He turned his head so he was gazing out the windshield again. “There’s a picture of the cast and crew of TNO taken every year on the main stage, right? I’m sure I’ve seen it online or in a magazine. And if I was looking at that, would I pick you out from everyone else and say, ‘That’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen’？ If I’m being honest, no. But human beings aren’t static images. We’re dynamic and kinetic, and it’s like I said before—right away, I wanted to talk to you, and every time I’ve talked to you since I’ve always wanted to keep talking to you.”
That I didn’t feel completely uninsulted by his admission that I wasn’t the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen meant—what? That I’d nursed some private hope that he thought I was? Either because he had unusual taste or because I’d been holding on to the belief that, as with many a romantic comedy heroine, I was far more beautiful than I realized? At the same time, I didn’t feel the impulse to cling to the insult as I might have when I was younger; I appreciated his candor. I said, “Do you know what sapiosexual means?”
“No.”
“It means being attracted to someone’s brain.”
“I am attracted to your brain,” he said. “But I’m also attracted to the rest of you.” We both were quiet for a few seconds, then he said, “When you told me that thing about swearing off dating at TNO because Elliot rejected you, a part of me was like, Thank God for that. Even though your decision seems over the top, if you hadn’t made it, you’d probably be married to another writer. But now I wonder if it’s a cautionary tale about how you want to stew in your aloneness. Because, sure, I’m discreet when I’m dating someone new in order to avoid media drama, but I’m not the one who’s into secret hookups as a way of life.”
“Why would I want to stew in my aloneness?”
“Because you’re scared.”
“What am I scared of?”
“Getting hurt. Knowing another person really well and another person knowing you really well. Feelings you can’t make fun of. Interactions that go on for long enough that they maybe turn a little awkward or a little tedious instead of ending after ten minutes with a zinger.”
“If you’re referring to TNO sketches, they’re more like five minutes. Ten minutes is an eternity on TV.”
He looked at me then said, “Okay, Sally,” and turned on the ignition.
“I love you, too,” I blurted out.
“Do you?” His brow was furrowed.
“The truth is that I can’t believe you exist. I’ve never known anyone with the combination of qualities you have. You’re so deeply nice and so humble and so insightful in this very non-show-offy way. And even though your fame does fuck with my head, I really respect your creativity and talent and work ethic. Sometimes I feel silly expressing this to you because I’m the fifty-million-and-first person to say it, but I do think your songs are beautiful. And spending time with you, it is fun and great. Everything you said, I feel that, too, that I loved being around you at TNO and I loved emailing with you and I loved talking to you on the phone and I love—” I paused but then I made myself say it. “I love when we make love. It’s definitely different from anything I’ve ever experienced. And I can’t believe that we met and I get to be the person who’s eating dinner with you and hiking with you and being naked with you. For that matter, that I’m the person who just looks up and there you are in the same room with me, and, yes, you are smoking hot. And how unique and incredible you are does make me kind of karmically or existentially terrified. Because how could anyone deserve you, let alone me? But I’m also really grateful because I always wanted to feel disbelief at my own luck. At my romantic luck, I mean, not my luck related to Nigel giving me a career break.”
By this point, Noah was smiling, looking at me with that great affection—with love—and as he leaned forward and kissed me, I was struck by how forgiving he was, how he wasn’t going to make me grovel. “Let’s go home,” he said. “Okay? Since we’re in agreement about how good we are at being naked together—let’s go do that.”
“You make me want to be a better man,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”
* * *
—
Back at his house, in his bed, we looked into each other’s eyes the most that we ever had, we touched each other the most tenderly, and a few times I wasn’t sure if I could maintain the eye contact, but I did. At one point, he stopped moving while he was still inside me and smiled, his face above and so close to mine. Quietly, I said, “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Then we kissed for a long time, moving together.
After, while I rested my head on his chest, he said, “You know that thing I said about if I saw a picture of the cast and crew of TNO? I feel like it came out wrong, because you are really pretty.” He squeezed my waist. “I love every part of you.”
“When I didn’t think you were smart at the pitch meeting, it was only for ten minutes,” I said. “Ever since then, I’ve thought you are.”
He laughed. “There’s a compliment I’ve wanted to give you, but I’m not sure I’ve figured out how to say it in a way that doesn’t make me sound self-centered.”
“Everyone is self-centered,” I said. “Go for it.”
“Do you remember when we were on the phone and you asked if I’m the type of Airbnb host who leaves my family photos out and my food in the refrigerator, and I said that I would make my house very clean so that you’d give me five stars?”
“Yes.”
“I realize my response wasn’t, like, TNO-quality. But I was proud of myself because, honestly, I’m not usually that quick-witted. You bring out that side of me. You know the advice about how you should always play tennis with people better than you? When I’m talking to you, I’m a funnier and smarter version of myself because you’re funny and smart.”
“Ironically,” I said, “I’ve played tennis about twice, and I’m awful at it.”
But Noah’s voice was serious as he said, “For a long time, I’ve known that the best parts of my life were the public parts. I can’t complain, because those parts have been really great, like touring in another country or being part of a ceremony at the White House. But in my romantic relationships, away from audiences and cameras—I don’t want to insult the women I’ve dated, because it takes two to have mundane conversations, but they were mundane. It was like what you said about you and that guy Gene. Either we were talking about predictable topics or talking about potentially interesting topics in a predictable way. Sometimes I’d tell myself, Well, sure, it’s hard for normal life to measure up after you hang out with the Obamas. But other times, I felt like, behind the scenes, there was this emptiness. At night, when I was going to bed, I was more relaxed when I was by myself, whether I wasn’t dating anyone or was dating someone but they weren’t there that night. I wanted to find a real partner, but I couldn’t picture who the partner would be.” He paused. My ear was over his heart, and I could hear its steady beat. “When I’m with you,” he continued, “the best, most interesting part of my life is behind the scenes. I felt this emailing you, and I even felt it in your TNO office when you were helping with my sketch. Like, no one in the world knows what we’re up to except us and it’s awesome. It’s not for social media, it’s not for a documentary about the making of an album, it’s not an anecdote to tell on a talk show. It’s just because we think it’s fun and we like each other and we like being together.”