Post-coitus: it’s that intimate moment of openness, where people say weird, wonderful and often brutally honest things. As a vast array of recordings play out from the speakers, Abigoliah Schamaun has people giggling before she’s even set foot onstage.
Schamaun engaged with her audience brilliantly, making eye contact that had warmth not awkwardness.
Crowd successfully warmed, Schamaun eventually strides up to the mic, full of colour and life, with one of those faces that just exudes cheerful cheek. She literally runs with her pivotal story – she’s doing the marathon (hurtful laughter occurs) and makes a bet with her boyfriend over whether she can abstain from alcohol until the 26.2 miles are complete. The terms of the bet are…kinky, to say the least.
Hilarity ensues as we learn about her sexual liberalness in contrast to her conservative Ohio upbringing. Not to mention her long-term relationship with pizza. That tangent isn’t the most original one, but the occasional pauses revealing further confession recordings certainly are. Lights change, Schamaun freezes and real life strangeness spouts out of the speakers.
She spends the hour delightfully debunking a number of sex myths: that sex is not how Hollywood see it, that it’s not beautiful, it’s not romantic. It’s actually pretty gross but ultimately satisfying, ‘a bit like pooping’.
Schamaun engaged with her audience brilliantly, making eye contact that had warmth not awkwardness. She also managed to collate a few more post-coital confessions while she was there: ‘it’s very personal, I know’ but three were offered up. Her hilarity had gained your trust.
Remarkably, the comic avoids thrusting sex talk down your throat; the gags instead come from analysing her relationships with down-to-earth wit and general quips. You could take your grandma, and she’d probably nod in agreement rather than tut with disappointment.
Post-Coital Confessions is frank, open and mature, despite having a silly, sleazy edge. Take your grandma; go on, I dare you.