Living Out Loud

Last week a guy I work with approached me on set and told me he’s been thinking of matching me up with his friend. “What’s your type?” he asked.

My mind went blank.

“I… huh. I’m not sure,” I faltered. “I don’t really have a type. I mean, everyone has a type but I’m, I dunno… chemistry driven? It’s a personality thing. Like, it’s… well… definitely someone creative. But not angst-y. And funny! But not funny like he’s insecure and needs attention. Wry. I like quiet guys... Introspective. But he can’t take himself too seriously. I have three brothers, you know? He has to make fun of me. But not in a mean way! Someone nice. Someone who’ll bring me flowers and then throw me in the pool. Does that make sense? But I mean, none of this is a deal breaker. I'm open to whatever. Someone who loves his mother - that's really what it comes down to, right?”

He blinked at me and pressed his headset to his ear. “They’re calling me to camera,” he fibbed as he jogged off.

I deserved that.

If I’m not comfortable identifying the partner I want then how on earth can I expect to meet him? And make no mistake, this is a comfort issue – I know exactly the kind of person I’m attracted to, I just can’t say it out loud because of the neurotic playlist that paralyzes me every time I’m put on the spot. “I don’t want to sound demanding. I don’t want to be the girl who’s too picky. Best to be vague, to be general, to not sound exclusive. What if I say his/ her friend isn’t my type and I hurt their feelings? Don’t be too specific. You are single, after all, and beggars can’t be choosers. And what is a ‘type’, anyway? Be grateful someone wants to set you up and thinks you’re worthy of their friend. Don’t be selfish.”

And on and on.

The scary thing is that this is not limited to my love life. The more I reflected on it the clearer it became that this same damaging monologue loops when someone asks me what I do for a living. “Don’t say acting – no one takes that seriously. Don’t say you’re a writer – it can come across as pretentious. Don’t say anything about comedy - people might think you’re high maintenance…” I’ve now invested nearly a decade of energy into judging all the good things I want for myself so it should come as no surprise that the net gain is disappointment and frustration. What a way to go through life! It’s completely absurd when you think about it. What kind of business class teaches, “The cornerstone of a flourishing company is total concealment of your goals so as not to come across as selfish”. When was the last time that Forbes evaluated the nation’s most accomplished women and determined, “The common denominator of their success is that they embrace any opportunity, whether or not it aligns with their interests, so that their colleagues don’t find them picky!”

Ludicrous. And it stops here. Today I ask for what I want.

I want an artistic guy who enjoys laughing and being barefoot to love me and play with my hair and go on road trips with me. I want to write scripts from my pajamas. I want to bring my dog to work. I want to make enough money to take my family on vacation. I want to make enough money to adopt children. I want to start singing again, for no other reason than pure enjoyment. I want a yard with a barbeque grill. Better yet, I want a farm with horses. I want to drink good wine. I want to solve a Rubik’s cube. I want to swim more and read more and play the piano more.  I want to clean less. I want to travel by boat whenever possible. I want to take a business meeting from court-side seats at the Lakers. I want to have my own non-profit. I want to play Patricia Clarkson’s daughter on a Jason Katims show. I want to write a book and turn it into an Emmy award winning Comedy Central series. I want to take ballet. I want to have a signature pie recipe.

There. I said it. I’m not gonna lie, it feels very unnatural and I’m fighting the urge to explain-away everything I just wrote but other than that it’s rather liberating. Try it! What do you want?