فصل 24

24

A few months into dating, Peter and I planned a vacation to go skiing. In preparation, he took me to REI. I had never been to an REI store and didn’t know what REI stood for or what they sold there. I asked him why we had to go. He asked me where I thought people went to get outdoor gear, and I was like, “Um, not Barney’s?” No, Lauren, not Barney’s. What I was to discover at REI would blow my mind—and, weirdly, help me understand show business better.

First of all, the sign on the front door says FREE WI-FI AND INSPIRATION. Whoa. I was impressed by this offer, which was already better than some nice hotels I’ve stayed in. In fact, if you go to REI right now, you’ll probably find me in the glamping section checking my email and eating freeze-dried watermelon!

It didn’t take me long to realize that everyone who works at REI is named Tad. Tad has zero percent body fat and a deep tan. From the joyous way Tad describes the absorbency levels of the Shammie Wowzas by the register, you might suspect he is on drugs. But Tad would never take drugs, what with all the fresh air in the world! Tad and all his co-workers, Tad, wear matching vests adorned with loops and hooks. You may briefly wonder if the Tads go out after work wearing their matching vests, or if they’re just part of a cult whose members love to fish. Tad is always happy and positive. The only time I’ve ever seen Tad a little bit down was when I told him I thought all sleeping bags were alike. Don’t be sad, Tad! I know better now. Every food available at REI has the word “fiber” on the package, and everything else they sell has a tough or scary name: the Enforcers, the Prowlers, the Trailblazers, the Strykers. No, these aren’t names of military attack plans—they’re just waterproof socks!

I was always one of those East Coast kids who refused to button my jacket. I was cold through most of the 1980s. In college, I wore a thin, vintage men’s overcoat I got for twelve dollars at Screaming Mimi’s—who thought about warmth? But now I was dating someone who grew up in the Midwest, where cold is no joke and where being prepared to face the elements is just something a person who isn’t an idiot does. Peter knows everything there is to know about outdoorsy things like what to do if you see a bear (run? Don’t run? I always forget), and if you want to talk about wind-resistance ratings or sweat-wicking properties, have I got the guy for you! He’s also tried about a million times to explain to me why warm water makes ice cubes faster than cold water, which confounds me to such a degree that I respond by running around the house yelling, “I was an English major! I wrote my thesis on Tennyson!” But at REI, with the help of Peter and the Tads, I stocked up on thermals and a good ski jacket, plus socks called the Annihilators, the Doomsdays, and the Widow-Makers.

On our ski trip, I was warm and dry. And I realized for the first time in my life that feeling like your toes are going to fall off doesn’t have to be part of being outside in the snow. I couldn’t believe such comfort existed! I started buying so much outdoor athletic gear that I actually applied for an REI membership card. My bungee cords now earn points!

Whether it’s on your own or through someone else, it’s wonderful to be introduced to something you didn’t realize you needed. In learning about the wonders of REI, it occurred to me that going into vulnerable public situations unprepared was a little like facing winter in New York City or being on the ski slopes with my twelve-dollar Screaming Mimi’s coat flapping open. I wish I’d learned sooner, but in more ways than one, I now know more about protective layers than I used to. I’ve learned that a little readiness goes a long way when facing the elements, be they rain, or snow, or Access Hollywood. Just like in the outdoors, I’ve learned it’s much easier to strip off a layer if you find you don’t need it than to put one on. If you’ve already exposed yourself, it may be too late.

Peter has family in Northern California, and the first time I traveled with him there, I stopped short in the middle of the Sonoma County airport. There, in the center of the lobby, is a life-size Lucy advice booth with a sign that says THE DOCTOR IS IN. Charles Schulz was a native of the area, and Peanuts characters abound. The Lucy booth carries mostly travel pamphlets and maps to wine country, rather than advice for actors, but I still found its existence comforting, its appearance a positive sign.

Last week I opened the car door and one of Peter’s golf balls rolled out and onto the street, and I thought, there was a time when this would have been a very big deal. Today my car not only has random golf balls in it, but also khaki-colored sun hats that resemble those worn by beekeepers, an assortment of bandanas, those sunglasses that are only meant to be used as protective eyewear during a racquet sport, and dog-eared paperback books of poetry. Now I take these items for granted. Back then, a man’s golf ball rolling out of my car would have prompted frenzied calls to my girlfriends: “He left a golf ball in the car. He just left it there. What does it mean? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Should I text him about it? I SHOULD, right? He’s probably looking ALL OVER FOR IT.” I wish I’d enjoyed my single days more and spent my free time reading or becoming a better photographer or something, and not worried so much about the meaning of golf balls.

Because here’s the thing: I was fine on my own, and so are you. But it can be hard when you feel ready for Happy Couplehood and you seem to have missed the train. As my friend Oliver Platt used to say to me about hopes and dreams I’d share with him: “It’s coming, just not on your time frame.” I find this a helpful reminder in any number of ways: not only when you’re hoping to meet someone, but also when you’re waiting for a better job or for some relief during a bleak time. When Peter and I held hands that night all those years ago, I had no idea we’d end up shopping at REI together one day. It might have been nice if he could have turned to me and said: “Look, tonight isn’t the time, but we’re going to leave here and learn a bunch of things that are going to make this work approximately five years from now—see you then!” But life doesn’t often spell things out for you or give you what you want exactly when you want it, otherwise it wouldn’t be called life, it would be called vending machine.

It’s hard to say exactly when it will happen, and it’s true that whatever you’re after may not drop down the moment you spend all your quarters, but someday soon a train is coming. In fact, it may already be on the way. You just don’t know it yet.