Unqualified

  (If someone called into the podcast asking if she should leave her husband for a hot actor she hadn’t slept with but already had an emotional connection with, I would totally call her out, so I can’t give myself a total pass. Damn podcast.)

  Chris and I grew closer over the rest of the shoot. You might think that, fresh off an almost decade-long relationship, I would be hesitant to move on to the next, but I couldn’t have fallen more headfirst into my feelings for Chris.

  The relationship felt so different than my previous ones. It was laughter all the time. On one of our first dates, we were in a restaurant and Chris swatted at a fly. It was on the table and still kind of partially moving so I grabbed it and popped it in my mouth and ate it. It was weird and gross and impulsive but spoke to that part of me that indulgently wants to freak people out. I was taking a gamble that it would pay off and he’d be impressed, and it paid off. I think I was also trying to prove that I was a soldier, and that I wasn’t afraid of anything. I take pride in not being a high-maintenance person, which is probably exactly the kind of thing a high-maintenance person would say.

  From doing the podcast, I’ve come to learn that guys like to come to the rescue. On one of our episodes, I asked Sim if he was turned on by girls who know a lot about sports (Sim is a sports nut). He said no, and then went on to say that what actually turns him on is getting to educate women about sports, and of course that makes sense. I was frustrated with myself for not coming to that conclusion on my own, because I think a lot of men really do like that “Oh, I’m helpless, will you save me?” personality trait. That’s a quality I don’t have—I’m too proud to play the damsel in distress. Instead I eat a half-dead fly and then I’m like, “Wanna make out?”

  After filming was over, Chris and I got a rental car and drove back to LA from Phoenix together with all my shit. Upon returning, I had a lot to deal with in terms of ending my marriage. So I slept on a friend’s couch, wore the same clothes every day, and got rides from Chris because Ben had our car. My life was pretty bizarre at the time, and, in terms of my relationship with Chris, I was on high alert. There was all the baggage from my marriage, but I’d also seen Chris hook up with a handful of people on our set, and I knew some of the people he had dated in the past. The point is, I had my guard up.

  Still, we moved fast. I think that’s just the way I’m programmed. I like to know where things are going. I need the security, and hate having questions unanswered. So when it comes to guys, I like assurance that they’re in it. I like being certain of the goal. I guess that’s why I didn’t date much, and was never very good at it. I’m too desperate for answers.

  That need for a clearly defined relationship is likely to blame for one of the more awkward interactions in my life, which came only a few months into dating Chris. Before we got together, he had planned a month-long backpacking trip through Europe with his friends and costars from the TV show Everwood. A month or so before he left, I was already irrationally resentful of the trip. I think it was partly because he had never called me his girlfriend before. I had no promise from him that things would pick up again when he got back. I knew Chris was crazy about me, and I was crazy about him, and he called all the time and we spent every night together, but we’d never officially used the boyfriend/girlfriend labels.

  When he left, I felt abandoned. I was lonely, and pissed off he didn’t call me his girlfriend, and I was starting to wonder if maybe he was just a player. Thus began that very brief period of time where I said, “Fuck it. I’m just going to screw my way through Hollywood.” I didn’t, though. I went to some parties and awkwardly asked guys out, but I didn’t have the language to actually be romantically savvy. I would say, “Do you want to go out with me?” And when the guy said, “What?” I’d say, “What about your friend?”

  So one night, while Chris was away and I hadn’t talked to him in a couple of days, I went to a party and met a cute lawyer who worked in the district attorney’s office. We seemed to hit it off, and a few days later, I invited him to meet me for a drink. I had never successfully asked anyone out before, but I figured that Chris was in Europe probably hooking up with other people, so I should be doing the same, if only in LA. Of course, I didn’t actually want to, deep down. It wasn’t like this lawyer and I had an especially magical moment. I was just trying to build a wall to protect myself against the hurt that I saw coming.

  When the lawyer showed up for our date, I didn’t even recognize him. We’d met on a really dark rooftop and this was a really light restaurant, and I think I was more focused on myself than I was on him during that first meeting. But we had a drink and he drove me home and I invited him in for a nightcap. The whole time I was thinking about Chris, but the lawyer came in and I went in for the kill: “So do you want to have sex with me?” I asked, not seductively at all.

  To his credit, the lawyer said, “You know, I think we’ve had too much to drink. Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Ugh, fine,” I said, pissed off that this guy wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to take advantage of me.

  The next day, Chris called me from a train to Prague. I could tell there were girls in the background and I was boiling with anger at the idea that he would talk to me while he was having his fun with some probably impossibly sophisticated European ladies. Or maybe they were some cool hippie Americans who actually enjoy backpacking through Europe. Either way, I wasn’t having it.

  But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he said, “I just love you so much. I just want to marry you.”

  Needless to say, I never talked to the lawyer again.

  I like to think that subconsciously I was interested in that specific guy because in my heart of hearts I knew that he wouldn’t really have sex with me, even when I offered. I could have picked an easier target if I really wanted to get laid, but I think there was a subconscious reason that I chose to flirt with someone who was so incredibly practical. Or is that called ethical?

  When Chris got home I finally broached the issue of our labels.

  “Are we doing this?” I asked. “Can I introduce you as my boyfriend?”

  He looked at me like I had three heads. “Yeah, of course,” he said, and I was hit with a wave of guilt. I thought Chris wasn’t calling me his girlfriend intentionally. That he was being noncommittal. But it was more that we weren’t being social. We never did anything where the opportunity to call me his girlfriend presented itself. We were just having sex and making each other food all the time.

  Chris and I moved in together after nine months of dating. I guess I really like to jump in there! But living with Chris was an entirely different experience. He was so low-maintenance. After my divorce, I couldn’t sell my house, so I had to essentially rebuy it from Ben. I was pretty broke but I was excited to move back in, and Chris’s lease was up, so I suggested we live together.

  “Does it bother you at all that I lived here with my ex?” I asked him once.

  “No, not really,” he said, and even though I think it actually did, his was a really generous answer. Still, it was a relief to both of us when we bought our new place a couple of years later. There was a feeling of joint ownership, like we were starting a new phase as a team.

  It was kind of Chris to not make me feel guilty that we lived in my old house. It was similar to when I asked him if he was bothered by the fact that I was married before and he said, unsurprisingly, the perfect thing.

  “Baby, you were just chilling on ice.”

  Turning the Tables: Deal Breakers

  When we do the “Deal Breakers” segment on the podcast, I’m always surprised by the things that some people say they’d put up with in a romantic partner—and, on the flip side, the things that some people just won’t tolerate. Cassie Daniels, a segment producer for Unqualified, presented me with some deal breakers. It’s a good, and bizarre, exercise in introspection.

  If a guy shaves his legs—is that a deal
breaker?

  Anna:Why does he shave his legs?

  Cassie:Purely aesthetic. He doesn’t like the look of hair.

  Anna:Does he not like hair on me as well?

  Cassie:Well, he hopes you shave, too.

  Anna:I’m going to say deal breaker. I worry this leads into other high-maintenance issues. I love weirdness in a guy, but this could be a gateway behavior. And is there a lot of hair that gets stuck in the drain? And what if he uses my razor? That would be annoying. I’d wonder why he doesn’t do laser. I think the shaving would probably be about some insecurities that are bigger than just leg hair, so I’d try to say, “It’s okay, you can embrace the hair.” But I don’t have the energy to build anyone’s confidence right now.

  You’re dating a guy and you’re on one of your first dates. You go back to his place after a lovely evening, and he shows you his desk with electrical parts on it and tells you he is building a time machine. Then he looks deep into your eyes and asks you if you’ll come with him when he’s ready. Deal breaker?

  Anna:Not a deal breaker. This is a really interesting person. It might not be the person I marry, but I think I would have a lot of follow-up questions. The most obvious one would be where would you go first?

  Cassie:He’d go to 1973.

  Anna:Why?

  Cassie:He just thinks it was really an interesting time. People were so much more open. He loved the energy.

  Anna:Does he like Back to the Future?

  Cassie:Loves it. Huge fan. It’s his favorite movie.

  Anna:Hmmm. On the page, he sounds like an interesting person. But now I’m worried that the conversation is going to go a little stale. I guess I would ask him, “Do you really believe in this? That we are truly traveling back in time?”

  Cassie:“Well, there are a lot of doubters,” he’d say. “But you can’t let doubters stop you from achieving your dreams. But we don’t have to stay there for longer than a year.”

  Anna:Oh, we’re going long-term?

  Cassie:Yeah, it’s awhile.

  Anna:Can we go to the future? Because as a woman there aren’t a lot of times I want to go back to.

  Cassie:He doesn’t have that technology.

  Anna:How much time does he spend on his time machine?

  Cassie:All the time he’s not with you.

  Anna:I take it back. Deal breaker. That’s too much time spent on the time machine.

  Cassie:Could you be friends?

  Anna:Sure. He’d be my curious friend who is into the 1970s. I would take a day trip up the coast to Hearst Castle with him.

  Cassie:But nothing romantic?

  Anna:I don’t know. I would be interested to see what he’s like as a lover, maybe. If we were friends and there was a little hookup, I’d be interested to see what a time-traveling man was up to in bed. And I like that he picked 1973. Maybe he’s a generous lover. So we’d take an overnighter and stay at a roadside inn and talk about his vast knowledge of history. You know what? Okay, I take it back. I’m a curious person—not a deal breaker.

  You’re having sex with a guy, let’s call him Alex, and during the deed he calls you by his sister’s name. Deal breaker?

  Anna:What’s his sister’s name?

  Cassie:Julie.

  Anna:Oh boy, this is a tough one. I don’t think I would immediately stop, because I’m not good with surprises like that. I think in my head I’d be thinking, Did I hear that correctly? As opposed to stopping and asking, “Did you just call me by your sister’s name?” I hate to say this, I wish that I could feel comfortable enough to ask him about it afterward, but I feel like I might ask my friends what to do. Do I really like this guy?

  Cassie:Yeah you like him a lot. But it’s still new.

  Anna:Then maybe I would have to ask him afterward—and I would be supertentative about it, because if I really liked him I would want to believe that I heard him wrong, even if it were superaudible. As we’re cleaning up—in the postcoital—I’d say, “Hey, I feel like you said Julie when we were having sex. Did I hear you correctly?”

  Cassie:He’s going to tell you, “You did. I was really embarrassed, and wasn’t sure if you heard it. I was talking to my sister earlier, and we’ve been arguing a lot so she’s been on my mind.”

  Anna:“Has that ever happened before?”

  Cassie:“No, never.”

  Anna:“It was a little jarring for me. I’ve never called out my brother’s name after sex.”

  Cassie:“I don’t want to have sex with her. She’s just in my head right now.”

  Anna:“Yeah, it’s weird how during sex the rational parts of your brain shut off. But, it threw me a little bit.”

  Cassie:“I’m only attracted to you. Not my sister.”

  Anna:“That’s probably good. Thank you.”

  Cassie:“Are we good?”

  Anna:“Yeah. You know, truthfully, I’m working really hard at being straightforward with people, so I’ll just say that I kind of need to digest this for a minute.”

  Cassie:“I feel like you’re being really judgmental.”

  Anna:“I don’t mean to be, this is just new for me.”

  Cassie:“If you want, I could call my sister and she could explain that there’s nothing sexual between us.”

  Anna:“No, I believe you. I don’t need to call Julie, I just need a minute. Let’s take a minute and chat in a bit.” And then I would leave and call you, Cassie. If he has a lot of other great qualities I think I would give it a one-time pass. It would be weird and I’d never forget it, but if it happened a second time I would definitely be like, “I’m confused and can’t get over it.” My personal rule is no names during sex. It’s such a deliberate thing to use a name. Like, Okay, I’m going to call him Alex now. I’m trying to shut down that part of my brain during sex.

  Cassie:What about if he cried after sex?

  Anna:I would find it fascinating but I don’t think I would judge him on it. I would tell my friends about Julie but I wouldn’t about the crying. That feels cruel.

  Cassie:What about if he cried every time?

  Anna:Then I would tell a trusted friend and ask if they could guide me on it. Maybe it’s just part of his release. Who knows, maybe he would make me cry more. That’s one of my goals this year. People talk about what a good release crying is, and it’s really hard for me to let myself go to that place.

  You are dating a guy who is over thirty and you find out he’s never been in a long-term relationship. Deal breaker?

  Anna:Well, I’m going to ask him why. If we’re at that place where we’re talking about previous relationships, I’d probably say, “Do you mind my asking why? Is it because you don’t want one? Have you moved a lot?”

  Cassie:“No, I really want one.”

  Anna:“Do you date all similar types of people?”

  Cassie:“No, I’ve dated all types of people; I can just tell quickly if we don’t click.”

  Anna:“Really? How can you tell?”

  Cassie:“It’s an energy thing. Sometimes you just don’t click. Like you don’t have the same movie interests . . .”

  Anna:This is a deal breaker. He seems way too critical. This is why I wonder a lot about online dating where you do things like profile matches. Because, on the page, Chris and I are extremely different. He likes to watch sports and hunt, and my hobbies are hiking and reading. He likes country music, I like indie. But those are such superficial things and don’t represent the bigger picture. It seems like this guy is looking for excuses to say the relationship won’t work. I remember talking to a woman in LA who was single and attractive and in her late thirties, and she said that a guy on a date ate off her plate and she was like, “I could never.” I felt like that was a really high bar. Even if something l
ike that irks you, it shouldn’t be your takeaway. After talking to this guy, I’d feel like I was under a microscope. What if I did something wrong? Like my tube socks—I wear tube socks. Maybe those are a big no-no for him. And during sex I would be especially nervous. It would make my head spin a little bit.

  The guy you’re dating tells you that when he gets married he wants to take his wife’s last name. Deal breaker?

  Anna:Does he hate his name?

  Cassie:No, he just likes the idea of honoring his wife’s roots. It’s really important to him.

  Anna:That’s cool. It feels a little grandiose, though. Like, thank you? Seems a bit like him volunteering to get my name tattooed on his arm. I don’t need that. It’s not a deal breaker, but it’s mildly amusing, I guess. I would wonder what else would sprout out of this. Where would this desire manifest itself in other parts of his life? It would be a deal breaker at this point in my life if a guy insisted I take his name. But I think the problem with this guy is that he might be too serious for me. It seems like he is trying to prove something, like, Look how progressive I am. I don’t have the energy for that. I might have in college, but not now. It also might indicate that he doesn’t have the best sense of humor. I need a guy I can laugh with.

  During your first time having sex, the guy you just started dating turns on the TV and tells you he can only climax while watching The Golden Girls, in particular scenes with Bea Arthur. Deal breaker?