It’s what I do best:
It’s really disconcerting for me when I say something funny and people actually laugh. It feels like I’m being singled out and made much of for just speaking my mind. In my family growing up, ironic wit was just how people talked. It feels really bald and unguarded to say something straight out, so that’s something I would normally only reserve for lecturing or careful argument. Normal conversation is made gentle by layered meaning and ironic inversion.
So, growing up, if you said something terribly clever, you might get a nice chuckle. Scaling down from there, the next level might be a funny face. Otherwise, pleasant conversation consists entirely of wit, irony, and anecdote, sprinkled liberally with quick analytical jabs. Poor shots, of course, merit an eye roll. And then we go on.