You Have To Kiss a Lot of Frogs
“A provocative and intelligent look at the ways that people search for a meaningful life.”—Publishers WeeklyForty-five-year-old actress Karrie Kline doesn’t usually lose a lot of sleep over her age or her single status. But after one too many bridal showers, a notice on her apartment, an expired unemployment claim and her acting prospects drying up—too old to play the ingénue, too young for the role of matriarch—she’s awake at 2 am and determined to get perspective on her life. Starting with the men she’s dated.From the man whose parents loved her more than he did, to the famous actor who had more bark than bite, Karrie traces back through her love life to uncover how her experiences have shaped her and how to find meaning in the past. Told with warmth, wit and poignancy, You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs shows how to face your memories—even the darkest, most secret ones—with courage, humor and hope.“More than just a catalogue of loser guys and bad relationships, Graff’s smart and funny novel shows just how hard finding the right man can be and how easy it is for a relationship to fail.” —Booklist “We’re rooting for her to find everything she’s been missing—which turns out to be less than she imagines.”—New York Daily News
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For my mother,
Lonnie and for my brother, Steve
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to…
All the family members, friends, peers and people who have inspired and encouraged me. You know who you are!
Margaret Marbury at Red Dress Ink for picking me out of the slush pile and saying “yes,” and the RDI committee in New York, Toronto and the U.K. for agreeing with her.
My editor, Melissa Jeglinski, who is a joy to work with. Who helped me create a road map for Karrie Kline. Who has great ideas, and great taste in restaurants!
The entire RDI team for their wonderful and creative work on all aspects of this book, and special thanks to Zareen Jaffery for her help.
Robert Youdelman, Danielle Forte and Dianne Jude for their terrific work, and Mark Pedowitz for pointing me in that direction.
Nancy Kelton whose class, Writing from Your Personal Experience, started something. The “Los Angeles Writer’s Bloc” and “The WorkShop Theater Company.”
Lisa Forman and Ruth Kreitzman for pushing me to write.
Jill Cohen for the serendipitous act that led to publishing this book!
Jamie Callan for oh so much, for everything!
Nancy Giles for the delicious brainstorms!
Ellen Byron, Steve Keyes and Matt Graff for support from the beginning.
Stewart Zuckerbrod, Tracy Tofte, Sandy Eisenberg, Pam Clifford and Susan Banerjee for always listening to me read. Phyllis Heller for ideas. Mary Gordon Murray for living through the rewrite process with me, and Marlene Kaplan who’s going in the white limo!
And in memory of David Stenstrom who was the first one to say, “Laurie, you should be writing this down.”
CONTENTS
You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs
April Fools’ Day
Hell’s Kitchen, NYC 2003
Wake Me When We Get There
Flashback—Easter Week
Brooklyn, NY 1969
Nottingham Forest
Memorial Day Weekend
The Catskills, Upstate NY 1988
David’s Dad
Rosh Hashana
Central Park West, NYC 1988
Whose Party Is This Anyway?
Daylight Saving Time Ends
Grand Central Station, NYC 1989
A Clue in Time Saves Nine
Tisha B’av
Greenwich Village, NYC 1990
Roman Holiday
My Birthday
Gramercy Park, NYC 1991
My Worst Date…Almost
New Year’s Day
Chelsea, NYC 1992
The Clan of the Cab Bears
Passover
Port Authority, NYC 1992
Wherefore Art Thou?
Valentine’s Day
Upper East Side, NYC 1994
That’s All, Folks
An Hour Later
Ten Blocks North, NYC 1994
Joy to the World
Flashback—Last Christmas
Charlottesville, VA 1993
That’s Really All
Present—Fifteen Minutes Later
Back in the Elevator, NYC 1994
The Truth About Men and Astrology
Flag Day
The Upper West Side, NYC 1994
From the Top
Election Day
The Theater District, NYC 1994
Eating out of His Hand
Veterans’ Day
Soho, NYC 1994
Feast Your Eyes
Twenty Minutes Later
Fifth Avenue, NYC 1994
The Lightbulb at the End of the Tunnel
Three Months After That
Midtown, NYC 1995
Cheesecake Delight
Labor Day
The Great Lawn, NYC 1995
Life in the Fast Lane
First Day of Autumn
Los Angeles, CA 1995
The Lion’s Share
Groundhog Day
West L.A., CA 1996
What’s the Big Deal?
Hanukkah
Studio City, CA 1996
The Call of the Wild
Mother’s Day
Beverly Hills, CA 1997
Weight-Listed
First Day of Summer
Los Feliz, CA 1997
Starry, Starry Night
Last Day of Summer
Hollywood, CA 1997
There’s No Place Like Home 250
Two Weeks Later
Hollywood, CA 1997
We Have So Much in Common 262
The Next Night
Hollywood, CA 1997
You Should Be So Lucky
Presidents’ Day
West Hollywood, CA 1998
A Eulogy for Henry
My Fortieth Birthday
West Palm Beach, FL 1998
The Wedding
Father’s Day
Brentwood, CA 1998
How Personal Do You Want to Get?
Halloween
Columbus Avenue, NYC 1998
Putting Back the Pieces
Thanksgiving
West Palm Beach, FL 1998
In Motion
St. Patrick’s Day
Baltimore, MD 1999
Unscrambled
Liberation Day
NYC Underground 1999
I Can Do That
Martin Luther King Day
My Kitchen, NYC 2000
Modem Operandi
Columbus Day Weekend
Henry Hudson Parkway, NY 2001
Shiksa Syndrome
Counting the Omer
West End Avenue, NYC 2002
In Search of the Regular Ultimate Hold
Fourth of July
East Hampton, NY 2003
The Water in the Walls
New Year’s Eve
Brooklyn Heights, NY 2003
About the Author
Coming Next Month
1
You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs
April Fools’ Day
Hell’s Kitchen, NYC 2003
I like being a woman. I also like being friends with other women. I don’t, however, like feeling forced into participating in some ritual with an entire flock of them I’ve never even met. It’s like having to wear those dumb party hats, and blow on those even dumber paper things at midnight with a bunch of strangers on New Year’s Eve. You’re thrown in with people you don’t know and don’t want to be with, but you’re all going to share this intimate event with glee. If it kills you. And that’s how I feel at this bridal shower.
Here I am. Tuesday. 6:00 p.m. Right after work, if you actually have a normal job, and I’m standing in a Mexican restaurant in midtown Manhattan, holding a margarita I’m not drinking because I don’t like the salt. I’m stuck wearing gray wool slacks because I came from an audition for a soup commercial, à la Winter in Vermont, and realized way too late that the bag with my dress was at home on my bed, and not with me. The bright fluorescents highlight the brown roots on my red head, and a silver barrette is holding together a few strands of hair, attempting to disguise a bad bang trim. That time-of-the-month bloat is making my size-four pants feel tight, and my hair feels hot around my neck. I can’t help but compare myself to everyone around me. They seem perfectly coiffed, and groomed, and excited to be here. I’m one of fifty overeager women waiting for Marcy to arrive to surprise her because, finally, after twenty-five years of dating, she’s met some guy she’s going to marry. And everyone’s gabbing how they’re sooooooo happy for her. Frankly, I don’t believe it.
