Nobody Wants This

Least of all me. Usually.

Funny story. Back in my hopeless romantic days, I was always writing love stories. Sometimes this was hard to do, as I was pigeonholed as an “action-adventure” screenwriter. So I would write a cop show and have the detective fall in love with a suspect, or a victim. The con man had to fall for his mark. The bounty hunter fell for his prey. When I wrote for the science fiction series Gene Roddenberry’s Andromeda, I had a space ship fall in love with another space ship. Seriously. They were the ship’s android AI avatars caught in a Romeo and Juliet story called, naturally, Star-Crossed.

I just watched it again; it’s available on free TV channels like Pluto, Tubi and Philo. It’s not bad, if you can stomach VFX circa 2001. But boy, can you tell it was written by a love addict! Everybody is horny for everybody, and love is always at first sight. “When I look at you, my breath catches in my throat and my heart swells in my chest until my ribs hurt,” says Gabriel, the handsome humanoid avatar of one spaceship. “I don’t want to live without you.”

They kiss. Romantic music plays. They kiss some more. They Matrix themselves into the mainframe and have virtual sex. “I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t want it to end,” says Rommie, the beautiful humanoid avatar of the other spaceship. They pledge their intention to give up their livelihoods, if not their lives, for one another within hours of that first kiss.

Now, I don’t want to say my dialog did it — as sincere as it was at the time, what with me being so enmeshed in my fantasies of true love — but the actors playing the lovesick avatars, Lexa Doig and Michael Shanks, ended up falling in love themselves. They’re still married to this day. It was a real life Hollywood Ending.

Lexa and Michael, if you read this… you’re welcome.

But I’m not the lovesick puppy I was in 2001. If anything, I have become the anti-Hollywood Ending lady. I’ve written magazine articles about it. There’s a chapter in LOVE ADDICT: Sex, Romance and Other Dangerous Drugs about it. I’m the one warning you that a romcom for a love addict is like a Budweiser ad for an alcoholic: It makes something look really, really good that has the potential to be really, really bad. The beer commercial shows the pretty people in the bar laughing, not the drunk puking in the bathroom the next morning. The romcom shows the meet-cute and the wedding chapel, not the bruised lady filing a restraining order six months later.

Which is why I had to be dragged like a dog to the groomer to Netflix to watch Nobody Wants This, the hit series about the star-crossed mismatch between a handsome young rabbi and a sex and relationship podcaster… a blonde, not remotely Jewish podcaster. They’re not exactly the AI avatars of opposing warships, but close enough.

I didn’t want to like it. I really didn’t. But I did. So why did this work for me when I am so resistant to the cultural trope of the romcom? Probably because the series is written by an actual shiksa who is married to an actual rabbi. It feels real because it’s about real people, who are honest and open with each other and confront their feelings like real people, just with snappier quips.

“My biggest fear is a bad facelift,” says Joanne, “but I think I'm realizing an even bigger fear is this: that I will become emotionally dependent on a guy who will one day realize that I'm too much and break my heart.” Who hasn’t felt like that? (Not the facelift part, dear one. You are perfect and will never age.)

You know the old line “love means never having to say you’re sorry?” It’s bullshit. Lovers are not mind readers. These guys apologize all the time. They make mistakes, they take responsibility for their mistakes, they make amends, they move forward. What a concept!

Kristen Bell plays the smart, funny, wildly insecure agnostic Joanne; Adam Brody plays the sensitive, spiritual, emotionally available rabbi Noah. The series was created by Erin Foster, wife of Rabbi Simon Tikhman. And while I’m sure she never crossed herself in synagogue like Joanne does — actually, I can’t imagine any adult living in Los Angeles being that clueless — Foster is using the stuff of real life to make her comedy.

She’s using her own marriage. She’s using her creative relationship with her real-life sister. And I suspect she’s using the lessons she learned from watching her dad, music industry powerhouse David Foster, marry and divorce five times, give or take a time. (Yes, his current wife is younger than his daughter. Yes, I used to play a gossip on E! Entertainment Television’s The Gossip Show.) The relationships in Nobody Wants This feel healthy. These days I like healthy, especially when it’s funny.

In the chapter of LOVE ADDICT where I talk about the way pop culture glorifies love addiction (and I was part of the problem!), I wrote: “I’m not lobbying for pop songs with lyrics like ‘Oh, baby, I love the way you communicate’ and ‘Rock me with your integrity, daddy, all night long.’” But maybe there’s a place for that, too. As long as it has a good beat and you can dance to it.

Nobody Wants This has been renewed for a second season. I will be watching. Join me.