A rambling, atypical take on divorce

Although comedian Ali Wong talks about sex on stage, her first three specials emerged from a time when sexual constraints prevailed: a long-term, monogamous marriage. In “Single Lady,” her fourth, self-directed hour, all guardrails are suspended. Two years ago, Wong divorced her husband of almost ten years. What followed was carnal Rumspringa Wong now tells the story with the same joyfully vivid detail that she once used when giving birth to her first child. “I really burst into tears,” says the 42-year-old and has the appropriate anecdotes at the ready.

But with Single Lady, Wong wants to do more than just recount her exploits to an enthusiastic audience at LA's Wiltern Theater. The stand-up wants to transform the middle-aged divorcee from a pathetic figure according to popular stereotype into a triumphant one, with herself being the leading example. “Look how much fun I’m having,” she admonishes her audience. Wong makes a compelling case, albeit less about the broader situation of midlife divorce than about her own highly extraordinary circumstances—starting with the fact that her own breakup was national news, an experience she describes as “a bat signal , which informs all potentially interested men, “I was suddenly available.”

According to Wong, these men include a famous film director; a 25-year-old who sent the performer her first-ever thirst trap video; a 60-year-old who screamed as he reached his climax; a Japanese-American drummer; and a white man who couldn't tell a teacup from a rice bowl. “I’m not trying to trap a man anymore,” Wong explains, referencing the theme of her 2016 breakout special “Baby Cobra.” Freed from the constraints of obligation, she can taste everything the modern meat market offers has to offer.

“Baby Cobra” ended with a brilliant reversal. Despite Wong's insistence that she just wanted a rich husband to take care of her, it was true she who ended up paying off her spouse's student loans. This bait-and-switch tactic established money and the agency it provides as key to Wong's body of work, which now includes an Emmy-winning role in Beef as well as her comedy. Motherhood, Asian American identity, and transgressive profanity are all typical motifs, but it is the wealth that Wong discusses in Single Lady, as in previous releases, with a truly unique level of openness and pride.

Wong insists that her suitors pay for the first date. “I know that sounds crazy,” she grins. “Because I’m a millionaire.” This allows her to fly her contacts to LA, outfit her house with Toto toilets, and, most importantly, approach dating as a “financially independent divorced mom.” For most women, a relationship is both an economic and a romantic institution. For Wong, dating is all about her own desires, a mindset that most of her civilian colleagues will see as aspirational escapism rather than a realistic model.

“Don Wong,” the 2022 special, showed a similar level of bravery. Of all the taboos Wong breaks, from confronting the bloody truth of breastfeeding to working during her visible pregnancy, the unabashed acceptance of her own success may pose the greatest challenge to societal norms. In “Don Wong,” where Wong talked about the secrets to a healthy marriage, this attitude flirted with complacency. And in “Single Lady,” Wong is still anything but vulnerable – she begins the special by admitting she was embarrassed by the publicity surrounding her divorce, but ends by emphasizing that she is with her co-parent and ex is the best friend. The reasons for the end of the marriage are never discussed.

From her new perspective, however, Wong's confidence seems a little more defiant. When she moves on from an affair, she is more interested in gaining material from the exchange than dealing with her date's feelings; When admirers shower her with gifts, she has no qualms about accepting the free loot, regardless of whether she actually wants to date the sender or not. One of the few false notes in the special is Wong's repeated self-identification as a “Type 6,” in contrast to the 10-year-olds who were her age after she last navigated her single life. To her credit and to our delight, Wong is clearly neither average-looking nor particularly gentle with others. One of the best parts of “Single Lady” shows her blatant condescension toward insecure male comedians and the younger women she has babysat at various dinner parties. It's not very sisterly of Wong to make fun of “Insta-Hoes,” but it is what it is Is a true expression of some less than PC feelings.

Wong's fans already know that the title “Single Lady” is something of a misnomer. Since last year, the comedian has been in a public relationship with Bill Hader, a relationship she alludes to throughout the hour without mentioning her new partner by name. (She states that she can only seriously spend time with a divorced father because she needs a man who will “get yelled at first.”) This development gives Wong a nice ending and allows her to see her exploration as a closed, finite chapter to shape it can be integrated into your plot. However, despite common theories such as “For women, 40 is the golden age – to get divorced,” it is obvious that Wong's last two years have been as extraordinary as her talents. Not all divorcees will be as sought after as Wong was in the immediate aftermath, and almost none will turn her saga into such an entertaining account. “Single Lady” is anything but a how-to guide, but it is a compelling account of her experience.

Ali Wong: Single Lady is now streaming on Netflix.