perfection [2]. His picture of a good relationship is people being present with each other, not an expensive production, and his daily laughter is part of staying able to be present.

Michael Malice: laughter as relief and a weapon against cynicism

Michael Malice, the anarchist author and podcast host, talks about laughter in his Thanksgiving conversation with Lex Fridman on three levels: what it does for a person, what it does for oppressed people, and what it does for families.

First, relief. Malice loves absurdity, and he says making light of dark subjects is itself absurd [3]. He cites a line he attributes, via Joan Rivers, to Winston Churchill: "when you make people laugh, you're giving them a little vacation" [3]. He explains the craft with a cooking analogy: "It's pretty easy to make bacon taste good." The skill is in making difficult ingredients palatable [3]. "So if you're dealing with a subject that is very emotional or intense, and you can make people laugh, then that takes skill. And that's the relief for them." [3]. He wants his own funeral to be a roast, because everyone's sadness won't help him: "tell stories of how I made you laugh. Make fun of me. Make me the punching bag." [3]. For Malice, laughter is what gets people through grief together. It doesn't pretend grief isn't there.

Second, laughter among people with little else. Malice visited North Korea in 2012 and says what breaks his heart is that the people there have a great sense of humor [3]. "It would be a lot easier if these were robots or drones. They have big personalities, big sense of humor. And that made it much harder to leave and interact with these people." [3]. His conclusion: "there's nothing more human and universal than laughter and laughter is free." [3]. He also notes that African American, Jewish and gay Americans are disproportionately represented in comedy, because outsiders see the mainstream from a distance and, with little to lose, find joy by making each other laugh [3]. Fridman adds that Soviet humor owes something to a deep literary education, with a dark streak and plenty of wordplay [3]. In all these cases, shared humor is how a group under pressure keeps its spirit.

Third, family. Asked what he's thankful for, Malice starts with his family, especially his six-year-old nephew Lucas: "when kids have a sense of humor, it's like just miraculous." [3]. He tells how he pranked his little sister into believing she had needed eye surgery as a baby, and how his mother and grandmother played along without missing a beat. His mother told her, "honey, the important thing is that you're beautiful now" [3]. His verdict: "this is a quality family in this very specific regard." [3]. The story has a sharper side. Malice doesn't speak to his father, partly because there was never any "good job," yet he credits that same father, whom he calls extremely intelligent and very flawed, with his sense of humor and love of learning [3]. Humor passed down the family line even when approval never did.

Finally, Malice places laughter inside a broader stance against cynicism. He rants against the claim that all contemporary art is garbage, pointing to affordable galleries and countless Etsy artisans making beautiful things. He compares mediocre art to an opening comedian who still makes you laugh [3]. You can always find an excuse to be miserable, he says, or you can look for joy instead [3]. He wants people to live joyfully on behalf of those who never got the chance, echoing Camus, whom Fridman calls his hero in fighting cynicism [3]. When Fridman says he's most thankful for how beautiful people and the world are, Malice agrees: "I'd rather be the person who sees beauty than the person who sees garbage." [3]. Seen this way, laughter is part of choosing, again and again, not to give up on people.

Where They Agree, and Where They Don't

They agree that laughter is essential. Smirnoff's audiences won't even go on a second date without it [1]. Brown says it keeps him alive [2]. Malice calls it the most human and universal thing there is [3]. None of them treats humor as trivial.

They agree it matters most when things are hard. Smirnoff took up the question of laughter in love at the lowest point of his life, with his career gone and his marriage over [1]. Brown's daily laughter grew out of surviving shame, sexual assault and HIV [2]. Malice's clearest examples are North Koreans, Soviet families and outsider communities, and his own planned funeral roast [3]. The shared point is that laughter is a tool for getting through bad times together, not only a sign that times are good.

They agree it can be cultivated. Brown is the most explicit: he schedules laughter daily and practices it alongside intimacy and vulnerability [2]. Smirnoff treats it as something you can study, poll and teach in seminars [1]. Malice treats good humor as a skill, like cooking with difficult ingredients, and as a choice to look for joy [3].

They differ on what laughter is for. For Smirnoff, it is mostly a sign of the relationship's health. It fades when needs such as admiration, affection and conversation go unmet, so to bring it back you have to meet the needs, not just tell more jokes [1]. For Brown, laughter is mainly personal: a daily practice that keeps his spirit alive and ready for love. His examples are mostly about him alone with The Golden Girls, not him laughing with a partner [2]. For Malice, laughter is relief and resistance, a "little vacation" and a sign of stubborn humanity. He talks about it with family, friends and communities rather than romantic couples [3].

Only one of them talks directly about couples. Only Smirnoff speaks to romantic partnership head-on [1]. Applying Brown's and Malice's ideas to couples is an inference: Brown links practiced laughter to becoming able to love [2], and Malice shows humor holding a family together [3]. That's a reasonable reading of the pattern, but it is not something all three said about marriage.

They see humor's edges differently. Malice defends dark humor and dislikes it when people say something "isn't funny" [3]. Smirnoff moved toward family-friendly material after Branson and admires comics like Bargatze whose work whole families can share [1]. They don't argue about it, but they imply different views of what kind of laughter brings people together. Smirnoff favors humor everyone in the room can share, while Malice values humor that makes the unbearable bearable, even when it's dark.

Why It Works

The sources offer mechanisms, not controlled studies.

Laughter depends on needs being met. Smirnoff's main mechanism is the comedy setup: a punchline only lands once the setup has met what the audience cares about [1]. In a relationship, laughter shows up when partners feel their needs are met. He cites Harley's lists: affection, conversation, openness and honesty, family commitment and financial support for most women; sexual fulfillment, admiration, an attractive spouse, a recreational companion and domestic support for most men [1]. When those go unmet, the laughter fades, and his audience polling suggests people notice the loss [1].

Admiration keeps couples on the same side. Rogan's and Smirnoff's stories about Phil Hartman and the resentful comedian boyfriend show the opposite of shared laughter: partners competing, where "those magnets repel" [1]. Smirnoff's emphasis on admiration, meaning a partner who is glad about the other's success, describes the condition under which two people can laugh together instead of keeping score [1].

Relief is a break from pressure. Malice's "little vacation" is a short escape from pain: humor takes an emotional or intense subject and makes it bearable, "and that's the relief for them" [3]. When people share that relief, like mourners at a roast or a family in on the same prank, they come through the hard moment together.

Practice builds the capacity. Brown's mechanism is repetition. Laughing every day, saying "I love you too" out loud, practicing crying and failing without shame: these build the openness that love needs [2]. If you can't be vulnerable, he says, you will never fall in love [2]. Laughter is one of the easiest ways to practice being unguarded.

Shared laughter is a physical signal. Smirnoff watches couples arrive disconnected and then reach for each other's hands as the laughter builds [1]. It's one observer's account, but it shows laughter doing its work in real time.

Where It Applies, and Where It Doesn't

Where it applies:

• Dating and early commitment. Smirnoff's audiences treat laughter on a first date as a test for a second one [1].
• Long marriages where the spark has faded. That is the exact problem Smirnoff set out to study after his divorce [1].
• Families under strain. Malice's family pranks and the dark, literary humor of Soviet households show humor holding families together, even ones with deep rifts like his break with his father [3].
• Personal recovery and resilience. Brown's daily laughter kept him going through trauma and illness and helped prepare him for love [2].
• Communities under pressure. Malice's North Korea observations and his point about outsider groups in comedy show humor keeping people human in hard conditions [3].

Where it doesn't, or needs care:

• Laughter can't replace meeting real needs. In Smirnoff's framework, laughter is the payoff, not the setup. A couple whose needs for admiration, affection or honest conversation go unmet won't joke their way back [1].
• Rivalry and resentment kill it. When one partner resents the other's success, as with Rogan's friend and her comedian boyfriend, the problem is character and competition, not a shortage of jokes [1]. Some of this only shows up when life tests you [1].
• Humor doesn't fix every relationship. Malice's father gave him humor but never approval, and they are estranged [3]. Humor passed down in a family doesn't guarantee closeness.
• Serious trauma needs more than laughter. Brown laughs daily, but he also credits honest community, spiritual practice and art for his healing [2]. For depression, trauma or a relationship in crisis, it is wise to also get a qualified therapist's or counselor's advice.
• The evidence is thin. Smirnoff's laboratory is audience polling plus graduate study, and even Jay Leno scoffed at it [1]. Brown and Malice speak from personal experience [2][3]. None of the sources gives measured outcomes.

What To Do With It

1. Schedule laughter like an appointment. Follow Brown's rule and set aside time every day to laugh. If nothing has made you giggle by evening, put on the show that always works for you, the way he uses The Golden Girls [2].
2. Treat fading laughter as a warning sign. If you and your partner laugh less than you did at the start, take Smirnoff's view that something underneath isn't being met, rather than assuming you've simply run out of material [1].
3. Ask about each other's top needs. Use Harley's lists, which Smirnoff cites, as a starting point: affection, conversation, openness, admiration, companionship and support. Talk about which matter most to each of you [1].
4. Say out loud that you admire your partner. Smirnoff says men in particular crave appreciation for what they do, and women want to be loved for who they are [1]. Celebrate your partner's wins instead of competing with them [1].
5. Talk early about how you'll handle each other's success. Smirnoff wishes these conversations happened at the beginning of relationships, since you don't know your character flaws until something tests you [1].
6. Go laugh together somewhere. Smirnoff watches couples arrive at comedy shows disconnected and leave holding hands [1]. Choose humor you can both enjoy. He points to family-friendly comics whose shows grandparents, parents and kids all share [1].
7. Make hard moments lighter together, with good timing. Take Malice's "little vacation" idea: when a subject is heavy, careful humor can bring relief [3]. Humor lands when the setup respects what people are feeling [1][3].
8. Build a family culture of shared jokes. Malice's mother and grandmother played along with his prank without a second thought, and he calls that a quality family [3]. Pranks, callbacks and in-jokes remind everyone they're on the same side.
9. Practice being unguarded. Brown pairs laughter with practicing intimacy, crying, failing without shame and saying "I love you too" [2]. Laughter works best as one part of a broader habit of being open with people.
10. Choose joy over cynicism on purpose. Malice says you can always find an excuse to be miserable, or you can look for joy. He would "rather be the person who sees beauty than the person who sees garbage" [3]. Bring that choice to the people you love.

Sources

1. Yakov Smirnoff on Surviving the Fall of the Soviet Union, Rebuilding in Branson, and the Science of Laughter in Love · The Joe Rogan Experience
2. Unlock Self-Confidence, Heal Trauma & Make Money as an Artist with Pulitzer Prize Winner Jericho Brown · The School of Greatness
3. Thanksgiving Pirate Special · Lex Fridman Podcast