Has Anyone Seen My Pants?
Page 21
At first, I felt like I was too in my head knowing that Jon was in the room, and then I was yelling at myself in my head for being in my head. But it turned out to be a great show, with a great crowd. There was totally more than one person there. And at least the first time of Jon seeing me perform was now behind me.
Jon had to start back at work the day after Easter, and I had shows basically every weekend before and after then, so he suggested we go away that week.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
“Somewhere warm,” he suggested.
“Like Mexico?” I replied.
“Yes! Mexico! All I want to do is lie on a beach and have cocktails and hang out with you.”
Oh my God, he’s perfect.
“So we don’t have to go on any hikes or anything?” I wrote back.
“What? NO. That sounds awful.”
So, we planned a trip to Playa del Carmen.
“Oh my God! You found the guy to go on a beach vacation with you!” Jackie exclaimed one night over drinks. “Think about it. You’ve always wanted someone who wanted to do that with you.”
She was right. It sounds so simple, but apparently it isn’t—at least not for me. And it was the perfect beach vacation. We woke up and went right out to our cabana every day. We had sex in the infinity pool outside our room at night (sorry, I think they drain it when people leave though, right?). We had a romantic dinner alone on the end of a pier that was his idea. And once again, it was just easy. The only thing I felt weird or uncomfortable about was the bathroom situation. That’s just never going to change.
Our last night in Mexico, as we sat listening to the waves crash and sipping—what else—champagne, we talked about our relationship.
“I know it feels like it happened kind of fast, but it just feels right,” he said as I held in a hiccup, because that would have totally ruined the moment. I can’t hold my champagne the way he can, okay?
“I agree,” I said, smiling, as I felt the hiccup escape my mouth. It was really loud. “Oh my God, how embarrassing,” I moaned.
“Oh, stop it. You don’t ever have to be embarrassed around me,” he said as he pulled me into his arms.
“Ah, thank you.”
“But for the record, it was super loud.”
“I hate you.”
“Well, that sucks because I love you.”
So there it was.
“I love you, too.” I smiled. And I meant it.
“I had given up on finding someone until I retired,” he told me. “It’s just so hard with all the traveling.”
“Me too!”
“I know, it’s like we’re perfect together.” He smiled.
He was right. I had thought that there was no way I could meet someone when I was constantly on the road for work. It had never occurred to me I might meet someone else, in a totally different profession, who had the same problem. And now here I was, sitting on a beach with a guy who not only understood me but also supported me in what I did.
Once we realized we hadn’t had dinner, we wandered into the hotel restaurant to get some food, mostly so that we could keep drinking.
As we walked in, Jon excused himself to use the restroom and I stood next to the hostess stand.
“Table for uno?” the hostess asked as she approached.
“Table for dos,” I said.
And I’m not going to lie: it felt pretty fucking good.
Sleeping Single Again
It’s one o’clock in the morning and I’m writing this from my bed. I’m under a pile of covers with a pillow propping up my laptop. I have the air-conditioning cranked up because it’s currently summer in Southern California. I know that most of the country thinks it’s always summer here, which it kind of is, but this is actual summer, okay?
What’s weird is that when I started my first book, I was in a relationship. By the time I finished it, I was single. I started writing this book while I was single and now here I am writing the end of it and I’m in a relationship. There are probably only two people more surprised than me that I found myself finishing this book in a relationship:
1. My editor, as it’s definitely not the ending I submitted when I sent out the book proposal months ago.
2. My friend Liz, a.k.a. “Two Rings,” who marvels at the fact that my Instagram account went from pictures of wacky signs I see when traveling the country and pictures of me holding my terminally ill cat to pictures of me and my boyfriend, always smiling.
But I kind of like that about this process. While I’m putting my life down on paper, things are changing. That’s life, after all, so if I’m going to write about my life I suppose I should be ready for change.
As usual, I’m pretty certain I just heard someone walking around upstairs, but even though I’m finally in an adult relationship, I still have to fend off imaginary intruders on my own, at least for now.
I’m still a big fan of alone time, a big fan of silence, and a big fan of getting to do whatever I want. That being said, I’m not really concerned anymore about someone putting my expensive underwear in the dryer. It’s just underwear, after all, and I do have several pairs of them. I mean, I say that now, but I’m sure the first time Jon damages my expensive underwear by throwing them in the dryer, I’m going to have the urge to react poorly. What I hope for myself (and for him) is that I can suppress that urge and not have an irrational argument about how my favorite underwear can now only comfortably fit my dead cat. I believe I’m going to be able to suppress it, as long as I don’t have PMS. In that case it won’t be my fault and he should have fucking remembered not to dry the lacy underwear! It isn’t that difficult of a request!
The good thing is, we’ve had that conversation. Not about underwear in particular, but about the fact that we both have lived alone for quite a while now and we both know it’s not going to be easy to learn to share our space with someone again. But for me, the difference between before I met him and now is that I truly look forward to the day I can take on that challenge.
Both of our jobs are going to keep us from being able to live together, or even in the same state, for at least a couple more years, so maybe it’s easy for me to say that I’m looking forward to it because there’s a pretty solid amount of time before it becomes a reality. But I think what’s happening here is that after thirty-nine years, I finally know what I want . . . and what I deserve. Plus, lying next to a big strong football player is going to make those nights when I think I hear footsteps in my house much easier to sleep through, which means I’ll be more well rested, which means I’ll be much easier to live with. I think.
I still worry more than I should about my future, maybe even more so now because I have someone I plan to share it with. At one point in my life I thought I had found perfect balance, then I fell off the balance beam. Now I’m more realistic: I don’t think I’ve necessarily found perfect balance, but I feel more balanced, and that’s progress. I’m not positive that total balance and calm is achievable unless you’re a monk or Maya Angelou, may she rest in peace, but I am positive that progress is progress and as long as I’m growing and learning, everything is going to be fine. Or even, dare I say . . . amazing.
There’s always a possibility, too, that by the time you read this book, my relationship will have somehow crumbled or ended in a fight over ruined expensive underwear. I’ve learned that things don’t always turn out how you expect them to. But I’ve also learned that this isn’t always a negative—sometimes they turn out even better than expected.
What I know for certain is that I found someone who loves me for me, and I love him for him, which ultimately is what we all deserve. Also, I’m really thankful for Twitter.
Gotta go, I just heard something upstairs.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank and acknowledge the following people:
My p
arents, Eric and Cheryl Henderson and Jim and Shirley Colonna, for always believing in and supporting me, even when they probably just wish I’d be a little less honest.
Jennifer Colonna-Quinton, for being such a good, supportive big sister.
My nephew, Nicholas. At sixteen years old, you’re already the kind of man most only aspire to be.
My book agent, Robert Guinsler. You’re the best.
Jen Bergstrom, Kate Dresser, and Tricia Boczkowski at Gallery Books for making this happen.
Abbey MacDonald and Lindsay Howard . . . you know why.
Everyone who represents me at APA and New Wave, who fight for my career on a daily basis. I appreciate the time you put into this more than you know.
Jeff Cohen.
Nelly Gonzalez for making me feel pretty even when I was pantsless.
Lisa Perkins and Alex Martinetti.
Blake Little and John Vairo for figuring out how to translate what was in my brain into a book cover.
All of my friends—thank you. I love you and you make my life better. Also, thank you for letting me talk about you.
All of the Morgans and Colonnas, and Leanne McClintock and Victoria Ishmael, for being the family I can always count on.
And Jonathan Ryan, for finally showing me what it’s like to be loved for who you are.
About the Author
SARAH COLONNA is a comedian well known for her appearances as a popular roundtable regular on the hit late-night talk show Chelsea Lately. She also served as a full-time writer on the show, as well as a producer, writer, and star of the spin-off scripted series After Lately. Sarah tours the country headlining comedy clubs and appears regularly on television.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: authors.simonandschuster.com/Sarah-Colonna
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Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Colonna
Photos courtesy of Sarah Tilley and Jeff Wild.
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First Gallery Books trade paperback edition March 2015
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Interior design by Jaime Putorti
Cover design by John Vairo Jr.
Cover photography by Blake Little
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Colonna, Sarah, 1974–
Has anyone seen my pants? / Sarah Colonna.
pages cm
1. Colonna, Sarah, 1974– 2. Women comedians—United States—Biography.
3. Television actors and actresses—United States—Biography. 4. Television comedy writers—United States—Biography. I. Title.
PN2287.C5745A3 2015
818'.602—dc23
2014039354
ISBN 978-1-4767-7192-2
ISBN 978-1-4767-7193-9 (ebook)
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
Recycle, Reduce, Reuse
Table for ¿Uno?
What Ails Me?
Called Up to the Majors
Weekend Get-Away from Me
It Ain’t Over till the Cat Lady Sings
The No-Sunshine State
Maui-Owie
Blind-Drunk Date
Parental Misguidance
Two Hundred Cigarettes
Reverse Catfishing
New Year’s . . . in Iowa
Table for Dos
Sleeping Single Again
Acknowledgments
About the Author