Unqualified

by Anna Faris

  Chris:Yeah, but I think you just focus on what you can control. Keep working hard. Things change in an instant—in our industry, you can look at people who just a few years ago were everywhere, and now that’s not the case. So I think for any couple, you just have to remember that the only thing inevitable is change and all you can do is not compare yourself to anybody else. Focus on everything in your control to make that change be something that is moving toward making you better. We’re in show business, so for us it’s our career or our ability as actors, but for other people it might be something else. But change is coming, so how do you make it a good change? It’s all about how you feel about something. If it’s good, enjoy the good because you know it could go away any minute, and if it’s bad, celebrate the fact that that’s going away soon, too.

  Unqualified Advice: I Don’t Know What I’m Talking About, but Here’s Some Other Free (Or Only the Cost of This Book) Unqualified Advice

  I seem to have thoughts on everything (dating-related or not, really), so I wanted to gather a few more bits of advice here. These don’t warrant their own chapter, I don’t think, but think of it like my little compendium of unqualified theories.

  ON SNOOPING

  All signs point to me being a snoop. I’m a curious person who wants to hear other people’s stories and problems and life plans. But one thing I’ve learned from friends who have dealt with it is that snooping is always the worst idea. Not a bad idea. The worst idea.

  I must have had some inkling of this even as a child. You know how some kids rifle through the usual hiding spots to get an early glimpse of their Christmas gifts? That wasn’t me. I knew where my mom kept the presents, but I never looked. I don’t think I ever really dug much into my parents’ things at all. (Note to self: send this chapter to Mom.)

  That’s not to say I’m necessarily respectful of people’s privacy, I just want to hear their business from their own mouths.

  I bring this up because so many of the calls into our podcast start with “I know I shouldn’t have, but I peeked at his text messages . . .” or “My friend looked through her husband’s emails. . . .” So this is my public service announcement: just don’t do it.

  I get why it’s enticing. Especially now, in a world where there are so many places where you can snoop. When I was a kid, we didn’t have Facebook or email or text messages. You couldn’t log into someone’s secret Tinder account or check their call log. You could only listen in on landline phone conversations or read someone’s letters. It wasn’t like it is today, where as soon as you earn enough trust that someone tells you their password, you can use that against them.

  Here’s the thing about snooping: it can only lead you to bad places. Either you find out something you don’t want to know, or you find out something exciting—he bought a ring!—and then you’ve ruined the surprise. There’s no good outcome. If you think your boyfriend is cheating on you, for example, not finding an email to another girl isn’t going to convince you he’s faithful. It’ll probably just convince you he has a secret email account. Like I said, no good outcome.

  When Chris and I first moved in together, I didn’t even want to go through his pockets when I was doing his laundry. Not that I suspected him of anything, I just knew that the curiosity could lead me down a path I didn’t want to travel. What if some girl at the gym gave him her number and he threw it in his pocket to be polite? I’d probably think he was cheating on me. So I made a policy that I just don’t look.

  Here’s the other thing about snooping: as soon as you get found out, you’ve lost most of your power in the relationship, whether it’s a romantic one or a friendship or family. And if you’re in a girlfriend-boyfriend situation, that will always hang over you. It will be ammo the other person will use against you, should it come to that.

  Protect yourself. Don’t snoop. And when Christmas comes, find a better hiding place.

  THE SIXTY-FORTY RULE

  People say that relationships should be an equal partnership. But it’s rare that a relationship is ever actually fifty-fifty, even a friendship. A healthy balance, I think, is more like sixty-forty. There’s always going to be someone who needs something different from what you need, sometimes more, sometimes less. You probably won’t ever both give and get the same amount.

  The good news, as I see it, is that the sixty-forty fluctuates. Sometimes you’re the sixty; other times you’re the forty. But you need to always feel one of two ways: either (1) I think I’m giving more than I’m getting right now, but just a little bit more, and what I’m getting still makes me feel really good. Or (2) I know I’m asking for a lot right now, and I don’t have time to give of myself in the same way, but that will change soon and I’ll step up.

  The important thing to remember is that there’s no end to any of it. There’s no I did my part, I’ll take it easy now.

  While it’s normal for relationships to stray from fifty-fifty, they really should stay at sixty-forty. If yours goes to seventy-thirty or eighty-twenty, it’s potentially doomed. That’s the relationship orange alert. (The different colors of terror threats are basically impossible to remember. Orange is the “high” alert, FYI. I know that because I just googled it. Red is “severe.” What are we supposed to do when we get a red alert? I don’t see how knowing we’re on severe terror alert is helpful other than inspiring widespread panic. I guess that’s why I don’t work in national security.)

  We talk to a lot of people on the podcast who have veered into seventy-thirty territory. They admit that they’re unhappy the majority of the time, and they blame themselves for it. I always think that maybe those people should take a closer look at their relationship and why they’re feeling such a high level of inequality. If you’re doing all of the childcare and the housework and holding a job, but the other person makes you feel good, then great. That’s awesome. But if you’re doing all that, and you get nothing in return—no help, and also no good feelings—then that relationship probably won’t, and shouldn’t, last.

  SPOTTING A CHEAT

  Here’s a line I’ve heard three times from three different guys: “I just want to tell you, something happened last night. Amanda/Sarah/Brandi/Whoever tried to kiss me. I told her no, I’m in a relationship, but I just thought you should know.”

  Translation: “I fucked Amanda/Sarah/Brandi/Whoever.”

  At least, that’s my theory.

  “She tried to kiss me” is a preemptive manipulation tactic to get ahead of any rumors that might start swirling. It’s a perfect way for the cheating guy to divert attention away from himself and pit woman against woman instead. It’s a strategy that’s not unrelated to all the terminology we use to set up women as villains: mistress, home-wrecker, gold digger. (See: Teen Mom, Teen Mom 2, and so on. I love these shows. My mom is appalled by them and by the fact that I watch them, but they really are the best birth control.)

  It’s easy to believe the “she tried to kiss me” line, if you want to. I know, because I’ve been in the position of believing ridiculous stories when it was easier than facing the truth. Take the summer before college, when I was hanging out in a car, getting stoned with Chad Burke and some other kids, when this gal named Sarah said, “Ugh, I did not sleep at all last night because I was mashed up against Chad’s wall.” We were all so high that I don’t think she realized what she said until the long awkward silence that followed. Suddenly she looked at me with wide eyes that screamed, What the fuck did I just say? I broke out of my stoner brain just long enough to think, Great, everyone knew that Chad is screwing Sarah except me? But I never confronted him about it. I didn’t want to feel like a fool, and I remember sort of wanting to believe that maybe she just didn’t have a place to sleep. I didn’t want to accept that he was cheating because I didn’t want to deal with what that meant, which was that I’d probably have to break up with him. In cheating scenarios, you have to weigh the punishment to yourself against the punishment
to the other person, and I didn’t want to deal with what I’d be doing to myself—ending the relationship with a shitty guy who I had some kind of cult worship for.

  There have been other times when I’ve believed the “she tried to kiss me” line because, again, it seemed easier to believe a lie than to act on the truth. But the reality is that while there are aggressive women, how many women do you know who actually try to kiss a guy out of nowhere? Especially one they know is in a relationship? Oh, you found yourself alone outside, smoking a cigarette, and she lunged at you out of nowhere and you said, “I’m sorry, I could never betray my girlfriend”? And then you thought you should tell me because it was just the right thing to do? I call bullshit. You should, too.

  GO TO BED ANGRY

  This was the best piece of relationship advice my brother ever gave me. He was going through a tough breakup a long time ago, and he’d been with someone whose relationship mantra was to never go to bed angry. While that relationship was ending he said to me, “Anna, just go to bed angry. It’s fine.” And he was so right.

  In general, I think women like quick resolutions and for a fight to be over as soon as possible. It’s never comfortable to go to bed with an unsettled feeling or with disagreements unresolved. But men, in my experience, need to work off their testosterone, maybe with a hard workout or a night of sleep. Trying to negotiate a fight quickly does not always benefit both parties, and rushing through an issue is not always the best solution.

  That’s not to say I don’t believe in talking things out, but you need to wait until a little time has passed. In the moment, there is too much irrationality, and that’s when the really damaging things are said that cannot be taken back. So give each other a little space and go to sleep, even if you’re pissed off. Let time do some of the healing.

  This Is the Chapter That Will Make You Vomit

  I’ve been witness to romantic gestures big and small all my life. My dad is a romantic guy, and he and my mom were never shy about putting their love on display. My brother, Bob—same thing. And I wouldn’t be honoring my relationship with Chris if I didn’t acknowledge that he was great at grand gestures but also stellar at the tiny ones. And I think both can have equal impact. I decided to list my most favorite of these gestures—those I’ve received and those I’ve seen exchanged between people I love—all in one place; so you can just skip this chapter altogether if it makes you want to puke. But before you do, let me give you one caveat: While I’m conscious of the fact that this kind of sentimentality might be rare, I think every man has his own way of showing love. So while your partner may not display his affection by doing your hair, make a point to notice whatever it is he does that makes you feel special.

  1. BRAIDING HAIR

  My mom loves to French braid my hair. It’s a weird thing she does even now that I’m an adult. But she always starts a little too high and I end up looking like a sister wife. Three or four years ago, Chris was watching her do a French braid and wanted to learn. He already knew how to do a regular braid because his sister taught him when they were kids, and he’s into knots in general, from being an outdoorsy guy. I know it’s weird for someone to be “into” knots, but, for example, he loved it when I had a tangled piece of jewelry. I don’t have the patience for detangling necklaces, but Chris finds it satisfying, or meditative, I guess. He also loves doing a Rubik’s Cube, which is not the same at all but somehow seems related. So anyway, he started giving me French braids. We’d be in bed at night watching football and he’d say, “Let me braid your hair,” and I would sit between his legs and let him do my hair. He was always the instigator. It happened less as I got older because I’ve had a lot of hair issues and I have extensions so it’s harder and less satisfying and I have weird lumps in my scalp, but I still got braids from time to time. Just check Chris’s Instagram, where he bragged that “real men braid.”

  He cuts Jack’s hair, too. They play barber together. Chris is a great caretaker in general, but especially when it comes to hair.

  2. SPEAKING OF HAIR . . .

  My mom has cut my dad’s hair since he was in the army, in 1970. Doing an army cut was easy, but she’s kept up with it since, through plenty of hairstyles. My dad sits in the kitchen in his underwear, and she carefully cuts what remains of his hair, and it’s oddly intimate and romantic. Then she sweeps up the floor while he showers and shampoos.

  It’s funny, because I also remember wandering into the kitchen as a kid every three weeks and smelling bleach, because my father would be bleaching my mother’s hair at the kitchen counter. What is it about hair?

  My parents have always been very adoring toward each other, with tons of pet names—precious angel, dreamboat, Mrs. Drewbowski (I have no idea where that came from), darling pies—and my dad constantly telling my mom how beautiful she is. She gets embarrassed by it, but it’s a wonderful gesture, and one I was lucky to grow up around.

  3. POEMS, LETTERS, AND OTHER HANDWRITTEN NOTES

  Chris wrote me poems and sent me letters from wherever he was in the world, on hotel stationery. So I’d get a letter from a gorgeous hotel in Moscow, or Paris, or wherever work took him, though he was usually home by the time they arrived. They were like old-timey war letters that said things like, “Honey, I’m dreaming of the day I get to hold you again.” For such a dude, he’s really thoughtful.

  He’s also a really good artist, and drew me pictures on our mirror. About a year and a half ago, he drew a picture of himself on our bathroom mirror with a love note, and the picture looked remarkably like him. He also wrote me a long poem once that was framed in our home.

  Do you want to throw up yet?

  4. BIG RISKS

  My brother, Bob, is a believer that real romance lies in big moves—ones that are risky, costly, and could easily backfire but that leave you transformed either way. When he and my sister-in-law were dating, he decided to surprise her with a trip to Oahu during what he describes as a “rocky period” in their relationship. I know that whisking someone away to Hawaii sounds foolproof on the surface, but they were already going through a rough patch, so this was the kind of trip that could make or break them. Bob mistakenly booked what turned out to be a shitty hotel on Waikiki Beach—think wilted microwave sausages and freeze-dried eggs served on Styrofoam plates. Not the romantic healing getaway he was hoping for. It was turning into one of those risks that didn’t pay off, until Bob was able to convince the hotel he had a “family emergency,” get a refund on their prepaid stay, and transfer to a beautiful, romantic hotel. They had a magical four days driving around the island, picnicking and swimming on secluded beaches. Now they’re married with a beautiful baby girl. I’ve always been touched by that story, because that kind of big bet is scary when it comes to relationships. He put it all on the line, and I’m so glad it paid off.

  5. FLOWERS

  Every Friday before Mom tapings, Chris sent me a giant bouquet of flowers at the studio. I’ll admit that sometimes I felt almost embarrassed, not because I wanted to hide them, but I didn’t want to always be the “look what I got!” girl who rubbed her romantic husband in her coworker’s faces. But yeah, a giant bouquet of flowers in my dressing room wasn’t bad.

  Don’t Call It Closure

  I started seeing a therapist after I began writing this book. I was raised thinking therapy was for the self-indulgent or mentally ill (I could be both); but reexamining my life and revisiting past loves and getting ready to publicize those experiences—all that has dug up a lot of shit, which shouldn’t come as too big of a surprise. I thought I was revealing my stories to help other people feel less alone, but instead it has inspired a hearty dose of introspection that I think has benefited me. At least, that’s what my new therapist, who’s very positive and friendly and knows everything about football and always tells me I’m “doing great,” says. (At her hourly rate, I have to believe her.)

  Though this book is largely about relationships, it has
forced me to examine so many different aspects of my life. Somehow this whole journey has made me want to do more—Broadway! Producing! It has stoked my ambitions in a way I never expected. I recently filmed a remake of Overboard, and while it may sound dramatic to say that it changed me, it really did. The work was incredibly difficult, but I was able to do all kinds of improv and I felt giddy the whole time. It was so creatively rewarding.

  Life is messy. I obviously don’t have all the answers. When I first started thinking about writing this book, I pictured myself sitting on my bed with a cup of coffee, all La la la la la, here’s something funny I thought about yesterday, is it funny to you? It became much more than that. In the end, I hope that it has made some people laugh and made other people feel like they’re not crazy, or at least that they’re just as crazy as I am so they know they’re not alone. So to all of you out there who dedicated time to reading this book . . . well, the phrase “I’m not worthy” is bouncing around in my head. It would be really fucked-up if it weren’t, though. If writing a book about yourself is completely natural and easy and you don’t have a moment where you wonder, Why would anyone care?, then you’ve drunk way too much of your own Kool-Aid.

  If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it’s that this book is called Unqualified. I don’t have everything figured out, and I don’t think I ever will. I couldn’t even conceive of the feeling of being qualified. Feeling unqualified is in my build. It’s hard-coded in my DNA. I’ll never not feel fear when I put myself out there, but that’s okay. I’ll keep doing things I have no right to do, because I don’t like wading in the shallow end. I’d rather get pushed into the deep end and then attempt to touch the bottom. That’s just how I operate.