The Greatest Love Story Ever Told Read online

  N: I thought you weren’t going to comment on his sexuality. . . .

  M: I threw them away, and I regret that, because those are the shoes I was wearing when I met my darling.

  N: They were amazing. What was the name of that store on Melrose?

  M: Yeah, they were from a place on Melrose. I can’t remember what store it was, but I wish I still had them . . .

  N: They were badass skips. I was so smitten with those shoes I wrote a lyric about them.

  That was how we met. What was your first take? Do you remember what you thought of me and the role I assayed that day?

  M: I had dutifully scanned the entire circle of the cast to see who I was going to have my fling with, because of course that’s what you do the first day of rehearsal, if you’re single. I’m sorry to say that my lord and master Nick Offerman did not make the first cut. He did not register on the fling-o-meter.

  N: Did anyone else?

  M: Well, I kind of felt like Leo did. And later on, you and I had a running gag that you also had scanned him to have a fling with. But that’s old news. I don’t know if there was anyone else. And even with Leo, the signal wasn’t very strong.

  I had always dated these certain types of guys, these pale, hairless, muscle-free, boyish . . . basically gay guys. Gay guys or rock drummers. Those were my two categories. Nick did not fit into either of those categories, although I guess, conceivably, you could be a rock drummer.

  N: Thank you.

  M: Nick is very manly. And I just didn’t know what that meant—I had no idea what that was.

  So we read through the play, and it was . . . fine.

  N: (Laughs loudly)

  M: Everyone dispersed, and no one had said a word to me, except for maybe the producer, Bart. But somehow I was one of the last people to leave, and I just remember, like it was yesterday . . . Nick, do you remember it that well? The actual meeting?

  N: (Emphatically) Yes.

  M: It’s like it could be happening right this second.

  N: Yes.

  M: The space was a former bra factory, so it had concrete floors and big factory windows with sunlight streaming in. The front half had been converted into a bar where everybody would cavort before and after each performance. The back half was these bleachers that faced the stage area. We were exactly at the bleachers—exactly halfway. I was walking out and I heard a voice. I turned around, and there was this guy standing there, and he said, “That was really fun. I think this is going to be a blast.” And I said, “Oh, yeah.”

  He said, “Hi, I’m Nick,” and he put his hand out, and we shook hands.

  I said, “Hi, I’m Megan,” and he said, “Great job. I think this is going to be really cool. I’ll see you around.” And that was it.

  N: She was SMITTEN.

  M: (Laughs)

  N: I can’t believe she kept her feet. (Laughs)

  M: It was nice. I didn’t get any kind of feeling that he was trying to mack out on me or anything like that. I was just grateful that he had come up and introduced himself and made some pleasantries, because he was the only one. And then he turned out to be THE ONLY ONE FOR ME. End of book. We’re done.

  N: Boom.

  M: G’night.

  N: So it would be safe to say that we have good manners to thank for our inception.

  M: That’s right. Good country upbringings.

  N: I do think, apropos of this book, it’s worth noting that it wasn’t love at first sight.

  M: Uh, not for me! He was already in the bone zone. He just wasn’t going to let on so soon.

  N: (Laughs loudly) I had to go through some steps of self-realization before I could allow myself to be qualified to be in the bone zone. But what I want to point out—I think it’s worth noting in terms of meeting the right person for you—is that the thing that first made us friends was that we really were attracted to what the other did. We recognized a kindred spirit in our performance styles, if you will. And senses of humor.

  M: I have a slight amendment to that. There were a couple of musical numbers in the show that my character wasn’t involved in, so I got to watch them. Nick did a lot of funny dancing, and he did some flips—some handsprings and stuff. Didn’t you?

  N: At least one. (Laughs)

  M: And I thought, “That’s cute.” But I have to say that my first real spark with you was standing there on the stage, with the sun coming through those windows. We had been in the middle of rehearsing, but we weren’t actively doing lines in that moment. We were on a break and we were just fucking around, doing bits with each other. And you made me laugh so hard—this wasn’t the first time this had happened, this was, like, the seventh time. And I thought, “This guy really makes me laugh. Is he kind of sexy?”

  N: There was a bit of confederacy between us. It was you and me against everybody.

  M: Mm-hmm.

  N: And so we’d often be off to the side, cracking each other up.

  M: With our sidekick.

  N: With our sidekick. (Evil-ish laugh) And you would say the filthiest things, and I couldn’t wait to go home and tell my best friend, Pat, what Megan said today. “Can you believe this funny actress who’s successful has a mouth this filthy? I think I may have found the one.”

  (Both laugh)

  M: What else is there? There’s nothing better than stupid, dirty humor.

  N: No, there’s really nothing better.

  M: It’s also the best way to bond with the cast. But there was a particular chemistry between me and Nick.

  M: Let’s address the sidekick factor.

  N: I’ve learned it doesn’t pay . . .

  M: . . . I don’t want to be mean.

  It’s just that it’s important to note that Nick and I had a sidekick. Like all great romances, we had an impediment that needed to be overcome before our lips could touch. And the impediment came in the form of this person who had glommed on to . . . basically me, I guess, and then us, in that order. And we could not be rid of this person for one moment’s time. So, ultimately, we had to resort to lying. I think we were in tech at that point, or in previews for the show. We would have to say, “Oh, no, I’m just going home tonight, SOLO. I’m just going to hit the hay.” And this person would watch us both like a hawk until we had each driven away. And then we’d have to take crazy back-road routes to get wherever we were going, and then meet up at, say . . .

  N: A bordello. To have anal sex.

  M: Why would we need to go to a bordello, though?

  N: But we’re getting a bit ahead of a proper retelling. Back up to my difficulties in just making you aware of my intentions.

  M: Ah, yes. It’s all coming back to me now. We had started flirting, and then there was a whole hilarious, classic, old-fashioned mix-up. This was 2000, pre–cell phone. At the beginning of any theatrical venture, there is a contact sheet for the cast so that if you have questions for a fellow cast member, you can contact them outside of work. But I had given my fax number because I didn’t want any of those motherfuckers calling me at home. Around the time Nick and I had started laughing a lot and I was thinking, “Maybe he’s cute,” I was at home and ventured into a seldom-used corner of my apartment, the corner that housed my fax machine. And I saw a red light blinking. There was an answering machine on my fax, but no one ever left messages on it because it was A FAX MACHINE. So I never checked it. So I saw the blinking light, and I hit play, and there was this really charming message from Nick, who, at that moment, I realized for the first time, has a very pleasant speaking voice. He was asking me to come meet him at a club to see this band called Cowboy Nation. The message had been left at least a week before—it might have even been two weeks. It was a long time. And I thought, “Oops . . .” because I realized that this entire time he thought I’d been icing him.

  The next day at rehearsal I said, “I
just got your message, because that was my fax number.” And we had a good laugh about that.

  N: That was a good chuckle.

  M: I had rushed into a lot of relationships in my past, and it hadn’t worked out well. So I was bound and determined—because Nick is not fling material in any way, shape, or form—to not rush this process. I was a little unsure. Nick was different. He wasn’t crazy, and he wasn’t a bad guy. Those were some of the things I was used to, and I realized he wasn’t any of those things, and I didn’t know what to do about that. There was one night that I got into my car and started it up, and the passenger door opened, and Nick hopped into the passenger seat. (Laughs)

  N: It was a Range Rover, so it was a jump. (Laughs)

  M: Yes. He leapt into the seat with a lot of bravado, and I said, “Dude, whatever you think is going to happen right now is not going to happen. So you might want to pop on out of the Rover.” And he did. He got out without a word.

  N: No! There was a word. I remember clearly, because I was so scared to do that. Because of the weird social— I was living in someone’s basement, and you were this amazing, shiny star. So I had to overcome the sort of social levels, the feeling that I was beneath you. So I jumped in, and you did say, “Back on out of the car,” and I said, “OK, but I just have to ask you—this is going on, right? I’m not imagining this.” And you were tough with me for a long time. You smiled and said, “We’ll see. Nothing’s going on right now.” But you gave me enough encouragement that I continued to ply my troth.

  M: That’s funny because I didn’t feel any social difference with us. On paper, you’d think I might. Nick wore these yellowish-gold overalls every day that he wrote people’s addresses and phone numbers on—

  N: There’s a very practical reason for that.

  M: Not being able to afford paper? The first time we went to dinner, he very ceremoniously unfurled his cloth napkin and tucked it into the bib of his overalls.

  N: As I had learned from Jethro, a citizen of Beverly Hills . . .

  M: (Laughs) . . . so you’d think I could ostensibly have had some sort of social something, but I didn’t. I just liked Nick. I thought he was funny, and I thought he was nice. I didn’t know what to make of him, because I’d never spent any time with a guy who was just a good guy like that.

  N: Bone structure . . .

  M: Those cheekbones! (Laughs) Those patrician cheekbones. That’s what reeled me in.

  But I’d never encountered anybody like that. All this stuff—living on somebody’s couch, tucking his napkin into his overalls—it didn’t occur to me for a second that any of it was a strike against him or something. He seemed very confident. And he had a lot of personal dignity, much more so than every other guy I had dated, guys who were, on paper, much more quote-unquote sophisticated.

  Early on, and this is really important, after we had become a couple, after I made him jump through fifteen thousand hoops to get to the puss—so post-puss, when we were a couple—we went out to dinner one night. I said, “You know, I’ve heard that a lot of men have a hard time being involved with a woman who is more overtly successful than they are. I have a job right now, and I’m making money—is that going to be a problem for you?” And he looked me in the eye and said, “You know what? I’ve never had any money, and I’ve always lived like a king.” And I thought, “Jesus, good answer.” He’s rich in spirit. (Excited voice) But now he’s got a lot of money!

  N: Ha-ha!

  M: Yet again, the joke’s on . . . somebody.

  N: Now I’m rich in the finest Jordache jeans . . .

  I moved in with Megan. Was it after the play closed?

  M: No . . . not exactly. Here’s how this all breaks down. I held Nick at bay for an unreasonably long period of time for a variety of reasons, the primary reason being that I had rushed into a lot of relationships in the past, and I didn’t want to do that again. So I kind of went overboard—overcompensated—with Nick. We rehearsed, we flirted, we had the sidekick, we went to dinner and he tucked his napkin in. On the way out of the napkin restaurant, heading back to the car, Nick surreptitiously took my hand as we went down an escalator, and he linked his fingers through mine, and I had little butterflies.

  N: Escalator hand-holding. Boom.

  M: The escalator hand-hold was the first move, and it worked. It was just simple and romantic. Nick is not a big operator. It’s great, because I’ve been with him for eighteen years now, and I never have to worry that he’s out banging somebody else. Because he doesn’t have it in him. He’s not that kind of person.

  N: It’s a nice quality in a marriage. It does come in handy.

  M: It’s an advantage.

  We had the hand-holding. We then arranged to somehow steal away from the sidekick and meet for drinks at the Red Lion in Silver Lake with a couple of Nick’s boyfriends, because I think Nick secretly wanted to see what the boyfriends had to say. If I’m not reading into that.

  N: No, that’s correct.

  M: We went and had drinks with them. I only drank wine, and the wine there was AMAZING, and then we dropped off his friends. Music was playing—I think it was Beck.

  N: Beck, “Beautiful Way.”

  M: We kissed, and I was saying, “No, we shouldn’t kiss,” because we were in rehearsals, and I was thinking we couldn’t be involved during the run of the show, and it was going to be a nightmare . . .

  N: It was unseemly.

  M: Not to put too fine a point on it, but you’re not supposed to fuck where you work. But things happen.

  N: Cupid had another idea . . .

  (Both laugh)

  M: It turned into kind of a make-out sesh. Like a thirty-minuter.

  N: We kept replaying the song—I’d say ten times.

  M: We kept playing the song over and over again. Oh my god . . . it was nice. It was sweet.

  Our next rendezvous was at this little place on Franklin. We sat at a front table near the window. Deep thoughts were exchanged. We had a longer make-out session by my car. Then it became a regular sort of thing.

  So we were making out on the reg. But that was it.

  Finally, Nick was like, “You know, I left my . . . galoshes . . . at your apartment.” But he’d never been to my apartment. He was trying to finagle some way to get over there.

  Sidebar: He drove a rusted-out red ragtop . . .

  N: Chevy Cavalier.

  M: What was the year?

  N: Probably 1993.

  M: Mm-hmm . . . And he also had a real beater of a motorcycle, and I loathe motorcycles. But in whichever vehicle, he eventually got over to my apartment.

  (To Nick) I don’t even think I let you come in the first time.

  The second time I let him come in, but he couldn’t go past the living room. Then he slept over, but he had to sleep on the couch. Then he made it to the bed for make-out times, but I wouldn’t let him sleep in the bed. He had to go back out and sleep on the couch. Then ultimately, of course, he got to sleep in the big-boy bed.

  This was the beginning of us living together, because you never went back to your apartment. The first time you came over to my apartment, that was it. Even though I wouldn’t let you into any rooms but the living room. And that includes the bathroom. (Laughs)

  N: There was no question. I had been looking for the woman of my dreams, with whom I could trust my devotion, and I found you. I would have fucking still slept on the couch for years, because, great—if you’ll let me adore you, I’ll be here. (Laughs)

  M: Women who read this are going to be murdering their boyfriends right now. With their words. Not literally. A lot of women reading this are going to be having a good, hard think right about now. Because there are not too many men like you.

  N: I come by it honest. My parents are pictures of fidelity. They have incredible integrity and character. I’m sure some of that comes from
them. It’s not like I’m so noble or something—I simply knew.

  M: He had stick-to-it-iveness.

  N: There was no thinking involved. My internal clock, my alarm went off and said, “You’re done looking.”

  (Both laugh)

  M: As much as I was keeping him at bay—and as slowly as I was taking things—all I wanted was to be in love, and be happy, and have a life with someone. I always thought that someday I would find a really great person to spend my life with. But I was forty-one at this point, and . . . a sort of once-bitten, twice-shy aspect was in operation. But that was my hope, my fervent desire. By taking it really slow, that was my way of protecting myself and making sure that there wasn’t some other shoe that was going to hilariously drop and blow everything up. And there wasn’t.

  On the Fourth of July, Nick and I went to see Glen Campbell at the Hollywood Bowl. It was a really nice night.

  N: The Hollywood Bowl is a beautiful outdoor amphitheater. The audience sits on the side of a hill, up in the Hollywood Hills. It was one of those moments that felt like what I dreamed Los Angeles would be like. Glen Campbell’s playing a show, the stars are out, it smells amazing, the climate is immaculate, I’m with the love of my life, and . . . it’s fucking Glen Campbell.

  M: (Laughs) We had bought a blanket at the Hollywood Bowl’s little store. It was a little chilly, and we bought a lap blanket that was very corny.

  N: I loved it.

  M: I bought this blanket because I knew Nick was going to go crazy over it, because it had a big American eagle on it. It was hideous.

  N: (Laughs)

  M: But there was also something really beautiful about it. And Nick did love it, and it became this big thing. Years later, cleaning out the garage, that blanket got disposed of—by the same assistant who nixed the red shoes, PS—and when Nick found out it was gone, he was devastated. Someday, I hope to replace it, because I didn’t fully realize the depths of Nick’s attachment to it until it got dumped.