Unqualified

by Anna Faris

  The call made me sad for a number of reasons, mostly because I know that so many women deal with that kind of pressure every day. For me, it’s the question of a second kid. I get it mostly from the press. I’m an easy red-carpet target if I’m out with my family. It’s so obvious for a journalist to say, “I saw the cutest Instagram of you with your son, Jack; are you going to have another?” Part of me wants to just say, “Please fuck off,” but I try to be straightforward in those conversations. So I just say, “I would love to have more kids,” and if I’m feeling saucy I’ll say, “but I’m getting up there!” just to make myself laugh, and because it makes people uncomfortable once you bring age into it. That’s when then they realize that, Oh, maybe I’ve intruded too much.

  There’s no question that women are strapped to a timeline, and one that is largely dictated by outside forces. The silver lining, if you really look for it, is that “the timeline” can make you even more career-driven and focused, cultivating an eye-on-the-prize mentality that was a benefit to me. But the downside is that when you’re with your boyfriend of seven years, people are like, “When are you going to put a ring on it???”

  First of all, it’s weird to call someone an “it.” But also, maybe you don’t want to get married. Or maybe you’re not in a rush.

  I’ve gotten better at tuning out the noise as I’ve gotten older, but I’ve definitely been guilty of falling victim to “the timeline.” In my twenties, I demanded a timeline from everything in my life. It helped me hustle around this town and get work, but it also led me to a marriage that I shouldn’t have been in. It’s so odd that men don’t have that same pressure. Or maybe some do, but for them it’s probably more career-based. But the stoner dudes I grew up with in Seattle? Our conversations were like:

  Me: Are you going to class?

  Stoner Dude: I don’t know.

  Me: It’s starting right now.

  Stoner Dude: Yeah . . . I don’t know.

  Me, internally: Make up your mind already! I can’t deal with your indecision.

  The major fear with “the timeline,” and the outside pressure to conform to it, is that you could end up warping yourself and conforming to another person’s agenda. Then you’ll inevitably feel frustrated when you aren’t getting what you truly want.

  Imagine if every other day different people asked you: “When are you going to Madagascar? When are you going to Madagascar? But seriously, have you decided when you’re going to Madagascar? So wait, when? When are you going to go?”

  Suddenly you’re like, “I didn’t even know I wanted to, but . . . maybe I do. Yeah, I guess pretty soon. I’m going on the trip of my dreams. I’m saving up for Madagascar!”

  So we need to maintain perspective, but I don’t think there’s an easy way to tune out the noise. If someone asks you, “Soooo, what are you thinking about kids?” You could always pull a highbrow cultural analysis, saying, “Have you ever thought about how there seems to be a timeline for women that doesn’t exist for men? Why do you think that is?” You know, make people uncomfortable with your clever sociological conundrums. But the truth is that I don’t think there’s a snappy answer for those intrusive questions, and it’s a fruitless effort to try and stop them entirely. You can’t change other people, and it’s so ingrained in our culture that calling them out will only make you both uncomfortable. So I think the answer is just having people in your life that you trust, and having friends who love and support you—ones you can talk to about this stuff, because having a dialogue helps relieve the pressure.

  Or you can self-deflect like I do and just say, “I know! I’m getting old! Maybe my vagina’s just not tight enough anymore to hold a baby.”

  Friday, January 6, 2017

  8:07 A.M.: Woke up with a jolt because I forgot to set my alarm and Jack has to get to school and he’s still asleep. Normally, he crawls into bed with me around four, so I get up and drink tea while he snoozes in my bed. Today I get him up, and he groans and then responds to my nudges with a toot in my face. Not sure when Jack’s breath and flatulence started smelling like a grown-up’s but we’ve crossed that bridge. (Chris snuck out early to work out and head to a day of meetings, so I don’t see him.)

  8:30: Jack’s nanny took him to school since I was running late. I’m not a breakfast person—I’ll eat some cereal sometimes, but I really don’t care for breakfast food. I would have a turkey sandwich or a burger for breakfast every day if I could. On show days—we tape Mom on Friday evenings—I get amped and the nervous energy kind of kills my appetite. Usually I’m a late-night eater. When Chris is gone I’ll watch Netflix in bed and eat a giant bowl of pasta with oil and cheese, which I love. When he’s here, I get a little embarrassed chomping down on an entire meal at ten thirty.

  9:56: Just took an “exercise” walk around the neighborhood, which I haven’t done in a long time. I wore a cute workout outfit, so it looked like I was really working out but instead of making it the full four miles I called it at a half mile.

  10:03: I should be looking at my script and calling my dad and my manager and showering but I’m watching old episodes of Louie. Man, it’s good.

  10:20: I take quick showers but I love my getting-ready time—especially drying my hair, because that’s when I read the newspaper. I’ve got extensions (a lovely perk of having a child is thinning hair), which take a long time to dry, so on really busy days this feels like my only quiet personal time.

  10:56: Headed to Warner Bros., stage 20. It’s still a thrill to be able to park on the lot instead of walking on holding pages for an audition.

  11:10: Arrive at work for show-taping day. We tape in front of a live studio audience, which is fun but adds an element of nerves to taping days. (I don’t really know how to take a selfie, but here I am wearing a down jacket because in LA people do that when it’s sixty-two degrees.)

  I’m scared. I’m always scared.

  11:15: Allison is here early, too! Always love seeing her. We get our coffee and gossip instead of rehearsing our lines like we should.

  12:05: Our sweet but very anxious PA is pacing back and forth, which is making me crazy.

  12:31: About to start camera blocking for the show. I give myself a solid B for knowing my lines. But I’ve still got a few hours before we tape.

  1:10: Bathroom break. Not that exciting.

  1:16: Allison is taking a bathroom break now. She says she won’t share any details.

  2:50: In the middle of a run-through with the producers. It’s superstressful because it’s our final rehearsal, but I have a scene off, so I’m writing this. Also, my hair is green, so I have to go get it dechlorinated during my break. (Bleach blondes will understand.)

  3:05: Finished run-through with producers and writers. It’s a nervous time for everyone, but it was successful. I didn’t fuck up once!

  3:15: Headed to hair and makeup to get patched up.

  4:00: It’s our dinner break and I’ve got a fried chicken salad but I’m too anxious to eat much, even though it’s delicious. I’ve done enough tapings at this point that you’d think it would be second nature, but I still get nervous every week.

  5:36: Chris and Jack are here! It’s the first time Jack has come to a live taping—he’s most interested in the coconut cake on the craft service table. It’s hard to get him to be polite to my coworkers but he’s doing his best.

  6:00: The actors huddle in hair and makeup with the script supervisor and do the whole show as fast as we can without our script. Depending on people’s levels of preparedness, sometimes it’s rocky and sometimes it’s ten minutes. It’s never longer than a half hour, then they hustle us straight to our intros to the live studio audience. The announcer calls our names and we run out and say hello to the crowd, who is usually really welcoming. That helps establish the energy, but it’s also when the anxiety of the show starts to hit.

 
6:30: Start taping! I always say doing TV, especially a multi-cam sitcom like Mom, is like doing a really fun version of the SATs. It requires a different kind of mental concentration. You only get two shots, because we only really do two takes for each scene. It’s somewhere between improv, which is only one shot but tedious in its own way, and a single-cam show, like Parks and Rec, in which they do ten to twenty takes.

  9:30: We used to have big parties with the cast and crew in my dressing room after each taping, but I think now that we’re in season four we’ve all sort of grown out of that. Tonight I’m too tired after the taping to hang out, so I head home. Chris and Jack went home about halfway through, and Jack is already asleep when I get back.

  10:00: Every Friday night I get the script for the show we’ll start working on next week, which feels completely overwhelming but also exciting. I usually stay up late on Fridays to see what’s coming up and to get ready for the process to start all over again with Monday’s table read. We have rehearsals on Tuesday and Wednesday, and on Thursday we do preshoots—scenes that take place outside or are especially emotional or difficult to tape in front of a live audience. Mondays and Tuesdays I come home and go straight to podcasting, which is wonderful but of course means I can’t exercise or take Jack to the park or do anything for myself. It’s a passion project but also time-consuming.

  11:00: I usually go to bed pretty early—Fridays are my late night. It takes me a minute to mentally wind down, so I wash my face and watch Real Housewives and basically zone out until I crash.

  She Said, He Said: What It’s Like to Be a Couple in Hollywood

  Chris and I have been working actors for as long as we’ve known each other. We’ve shared the spotlight plenty, and there have been times when one of us stepped aside to let the other one have their moment. It’s probably not unlike what happens in most relationships, just on a more public scale. We talked about navigating Hollywood as a couple.

  Anna:I guess I was the more well-known of us when we first met, though I’ve never really felt all that famous. But when we first started dating, you were not quite as successful as you are now. I knew you would be, though. I was taken by your talent immediately, because I’d never worked with anyone as good as you. The only other person who struck me like that was Ryan Reynolds—when we did our scenes together in Just Friends or Waiting . . . , I would think, He’s making me rise to the challenge. But you and I were playing boyfriend and girlfriend, so it was a romantic scenario on-screen and, obviously, eventually off-screen, too. In Take Me Home Tonight there was that scene where we were supposed to kiss, and you suggested that I leap up onto you and straddle my legs around you and I did it—and I’m really self-conscious about that sort of thing—and you slapped my ass a bit. I was so struck by your confidence. I couldn’t believe you just went for it like that. It was totally appropriate, because we were playing characters at a high school party who had been together for a couple of years, but you were taking control of the scene in a way that I completely admired. I also found it terrifying. I was mystified by you. So, the point is, you weren’t a household name yet, but I knew it was coming.

  Chris:Well, thank you. I remember there was a moment a while back when a friend of mine who worked in social media put my name into something that was like a “star meter” and it said the most famous I’d ever been at that point was when I got engaged to you. Our engagement made my star meter go up, or something, and I remember him laughing and thinking that was so funny. And it did make me feel a little weird, if I’m being honest. At that point, the most fame I’d ever seen was when I did the fourth season of The O.C. I’d managed to be a working actor but I didn’t have any notoriety or real recognition from it. I was early on in my career at that point, and mine began totally differently than yours did. You crushed it right away and hit it big right out of the gate. I didn’t have that. And there were definitely moments when I felt like Jason Segel’s character in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, like the boyfriend who held the purse on the sidelines and people didn’t really see me. Not that you ever made me feel like that, it was the people you introduced me to. Actors would have their hands all over you and call you babe and you would say, “This is my boyfriend, Chris,” and I’d get a quick head nod and then they’d turn back to you. But that’s the nature of Hollywood, to be honest. Relationships here have an element of mutual benefits to them, so even in social interactions there is that question of “How can this person help me?” In that sense, people gravitated more toward you because you meant more to their dreams. You were a star.

  What’s funny is that more than being annoyed about that treatment, I just kind of felt like they weren’t in on it yet. I’ve always been weirdly overconfident, so I thought, Okay, that’s cool. There’s going to be a day when I’ve had more success and I’m going to remember these moments and these people.

  Anna:That’s how I felt when I first met you. Like I was in on something. I was proud of myself for that. Like, I finally have good taste in men, but also I knew I saw something that everyone else would, too, and it was just a matter of time. I give myself a lot of credit for seeing it before everyone else did. Like that opening scene of Guardians of the Galaxy, when you are dancing with so much joy? I saw that and thought, Oh my God, that is so fucking cool and fearless.

  Chris:But I saw your star continue to rise after we got together, too. It wasn’t like you were some has-been. You had done Scary Movie, but not The House Bunny, so watching that happen was great. You were pitching it all over town, not just to star in it but to produce it. I couldn’t believe it when it happened. It was so cool to watch somebody take an idea and find a partner and go out on the town and get something made. I’d only heard about that, never actually seen it, so to watch it firsthand—I was so impressed.

  I get questions from journalists a lot asking how we deal with each other’s success. People are curious. It’s a natural instinct to assume that the competitive nature of what we do would translate to resentment of each other’s careers and even resentment in our lives together, but the good news is that—and I guess I can only speak for myself—but I think we both have pretty impenetrable egos.

  Anna:I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have the career that I used to, and I do have moments of insecurity about that. I’m so thrilled and grateful that you are doing the things you are, and I have crazy pride in the fact that your talents are recognized, but it can be hard not to have a moment of self-doubt when my husband is acting with young women in big movies and I’m playing a role in Mom that, while I love it, is incredibly unsexy.

  Chris:I felt that way when I auditioned for What’s Your Number?. I really wanted to play the role Andy Samberg was cast in and instead I got Disgusting Donald. And I tested for the Chris Evans role! But the truth is, in the grand scheme of things, you might feel that self-doubt in this exact moment, but it’s going to be a blink of the eye and this will all be over. That’s why it’s important for both of us to keep our feet on the ground, because this is all going to go away one day, and the torch will be passed. If we’re lucky we get one second of success, and some people get two or three, but it all comes crashing to a halt eventually, because fame and notoriety—it’s all fake. You have to keep your eye on the prize, because it’s all an illusion.

  Anna:Of course that’s true, and that’s very rational of you. And I am really happy to celebrate your celebrity. Like when we’re in a restaurant, and someone asks to take a picture with you and hands me the camera, mostly I love it. The arrogant part of me thinks, I found somebody who I saw complete potential in and I’m so proud of him and proud of myself for knowing before everyone else—see how I make it about me?—and the vain part of me is happy not to be in anyone’s Facebook photo when I’m in my sweats and no makeup. And the good-person part of me thinks it’s nice to be able to make a fan’s day with a quick photo. But truth be told, it’s not like I don’t walk away with, say, 4 percent of
a sting. It’s not much at all, but I wouldn’t want the dear readers of this book to think I’m immune to it when, after the fact, the people in the picture are like, “Oh! We like you too! . . . But we don’t really want your photo.” It would be dishonest to pretend that no part of me has a moment of questioning myself—“Does this mean I’m irrelevant?”—even though I really would much rather take the photo than be in it. That doesn’t mean I feel any resentment toward you. I don’t. I’ve gotten such joy in watching your crazy ascension to stardom, and mostly I get a kick out of it. I don’t know. It’s a great industry to be in for a number of reasons but it also really messes with your head sometimes.

  Chris:Well, the photo thing is just weird, and we’ve both had that. You’re kind of damned if you do and damned if you don’t, especially when we’re together. If you assume that someone wants you in the photo, you’re weird and kind of full of yourself. If you assume they don’t, you run the risk of them saying, “Get in!” which can also be awkward. The only right way to deal with it is to be patient and polite and do what you can to smile and be grateful and then keep moving.

  Anna:I like to think that plenty of couples deal with these same issues, don’t you think? Not the picture-taking, necessarily, but there are always moments when one half of the couple has the spotlight a little more than the other. Whether it’s career success or a personal achievement, there have to be moments when it might take a little bit of checking your ego to let the other person have their glory, and not say, “What about me?”