Official Book Club Selection Part 12

I cal ed Joe Simpson, Jessica's dad, thinking, I'll get the lowdown, I'll get the lowdown, cause he produces that show! cause he produces that show!

He never got back to me. As if I needed any more proof of my show concept: When Joe Simpson is too big to return your cal , you know you're D-List.

No matter, though. I ran into Nick and Jessica at some benefit gig in Jamaica before we'd started shooting The D-List The D-List, and we had a conversation about what was in store for me.

"Okay, what boundaries did you set for your show?" I asked.

Jessica told me, "Wel , we don't let them shoot in our bathroom or our bedroom, because we have to have one place in the house that's completely private, where the cameras wil never go. So if we feel we've had it, the crew knows the minute we cross that threshold, they're gonna stop shooting."

Sounds good, I thought. I'll do that I'll do that.

That little rule went out the window immediately. If Matt and I were walking down the hal toward our bedroom and talking, and he's in the middle of a word as we cross into the bedroom, how was that gonna work? Wel , it wasn't. So what eventual y got inst.i.tuted was a policy of no restrictions or boundaries of any kind. Is that even a policy? Al I know is there were countless times when somebody walked in on me when I was peeing. Or I'd be in a room getting changed, and the crew guy taking lunch orders would walk in.

"Hey, Kathy, do you want the chow mein or ... Oh! Sorry!"

Yeah, that'd be my t.i.ts you're seeing ... again. Luckily I didn't have any dignity to begin with.

Truth be told, it was al incredibly experimental, since we didn't real y know what we were doing. The way that first season was story-boarded was, I handed over my online calendar of dentist appointments, stand-up gigs, auditions, Botox injections, awards shows, talk show appearances, and whatever else was going on, to the producers, and I'd say something like, "On this date, I'm hosting a hospital benefit at a ritzy hotel where Warren Beatty is getting an award. If that's not funny, I don't know what is." Then the producers would go try to clear the locations and get permission to shoot. If you've seen season one of my show, you'l remember that at that benefit event I ran out when Beatty was accepting his award so I could have a moment with him for the D- D- List List cameras. What you didn't know is how extremely D-list that gambit truly was: Beatty, who didn't know who the f.u.c.k I was, only agreed to be photographed or filmed for the event while onstage. That meant the only way to get him in any capacity was to b.u.m-rush him post-acceptance speech, before he reached the wings. He paused for a moment, shook my hand, and smiled, while I furiously said, "Blah blah holy s.h.i.t, tee hee, d.i.c.k joke, time's up." Or something to that effect. But hey, I got my three seconds shaking his hand! Now that's pretty D-list. cameras. What you didn't know is how extremely D-list that gambit truly was: Beatty, who didn't know who the f.u.c.k I was, only agreed to be photographed or filmed for the event while onstage. That meant the only way to get him in any capacity was to b.u.m-rush him post-acceptance speech, before he reached the wings. He paused for a moment, shook my hand, and smiled, while I furiously said, "Blah blah holy s.h.i.t, tee hee, d.i.c.k joke, time's up." Or something to that effect. But hey, I got my three seconds shaking his hand! Now that's pretty D-list.

It's a delicate balance, filming a reality show. The three of us-Matt, Jessica, and I-weren't used to having eight extra people around us al the time, and the crew-made up of people who had worked on bigger budget shows like The Apprentice, The Amazing Race The Apprentice, The Amazing Race , and , and Survivor Survivor - wasn't used to a house being anything but a set. They were more accustomed to having a catering area, a built set, and a room ful of monitors where producers are watching al the camera shots. A real show, in other words, not a f.u.c.ked-up ghetto camcorder operation like this. wasn't used to a house being anything but a set. They were more accustomed to having a catering area, a built set, and a room ful of monitors where producers are watching al the camera shots. A real show, in other words, not a f.u.c.ked-up ghetto camcorder operation like this.

Plus, there's something about the experience that I feel like a lot of reality people aren't entirely honest about. When I hear people from other shows say, "After the first day, I forgot the camera was there!" I don't know what they're talking about. I never forget. I mean, I got used to it, meaning the people and the equipment. But no matter how hard I tried not to say stuff that was too heinous, it didn't work. I'm not able to censor myself, anyway, but there were definitely many times when I'd say something on camera, and then five seconds later think, Aw s.h.i.t, I'm Aw s.h.i.t, I'm gonna regret that, the network's gonna love it, I'm not going to be able gonna regret that, the network's gonna love it, I'm not going to be able to get it cut, and then I'll be in a f.u.c.king fight with to get it cut, and then I'll be in a f.u.c.king fight with [insert trashed celebrity name here]. [insert trashed celebrity name here].

The experience of having cameras on you al the time increased my admiration for Howard Stern, since he's on the air at least four hours a day without a filter. He tel s a great story where Gayle King confronted him about something he'd said about her on the show, and his response was, "Do you think I can even remember what I said today today, much less four months ago?"

I completely identify with that. So if anyone is upset with me about what I say on the show, in my head I'm thinking, Okay, I understand, but Okay, I understand, but there were cameras there from 10 in the morning until 10 at night there were cameras there from 10 in the morning until 10 at night taping every word out of my mouth for five months. You're d.a.m.n right I taping every word out of my mouth for five months. You're d.a.m.n right I said some awful s.h.i.t, and I've said a lot worse than that, so relax, said some awful s.h.i.t, and I've said a lot worse than that, so relax, Sharon Stone Sharon Stone.

It was such a long haul, that first season, but one thing I believed early on that holds true to this day is that I should not be involved in the editing process. I knew I wouldn't be helpful in that capacity, and it wouldn't serve the show. What if I saw a shot of my cel ulite that I didn't want?

That kind of regular interference on my part would probably drive everyone nuts, so I knew it was better to let them come up with a rough cut that was maybe five minutes too long, and let them ask me what I real y hated. Then I could say, "Wel , this is a little boring" or whatever, and that would be the extent of it. I'd rather be involved fine-tuning the edits with regards to comedy rather than worry myself with matters of vanity. The key for me is that it's a comedy-driven show. It's not The The Real World Real World where I'm getting in and out of a hot tub with somebody. I wanted the show to be as funny as possible. where I'm getting in and out of a hot tub with somebody. I wanted the show to be as funny as possible.

I felt very fortunate in that I had a real y great combination of D-List D-List regulars around me, people who provided easygoing leverage against my desperate desire to be famous at any cost coupled with my talking s.h.i.t about celebrities. My a.s.sistant Jessica was this punk rock girl with blue hair and a real y great, dry sense of humor. Matt was, as my mom would say, very "go-along" in that he had a good att.i.tude about the s...o...b..z craziness. He got a kick out of celebrity, but wasn't overly dazzled by it. regulars around me, people who provided easygoing leverage against my desperate desire to be famous at any cost coupled with my talking s.h.i.t about celebrities. My a.s.sistant Jessica was this punk rock girl with blue hair and a real y great, dry sense of humor. Matt was, as my mom would say, very "go-along" in that he had a good att.i.tude about the s...o...b..z craziness. He got a kick out of celebrity, but wasn't overly dazzled by it.

Bottoms up, John and Maggie!

Then there were my parents, who I knew would be natural y funny. By this point my dad had done several national commercials. It started as a lark, real y. When my mom and dad first retired to California, Dad was one of those workaholic guys who ended up being real y bored with retirement. One day in the early '90s I brought him with me to my former commercial agency, Abrams Artists, and with my dad seated by my side, told one of the agents there that I thought John Patrick Griffin could do commercials. Wel , sure enough, he booked the first two auditions he went on. By contrast, I had to go on seventy f.u.c.king auditions before I booked my first commercial. That's right. Seventy. It was like he was Lindsay Lohan, and I was wannabe sister Ali. I'm I'm supposed to be Lindsay! It was so unfair. Anyway, he ended up doing several national and regional commercials, effortlessly displaying his charms, so I knew he'd be able to be himself on camera. To this day, my parents are the most low-maintenance people I've ever had on the show. You'd sit them down on the couch, hand them gla.s.ses of wine, and it's like flicking a switch. They're on. supposed to be Lindsay! It was so unfair. Anyway, he ended up doing several national and regional commercials, effortlessly displaying his charms, so I knew he'd be able to be himself on camera. To this day, my parents are the most low-maintenance people I've ever had on the show. You'd sit them down on the couch, hand them gla.s.ses of wine, and it's like flicking a switch. They're on.

As for me, I'm that comedian that other comedians-those who feel the need to be troubled offstage-rol their eyes at for being "on" al the time. But real y, the reason I'm on al the time is that I real y enjoy making people laugh offstage as much as on. It doesn't come from a place of need, or about a thirst to be loved every minute. It's about wanting to have fun, and who doesn't enjoy getting people to laugh? My metabolism is such that for me, there's not a huge difference between being onstage and offstage, or on camera and off camera. That made this my perfect job! I get to be funny going to the kitchen to make a sandwich? Sign me up!

The thing I never saw coming, however, was the strain shooting a reality show would put on my friendships, relationships, and family. It's been the most painful thing about doing the show, and real y the only negative aspect. You'd think having cameras on me al day would be the biggest minus, but the cameras just make me hyperaware of everything I say. That's just part of the job.

I guess what I was unprepared for was how people who weren't actors would react to being on camera. From the beginning I was always very honest about people in my orbit appearing in the show.

Let's say I wanted to shoot a game night or a TV-watching night with friends, since I had regular get-togethers for favorite shows like The The Amazing Race Amazing Race and and Project Runway Project Runway. Some friends were like, "We're not into it. We don't want to be on camera, so we'l see you on the nights you're not shooting." And I absolutely respected that. And for those who were up for it, I was honest about how this was a little ghetto show of six episodes, that I didn't know how it was going to pan out, if it was going to be a good thing or a bad thing, and I certainly didn't know if audiences were going to care or not.

But the camera does things to certain people. Friends and loved ones alike just turned out to act completely differently in its presence.

One guy kept pul ing the cameraman aside to a little room in my house to do bits like it was a confessional on America's Next Top Model America's Next Top Model.

Somebody else who was usual y very witty would just clam up. Another person who was normal y pretty mel ow would start talking in a funny voice. It was something I didn't see coming, and the editors in New York would start cal ing me about it. They remarked about one person, "He's s...o...b..ating so much it takes you out of the feeling like you're a fly on the wal ." One of the producers flew out from New York once to tel a couple of friends, "Look, you have to tone it down." Those were uncomfortable situations. It was real y tough and awkward. I was spoiled by Mom, Dad, Matt, and Jessica, who were themselves al the time, with or without the cameras.

Even more upsetting were the expectations people around me-who had been a part of filming-started having for the show. Friends or col eagues who had joined me for two scenes would say things like, "Wel I've emailed al my friends tel ing them I'm going to be on your show." I also heard others say, "I better get something out of this show."

You have to realize, I didn't even know if the show was going to do anything for me me, and my name was in the t.i.tle! I remember saying to everybody, "Look, I don't know who's going to make the cut and who's not. I don't know if I'm going to look like an a.s.shole on the show or not.

There is no guarantee. I have almost nothing to do with the editing process when they're a.s.sembling episodes. I'm not looking to make anybody a star here. So don't be mad at me if the show's not good or your scene ends up being cut." One person told me, "This is going to help me get dates." To which I thought, We shot for six months and you We shot for six months and you came over one afternoon. I don't know if that means you're going to came over one afternoon. I don't know if that means you're going to get discovered as a great lover get discovered as a great lover.

And those who hadn't been part of filming were suddenly looking at me like a potential employer. People who I casual y knew were now contacting me and openly saying, "I don't have a demo reel, can I get on your show?" Gay guys I would see once every three years were e-mailing me, hearing that I had gays on my show, and demanding to be on, acting like I'd screwed them over for excluding them.

After the show eventual y debuted on Bravo in 2005, the touchiness with my family started. When filming began on season one, my brother John was the only one who agreed to be on the show besides my parents. Joyce and Gary openly said, "We don't want to be on the show.

If you've got cameras, don't be coming around to my place." But once The D-List The D-List started airing, my mother was tel ing me that she was furious that the whole family wasn't featured, that they al should have had their own story lines. I had to remind her, "Mom, Joyce doesn't even like to be in stil photos with the family." Besides, the show wasn't about our family. started airing, my mother was tel ing me that she was furious that the whole family wasn't featured, that they al should have had their own story lines. I had to remind her, "Mom, Joyce doesn't even like to be in stil photos with the family." Besides, the show wasn't about our family.

It's the story of a D-list celebrity and the workings of show business from that perspective.

But that didn't seem to matter. Even intimate family members jokingly referred to themselves as The Forgotten Griffins.

Family pressures are what they are, of course. My kindhearted trainer Bobby succ.u.mbed to them after the first season aired. We were shooting something and he suddenly wasn't himself on camera, talking nonstop and being real y insulting. We stopped filming and I said, "Bobby, I have to be honest with you, you're not being yourself. The reason I have you on the show is because I'm this b.u.mbling person trying to get in shape and you're the sweet, encouraging guy who is supposed to be trying to help me."

"Wel , my parents saw me on the show," he said. "And they kept saying, 'Why aren't you being funny? Why aren't you being funny?' "

And this guy's a trainer who'd never thought about being on TV! I remember saying to him, "You'l get clients from people watching this show. But I want them to hire you because you're the nice guy I know.

People won't want a trainer who's making insulting quips to them on the treadmil ."

Bobby was very cool about it. But I actual y had fal ing-outs with friends over this kind of thing. It caught me completely off guard. I learned on the first season of The D-List The D-List, more than al my years of sitcom work, the power of fame.

What I hear time and time again from people when this topic comes up is, "Who are you kidding, Kathy? Everybody wants to be famous."

I used to say, "No, that's not true. I have a lot of friends who don't care about that."

Wel , I learned that I have a lot of friends who do do care about that. In a big way. But what they wanted was to be famous without doing any of the work that I had done: training, going to acting school, years of rejection, countless open mic nights, al that other stuff. care about that. In a big way. But what they wanted was to be famous without doing any of the work that I had done: training, going to acting school, years of rejection, countless open mic nights, al that other stuff.

Now, in a few instances, the strange al ure of the camera made for some funny moments at the expense of the people who were acting odd. You might remember from the show the scene with the freelance reporter for Star Star magazine who came to interview me at my house. magazine who came to interview me at my house.

She'd done no research, and she was trying to be funny the whole time, talking compulsively and saying real y bizarre things. How D-list is it to not be able to get a word in edgewise for my own interview? Wel , at the end she said, "Oh my G.o.d, I didn't turn on the tape recorder. Can we do it again?"

"Nope. I'm in the middle of a workday, sweetheart. Moving on."

By the way, she'd never have forgotten to turn that tape recorder on if she were interviewing Nicole Kidman. Or talked over Nicole's-or as I cal her, the human clothes hanger's-pearls of wisdom. On a side note, Nicole real y does wear clothes as beautiful y as a hanger does. Every designer's dream.

Anyway, that's the kind of situation that should be a reminder to everyone who thinks it's cool to be on the show. It doesn't always go your way. There are many, many times looking at myself on The D-List The D-List where I just cringe: horrible facial expressions, fake smiles, countless remarks that are way over the line as far as viciousness is concerned, among other things. But everyone wants their moment, I learned. I thought only obnoxious show people like myself wanted their moment. I didn't know the freakin' mailman was going to want it, too. where I just cringe: horrible facial expressions, fake smiles, countless remarks that are way over the line as far as viciousness is concerned, among other things. But everyone wants their moment, I learned. I thought only obnoxious show people like myself wanted their moment. I didn't know the freakin' mailman was going to want it, too.

It shouldn't have to be: "Just leave the mail! I don't want to want to hear the song you wrote! I want to read my letter! PUT THE MAIL DOWN! NICE hear the song you wrote! I want to read my letter! PUT THE MAIL DOWN! NICE AND EASY!"

Launching a new show is very different from doing season two of an existing show. I've gotten used to it now, but you should know that when you see me on talk shows trying to get you to watch the season premiere of any year of The D-List The D-List, I'm stil filming the season. What made doing press for that first season of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List D-List hard was that Bravo kept changing the premiere date. They didn't know what night to put it on because their hard was that Bravo kept changing the premiere date. They didn't know what night to put it on because their Queer Eye for the Straight Queer Eye for the Straight Guy Guy show was a big hit, show was a big hit, Project Runway Project Runway was also a big hit, and they weren't sure if ours was a comedy show, a reality show, or a hybrid, or something new. That would mean, first I'd tel the press it was "coming in June," then Bravo would change their mind and I'd have to say, "I mean Wednesdays in July!" And when it would change again, then it was was also a big hit, and they weren't sure if ours was a comedy show, a reality show, or a hybrid, or something new. That would mean, first I'd tel the press it was "coming in June," then Bravo would change their mind and I'd have to say, "I mean Wednesdays in July!" And when it would change again, then it was "Guess who's on the fal lineup?"

It was frustrating because I wanted the show to have a shot. I was real y proud of it. The biggest battle I consistently had with the network was over the advertising budget. Here was my wish list: bil board in Times Square, and on Sunset Boulevard; ads on bus benches across the country; ful -page ads in al the national weekly magazines; and commercials on NBC and al their affiliate channels. Plus, of course, my own line of dol s I could sel on shopping networks like Marie Osmond does. Okay, I didn't get the dol s. What did I get? Sharing a bil board with Queer Eye Queer Eye for thirty days on Sunset Boulevard, and a ful -page ad in for thirty days on Sunset Boulevard, and a ful -page ad in People People and and US Weekly US Weekly, which, by the way, they've never done since.

But even then I was like, "Is that al ?" When I had my HBO special, I had my own ma.s.sive bil board for nine months. By the way, being on a bil board is so cool that when it was up, I would drive seven miles out of my way just to look at it heading home.

The D-List final y aired in August 2005, and the ratings were terrible. I mean, I wasn't expecting final y aired in August 2005, and the ratings were terrible. I mean, I wasn't expecting Project Runway Project Runway numbers, but they weren't even a fraction of that. Why hadn't I had the foresight to just cast Heidi Klum as Kathy Griffin and be done with it? What's "Suck it" in German? numbers, but they weren't even a fraction of that. Why hadn't I had the foresight to just cast Heidi Klum as Kathy Griffin and be done with it? What's "Suck it" in German?

It was at this point I resigned myself to thinking this little experiment might be a one-season wonder after al .

Then the oddest thing happened. I started hearing from a lot of s...o...b..z people about The D-List The D-List. I ran into Everybody Loves Everybody Loves Raymond Raymond star Brad Garrett at a taping of star Brad Garrett at a taping of Hollywood Squares Hollywood Squares, and he said to me, "Oh, I love your show." Now, I think Brad is hilarious, and it was a nice thing for him to say, but I never took it seriously when celebrities complimented me on the show. I just thought they were being polite. My response when a famous person says "I love your show" is usual y "Prove it." Sometimes, if I'm feeling particularly gracious, it's "Bul s.h.i.t! PROVE IT, f.u.c.ker! You lying a.s.shole!"

I'm not saying I said those exact words to Brad, but he's a comedian and nine feet tal . He'd have been able to take it. But what do you know, he actual y rattled off some specific examples from the show, and I thought, Oh wow, he really does watch it Oh wow, he really does watch it. And then he said, "Everybody in Hol ywood watches that show."

"No," I said in disbelief.

He slowed down his words. "Everybody "Everybody in the industry is watching your show, Kathy, I'm tel ing you." in the industry is watching your show, Kathy, I'm tel ing you."

Now, I don't know if the s...o...b..z world was watching it just to see if they were going to be referenced (meaning "trashed") on it-I did do an entire episode around Renee Zel weger's chil ing revenge gift of a bouquet of roses-but as I ran into more people, I started to get the impression that the show's viewership numbers were smal but mighty.

People were real y invested in it. Lisa Kudrow pul ed me aside at an event during the airing of the first season of The D-List The D-List and said, "Hey, your show is fantastic! It real y captures the Kathy Griffin that I know." It felt like such a compliment when an old pal I hadn't seen in a while said that watching the show was like hanging out with me. and said, "Hey, your show is fantastic! It real y captures the Kathy Griffin that I know." It felt like such a compliment when an old pal I hadn't seen in a while said that watching the show was like hanging out with me.

What also meant a lot to me was hearing from my col eagues and peers how I was striking a blow for the portrayal of women on TV, that I was putting out a comedy series where a woman wasn't a housewife or a mom. I wasn't a typical forty-year-old female on television. And at the same time, The D-List The D-List was clueing everybody in to how hard I worked as a professional in the entertainment industry. Even better, my world as a D-lister was now on view for everyone to understand, and laugh about. was clueing everybody in to how hard I worked as a professional in the entertainment industry. Even better, my world as a D-lister was now on view for everyone to understand, and laugh about.

People would come up to me and say, "So is that real, that you can't get your agent on the phone?" As sad as that fact was, it gratified me no end to be able to reply, "Let's cal my agent right now."

Ring. Ring. Ring. Pick up. "Hel o, Kathy Griffin cal ing!"

Pause. "Wel , she's in a meeting and can't take your cal ."

I'd hang up and say to the skeptical fan, "Is that real enough for you?"

Things were about to get uncomfortably real, though, in my marriage.

Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List was off and running, but a big part of my life was about to come to a major crossroads. was off and running, but a big part of my life was about to come to a major crossroads.

Matt and I getting married by his father.

I never real y had a burning desire to get married.

Actual y, as a little kid, I used to think, I'll get married and divorced a I'll get married and divorced a million times! How boring to be with the same person forever! million times! How boring to be with the same person forever! I was never that girl who dreamed of her perfect wedding day, or tried on bridal dresses, or had princess fantasies. The prize I had my eye on was being the girl who got the applause, not the gla.s.s slipper. And that feeling was very liberating, too, because I never entered my adulthood thinking I would need a man to provide for me. I was never one of those girls who had to have The Ring to be happy. I was never that girl who dreamed of her perfect wedding day, or tried on bridal dresses, or had princess fantasies. The prize I had my eye on was being the girl who got the applause, not the gla.s.s slipper. And that feeling was very liberating, too, because I never entered my adulthood thinking I would need a man to provide for me. I was never one of those girls who had to have The Ring to be happy.

Plus, as my friends started getting married and having kids, they also started getting divorced. So I never had an overly romanticized vision of marriage.

And yet, to this day, my parents had the best marriage I have ever seen. It's a running joke among my siblings that my parents f.u.c.ked us al , because they set a relationship standard so unattainably high that none of us could ever achieve it. I'm not saying they were perfect. But you have never seen two people more in love. Dad never had a s.e.xist bone in his body. He never b.i.t.c.hed about changing diapers, never a.s.sumed there'd be a hot meal (preferably Hamburger Helper Beef Stroganoff) on the table when he came home, never subscribed to the belief that there was woman's work and man's work.

Mom always laughed about those wives from her era who had to put on a show for their husbands, putting makeup on and a cute outfit for their spouses upon their arrival home. She'd just be in her muumuu, making jokes like, "He'l have to take me as I am!"

It sounds crazy, but I've never heard John and Maggie Griffin say anything disrespectful to each other. They had this great ability to start laughing during a fight. If they started to bicker about something, at some point one of them would break down and start giggling, and then the little problem became a running joke to them. They never let something become a bigger problem. They knew when to be concerned about real things-like my brother Kenny-and didn't sweat the smal stuff.

My mom has a great story about later in life tel ing my dad she just didn't feel beautiful anymore, and him gently touching her hand and saying, "Oh Mag, you gave it a good run." Dad could tease Mom about looking like c.r.a.p one day, then she could throw it right back at him when he was yel ing at the TV during a footbal game. Their message as a unit was of working equal y, teasing equal y, and mutual respect, and it was pretty unique for its time.

Now, that's not to say they wouldn't have loved it if I'd married a dentist, since I lived with them til I was twenty-eight. But when they realized I was serious about my career, something shifted in them, and they wanted for me whatever made me happy. Mom understood and would say things to me like, "You want a guy who's going to be able to handle your career, who knows that work comes first." My parents supported me by tel ing me I was al I needed, and never made me feel that I was less because I didn't have A Man. However, to this day, I have to pay for al of my mom's dental work. So I do have A Mom.

But as you know by now, I'd had plenty of men. Often men bearing donuts. But as I got older my promiscuity lessened because I real y did want to make it work with somebody. Cal it maturity, or career comfort, or just plain being sore. I didn't have marriage in the back of my head, but I also didn't want to be a wh.o.r.e forever. As I became more successful, though, my circ.u.mstance as a self-made dame started to weed certain guys out. One time a cute guy who was flirting with me visited me at my first house, and he was real y dazzled by it. "Wow, this is real y impressive," he said.

"Thanks!"

Then he said, "Now you're never going to get a guy."

What he said hurt, but at least he was honest. He was saying he wasn't comfortable there. He was intimidated, and let me know that most guys' egos couldn't handle a woman who made more money or was more successful than them. When I was younger, my friends would tel me, "You need a guy who's funny!" But what this guy verbalized seemed to speak to what more and more people were tel ing me after I'd started a regular television gig and bought my own house, and a nice car: "You need a real y strong guy."

"Because I'm a bal buster?" I'd say.

"Yes," I'd hear, "but in addition, you have better toys than a dude has.

And a bigger d.i.c.k." Which is true. I have to use Magnums.

That's when I started to date younger guys. Younger guys are less likely to have those old-fashioned ideas about gender politics. Plus, the younger ones were asking me out, and men my age weren't. By that point I had gotten over bad-boy types, too, guys who might be charismatic or funny or exciting, but just not nice. As in, a.s.sholes on the first date. Pile up enough of those and you'l change your tune about charismatic jerks fast enough.

Examples, you ask? I remember being in a coffeehouse with a guy named Dewey, and somehow the conversation ventured into the topic of abusing women, and he said, "I'd only do it if I real y had to." This was our first date. I don't think Chris Brown had even been born yet. I had to cal a friend of mine to come pick me up. "I don't want this f.u.c.ker dropping me off and seeing where I live!" I told her.

I seemed to be a magnet for guys who would do things like take a phone cal from another girl during a first date, or comment on the hotness of other girls. One jerk did that when he was driving around looking for a parking s.p.a.ce, and when we parked I just started walking home, which was about four miles. A lack of courtesy was a big problem in guys I'd date, too. I'd be at the dude's place that sported some gross futon, an Atari with the joysticks, and a couple of roommates, and he'd make me run out at 8 in the morning to put a quarter in the meter so I wouldn't get ticketed. "Aww, don't make me get up!" he'd say in a baby voice. I could go on and on.

But one day I thought, What if I tried an exercise where the number What if I tried an exercise where the number one requirement for the next guy I go out with is that he be nice, not one requirement for the next guy I go out with is that he be nice, not anything else? anything else? Wel , that decision changed my life. I dated a guy named Andrew for two years, and though the relationship didn't work out-I f.u.c.ked it up by being the one who was the a.s.shole-what I took away from it was the nice guy part. I'd made the switch to nice guys, and my relationships from then on improved dramatical y. Even when they ended, there was nothing overly dramatic about the breakups. Wel , that decision changed my life. I dated a guy named Andrew for two years, and though the relationship didn't work out-I f.u.c.ked it up by being the one who was the a.s.shole-what I took away from it was the nice guy part. I'd made the switch to nice guys, and my relationships from then on improved dramatical y. Even when they ended, there was nothing overly dramatic about the breakups.

By my late thirties I was single and looking for a fun way to spend the break between the third and fourth seasons of Suddenly Susan Suddenly Susan, so I decided to rent a house in the Provence region of France. It seemed like a thing famous people did, and I had a whole Big Chill fantasy Big Chill fantasy that I'd invite friends, and we'd cook fabulous meals and throw plates at each other and play Motown music, and there'd be a lot of hanky-panky and fal ing in love and teary late-night confessionals. Natural y I saw myself as the Glenn Close character, and was preparing for when I'd have to cry in the shower for hours. So I booked a seven-bedroom house, and invited ten people. Then, as it got closer to the date, the invitees started flaking. It got to the point where it was going to be me and one other person in a huge house, out in a field, alone for three weeks. that I'd invite friends, and we'd cook fabulous meals and throw plates at each other and play Motown music, and there'd be a lot of hanky-panky and fal ing in love and teary late-night confessionals. Natural y I saw myself as the Glenn Close character, and was preparing for when I'd have to cry in the shower for hours. So I booked a seven-bedroom house, and invited ten people. Then, as it got closer to the date, the invitees started flaking. It got to the point where it was going to be me and one other person in a huge house, out in a field, alone for three weeks.

At this point, I got less discriminatory and started going through my address book. I eventual y a.s.sembled a fun group, which included a girl I real y only knew tangential y from running into her at the Warner Bros. lot.

Her name was Rebecca, and she was an a.s.sistant editor on The West The West Wing Wing. During one of our chats she mentioned that she was going to be at the Cannes Film Festival with the filmmakers of an animated short film she'd edited, and it fel right in the window of time when I'd rented the house. I invited her and her friends on the spot, and it helped make that Provence trip what I'd hoped it would be: a good time with al of us shooting the s.h.i.t and having fun.

At one point I was b.i.t.c.hing about how I couldn't meet guys, and Rebecca said, "You should meet my brother. I think you'd real y like him.

He's real y, real y smart, and he's real y, real y funny, and he's just gone through this transformation where he lost a bunch of weight, he's running marathons and wants to change his life and maybe meet somebody."

"Where does he live?" I asked.

"Washington, DC."

"I don't real y want a long-distance relationship," I said. "Those are real y tough."

"Wel , he's moving to LA."

Now it sounded better. Rebecca said his name was Matt, and that he was going to be visiting LA for a couple of weeks and thought we should meet up. I agreed, suggesting she bring him over one night to watch some sil y television show and eat takeout. Shortly thereafter, Matt and Rebecca came to my house. What I liked about him was that he was real y laid back, and seemed like a nice, mel ow guy. He was quietly witty, and overal a pretty cool customer, without a trace of arrogance.

The meet-and-greet went wel , and sure enough, Rebecca joked that I should babysit Matt when she had to go to work. "Be his tour guide," she said.