me all worried over nothing.
Stephen asked me on a real date after that, and I really liked him. But . . . I was so excited to be single and not serious about anyone. I was living with my best friend in the world, going on auditions, and I felt strong. Why did I need a guy? The answer was . . . I didn’t! So I avoided Stephen for a bit. He kept calling to ask me out, and I would put him off, I was working so much and getting so close to my goals that I could taste it.
I also knew that I really liked Stephen. If I went on a date with him . . . I was pretty sure I would want to keep dating him. Was I even ready for that? I kept putting him off, but Stephen was so kind and persistent. He called and asked if he could take me to dinner. I checked my calendar. . . . I was free, so I agreed to go.
And then . . . my agent called. “Laura, the producers scheduled a last-minute table read tomorrow for a pilot.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yep. Eight a.m. I’m having a production assistant bring by a new script for you. You should be getting it . . . about now.”
KNOCK KNOCK. I opened the front door to see a nineteen-year-old boy with a large manila envelope in hand. Damn, my agent was good. “It’s here,” I said.
“Great. Study it, and I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re going to do great!”
Shit. I looked at the script. It was forty pages. I needed to study this so that I would do well tomorrow. Don’t forget, I know what happens when you don’t do well at the table read. They fire your ass and hire a fucking extra. Being that extra was awesome, but I’d rather not experience the other side of it. I called Stephen to cancel. I felt bad—I had already canceled on him twice. But this was important; this was my career.
“Hey Stephen, have you left yet?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way!”
Damn it. Okay, I wasn’t going to cancel on him if he was already on the way to pick me up. Traffic in LA is no joke. I thought quickly.
“Okay well, I can only stay out for one hour. I have to study for this table read I have in the morning. I hope you understand.”
“No problem, Laura! See you soon!”
Damn his good-natured flexibility. A few years later he confessed to me that he hadn’t actually left yet. He was standing in his kitchen during the call. He just knew I was going to cancel again so he lied. Sneaky, but also effective.
He took me to a sushi restaurant where they have a really good vegan roll. They sat us next to the bar, so the two vegans on a date got to watch fish get butchered while we ate. Then I spilled sauce all over the waitress. I was nervous! Not only was this a date, but I was so anxious about the table read. I think it was getting to me. I got kind of quiet.
“Are you all right?” Stephen asked me.
“I don’t feel great. Will you tell me some funny stories?”
So he did. He rattled off one about the single day he worked in a furniture store before getting fired, and one about a local convenience store he used to frequent in London where when he’d check out, the guy behind the counter would always, no matter what, ask if he wanted “anything else?” For some reason, Stephen and his friends were determined to get this guy to stop saying “anything else?” After every purchase. So the next time Stephen bought a banana, he said sternly, “I’ll get this banana and ABSOLUTELY NOTHING else.” There was a long stare-off between Stephen and the guy behind the counter. Then . . . “Anything else?” the guy behind the counter replied. He told me story after story, each more hilarious than the next. I was laughing my ass off, then I had a scary thought: Is he funnier than me? Oh shit, I’m supposed to be the funny one in my relationships. I was so worried about it that later on I called my mom, all butthurt. “Mom . . . I think he’s funnier than me.”
To which she replied, “Oh no, Laura, is he sweet and sensitive, too? How terrible for you.”
“I’m the funny one, Mom! I’m the funny one!”
She didn’t