Technology has certainly shaped beauty.
Smartphones, artificial intelligence, and the metaverse are changing how we present ourselves on and offline.
But how is beauty shaped technology?
Hi, I'm Isabelle Arucilini.
In the latest episode of This Is Not a Beauty podcast, we'll hear from a meta executive, a Paralympian and more.
Listen now on your favourite podcast platform.
Love now and only. Love was stronger than anything else.
And I love you more than anything else.
From the New York Times, I'm Anna Martin.
This is Modern Love.
Every week we bring you stories and conversations inspired by the Modern Love column.
We talk about lovers, families, friends, and all the messiness of human relationships.
Today, I talk to the actor, singer, and comedian Bridget Everett.
On the Peabody Award -winning HBO series Somebody Somewhere, now in its third and final season, Bridget stars as a 40 -something woman named Sam.
Sam has always loved to sing, but over time she's lost her self -confidence and she's given up on music entirely.
It's only after Sam becomes best friends with a sweet, supportive man named Joel that she starts to build herself back up.
He even pushes her to sing again.
One of my favourite singers in the entire world is here with us tonight.
Sampire, come on up here.
No! The two of them become so close, they even call each other from the toilet.
After eating a questionable hors d 'oeuvre called St.
Louis Sushi. Can you ever tell anybody what just happened to my asshole?
I will come over. Oh, no, Joel.
This is a new level of intimacy.
To watch Somebody Somewhere is to fall in love with these two friends and to hope that nothing gets in the way of what they share together.
So I wanted to talk to Bridget about how central a best friendship can be if we're willing to make the space for it in our lives.
And Bridget reads an essay about two friends with a bond so close, maybe we need a new word to define it.
Bridget Everett, welcome to Modern Love.
Hi. I'm so happy you're in the studio with us.
So the show you star on, Somebody Somewhere, is currently on its third and final season.
I love this show. But I'm really struggling with something, I hope you'll help me out.
I find it tough to categorize the show in terms of genre.
I'm like, I want to call it a romantic comedy, but it's also sort of like an ensemble slice of life.
At times it's a musical.
How would you describe the show?
Well, I have a terrible time describing it too, so maybe that's why we have such an intimate audience.
I don't know, I think of it as, you know, people say dramedy, but kind of just a slice of life, some tender moments, some, you know, and maybe a fart.
I was going to say some tender moments and then like a big diarrhea scene in season two.
Yeah, because that's real life.
Of course it's real life.
Maybe not for you, but for, you know, people I know.
Saint Louis sushi, is that a real thing?
Yeah, my friend, Larry Krohn, it's one of his signature dishes at parties, you know, he always passes around his little can of hay or whatever, but it's basically ham wrapped around cream cheese wrapped around a pickle.
And you know what, it's always a hit.
No, it sounds so good, is the thing.
Yeah, but you know, on the show we had to kind of, you know, make it fun.
You had to make it fun by that, you mean you had to fill it with a lot of farts.
Okay, your character on Somebody Somewhere is a woman named Sam, who is somewhat inspired by your own life.
Like you, Sam grew up in Manhattan, Kansas, where the show takes place.
Sam loves singing, but she has a lot of fear and self -doubt around it.
Whereas you, Bridget, have a cabaret song where you proudly describe all the shapes and sizes boobs come in.
I love that song. You just seem fearless on stage.
Have you ever had any of Sam's self -doubt in your own life?
Oh, sure. I mean, a lot of what I have in common with Sam is, you know, obviously the love of singing and, you know, Sam really comes alive when she sings and I feel the same way.
I feel like I connect, I kind of plug into life when I'm singing.
There's a way that I can connect to my emotions when I'm doing that, that I can't sometimes do otherwise.
And I also struggle with the self -worth like she does.
So over the course of these three seasons, as she is acknowledged kind of to herself what she's working through, I mean, she doesn't say, oh, I'm Sam and I have self -doubt.
You know, we sort of see her trying to push through some of that and I've learned a lot from her.
Like sometimes we write the scenes and I'm like, man, I wish I could be like Sam.
Have you ever applied?
I mean, I know it's like loosely autobiographical, but of course, the show is a work of fiction, but you're saying that you've learned things, from Sam.
Have you ever found yourself quite literally applying like a lesson that she's learned in the show to your own life?
Like do you ever do something in your life and think, wow, I learned this from Sam, my character and somebody somewhere.
Absolutely. There's something that Sam says in season two.
She's like, NNP, no new people.
Yes. And that's kind of like me.
I have a lot of friends, my life was full enough and I just, I'm socially anxious, you know, many people are, so I just like, I just rather not.
But Sam, especially in season three, is allowing more people into her life and into her heart.
And I think that I have honestly been trying to work on that myself.
Interesting. Okay. So what you're saying is in season two, Sam kind of adopts this, yeah, life ethos, I don't know, mantra, no new people, meaning no new friends.
But then in season three, we see her sort of open back up again.
And you're saying that you're trying to do the same thing in your life right now.
Because I think for me and for Sam, it's like, you know, if you're somebody that does struggle with self worth, every time you meet somebody, you're like, they're going to see the cracks.
Yeah, totally. Or that they'll just see what I don't like about myself.
Of course. You know, and I think Sam feels that way.
So she's like, I've got this person that makes me feel good, this person makes me feel safe.
And that was why it was so devastating in season one while her sister died, because her sister loved her warts and all, you know, and Joel, he loves her warts and all.
And, you know, I think it's just something that not everybody walks into a room and thinks people are going to like him.
Yeah, yeah. Maybe most people don't.
I really don't know.
I don't think most people do.
I certainly don't. But you're so right.
In season three, this current season of Somebody Somewhere, we see that sort of protective shield start to crack in the best way.
Yeah. And she's terrified, but she does it anyway, which is the theme of the season, is growth against all odds.
And I think that that is that.
Is that something you said in the writers room, growth against all odds?
It is. And I do have the necklace now.
And I'm not wearing it right now.
Wait, stop. You should have worn it.
Wait, is it a necklace that says growth against all odds?
It's GAO. I have on one necklace.
I also have a golden toilet, which is obviously from season two.
And then from season one, I have a one because I'm number one on the call sheet and I was like, this may never happen again.
So I'm buying myself a necklace.
I am so sad that you didn't wear all three.
I know. I normally do.
But I just I don't know.
I don't know why I didn't do it today.
I was you know, I got my day started kind of early.
You got a lot of things going on.
I also want to say I love it.
There's a lot of acronyms.
I'm realizing no new people, NNP.
There's AGG. There's all glory to God, which is something that kind of goes by pretty quick.
But but I talk that way.
That's that's kind of my you're an acronym gal.
Yeah. DDHD is my theme.
You know, I got that from Elo Cool J Dreams Don't Have Deadlines.
This is such a fun thing to figure out about you.
Murray Hill and I text each other every day.
RFB Ready for Bed. Murray Hill also stars on the show as as friend.
I love Ready for Bed.
RFB. You've talked a bit about the relationship between Sam and her best friend Joel, played by Jeff Hiller.
For people who have not had the pleasure of seeing somebody somewhere, how would you explain who Sam and Joel are to each other?
It's a friendship, but there's there's so much more there.
Yeah, I think, you know, Sam has lost her sister and it was everything to her.
And then Joel kind of sneaks in and he's so undeniable.
He's so charismatic and charming and he's got a smile just like everyone else.
Yeah. And he's got a great giggle and and he's kind and she's kind of like a little like a little more of an edge.
Yeah. Most importantly, there's a really wonderful warm chemistry between the two of them.
Yeah. And and even when she kind of gets reactive or reactionary, he still loves her.
He's not going to dump her, which she thinks that he's going to do so.
And and she's so, you know, she's such a raw nerve and and I don't know, just the way that Joel takes care of her is very moving to me.
And what I love about the relationship is, you know, sometimes you don't expect that you're going to meet such a central relationship to your life in your 40s.
And I think that's incredible.
It goes against the NNP, no new people.
But I just I just love it.
And I also love that it's it's a real primary thing for Sam, like her friends are her people.
Right. And it's not like she's looking for a romantic love.
She's she's looking for her person.
And and that's kind of what she is finding.
And Joel. Yeah. Her person.
I mean, I think it's a really I don't know if I I'll say like kind of radical reframe the idea that your person can be a friend.
Absolutely. And it doesn't mean you can't have, you know, romantic relationships and you can't have a couple of rolls of hay and a little, you know, a little smooshy smooch in the alley after a couple drinks at a bar.
But but I think that for me, it was really important that this show be about the friendship and not about like girl meets boy boy in the way that, you know, you meet a guy and you know, all of a sudden he thinks you're beautiful.
You fall in love in that way.
This is a different kind of love, which is, you know, why I love the essay that we're going to be talking about later.
But yeah. Yeah. And we're going to go to the essay reading in just a bit.
But before we do, I want to talk about a moment on the show that I think is the epitome of this kind of love between friends that you're talking about early in this new season.
Sam helps Joel's boyfriend, whose name is Brad, write a love song as a as a secret surprise for Joel.
And first of all, that's already a nice enough gesture from Sam, but it means even more because we've seen her really struggle with the fact that Joel is now in a couple and isn't around for her as much.
Can you tell us what happens when they're all at the party and Brad gets up to sing this love song for Joel?
Yeah. The character of Brad played by the wonderful and underutilized Tim Bagley.
That's Joel's boyfriend.
The play's Joel's boyfriend gets up to sing the song and he loves Joel, but he hasn't really been able to hurt or had the need to say that publicly and he's doing it in front of Joel's friends and his church friends.
And as soon as he starts to try to speak, he's so overwhelmed and it reminds me of a very it's a very Midwestern thing and probably other places too.
But when my brother did the toast at his daughter's wedding, he was like, OK, I just want to.
And he like it's just like you do that thing like and he couldn't talk.
It was just like, you know, when you got a huge emotion is caught in the throat.
Oh, that's exactly the thing when it's too much.
And and what I love about it is like that Sam is right there with him and she's like, I'm going to help you get through this because she knows what it's going to mean to Joel.
And she jumps in and she starts singing for him.
Yeah, she knows how special Joel is.
And so anytime that she can communicate that, share that, especially through music, she's going to do it.
Bridget, would you mind if you want it would be amazing to hear like a line.
But I don't know if you're prepared to sing today.
Um, do you like the beginning of the song?
I would love. OK, sure.
I wake in the morning and I see your face.
I'm the luckiest guy in the entire human race.
A cup of coffee or a trip to the store.
I'll take forever and then I'll take some more.
But oh, the way you look at me, I can't explain it, but I know it's love.
Oh, love, love. That's first one.
Oh, my God. Don't do this to me right now.
I don't know. It is so God, and you wrote these lyrics.
It is so simple and it's perfect.
Of course, this is a love song, ostensibly for one man to another man, between two men who love each other.
But also, I don't know.
But it's also Sam's love for Joel.
And the way that she's looking at him.
Absolutely. I 100 percent agree.
Thank you so much for singing that.
I really feel grateful to be in the room when you do that.
I'm serious. OK, that is, that's tough act to follow.
You are also here to do us another favor, which is to read a Modern Love essay.
Do you want to say anything about this essay before you get into it, why you chose it?
Well, I chose it because the title, When Your Greatest Romance is a Friendship, because it's something that I can relate to.
And I read it. I thought it was such a sweet and moving examination of two people, not romantically linked.
I don't know. I just thought it was really special.
We'll be back in just a minute with Bridget Everett reading today's Modern Love essay.
Stay with us. I'm Michael Gold.
I'm a political correspondent for The New York Times.
My job is to cover the race for president this year.
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You're getting fast information, but you know that it's reliable.
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Okay, Bridget, you are about to read a Modern Love essay for us by the novelist Victor Lodato whenever you're ready.
When your greatest romance is a friendship.
Is this your grandson?
People sometimes ask Austin when she's out with me.
No, honey, he's my friend.
At this point, folks usually smile tightly and turn away, perhaps worried there's more than friendship going on between the old lady and the younger man seated at the bar giggling like teenagers.
Why we're giggling?
I couldn't tell you.
Often our mirth seems fueled by some deep -celled delight at being together.
When I met Austin, I was in my early forties and not looking for a friend.
I'd come alone to this small Oregon town to finish a book.
So when a bony blue -eyed stranger knocked at my door, introducing herself as a lady from across the way and wondering if I might like to come over and see her garden, maybe have a gin and tonic, I politely declined.
Watching her walk away, though, in her velvet slip -ons and wrinkled blouse, I felt a strange pang, a slow pin of sadness that I suppose could be best described as loneliness.
Suddenly, I was dashing into the dirt road to say that I was sorry that she had caught me in the middle of work, but that, yes, I would enjoy seeing her garden.
Not the gin and tonic, she said.
Oh, sure, that too, I answered blessing.
And before I could suggest a visit the next week, she said, so, I'll see you in a few hours then, shall we say four -thirty?
I had to admire her sense of time.
Next week is for someone who can afford to put things off.
Austin, in her eighties, surely felt no such luxury.
I liked your face, she admitted later, telling me she had spotted me at the mailbox.
As she poured the gin, I told her that I had seen her at the mailbox as well, and I liked her face, too.
I wish I had better eyebrows, she said.
They used to be fabulous.
Her garden was astounding, like something dreamed rather than planted, a mad hatter gothic in which the lawless grace prevailed.
At dusk, the deer arrived, nibbling the crabapple blossoms.
We had been talking for hours, slightly tipsy, and then we were in the kitchen cooking dinner.
A retired psychologist, Austin had traveled extensively, spoke terrible Spanish and worse French, and was a painter now.
She had two husbands, the second of whom died in this house, in a small bed in the living room.
That's what I'll do, Austin told me.
This room gets the best light.
We turned to the windows, but the light was already gone.
That we could be quiet together so soon, and without strain, felt auspicious.
So you've run away from home, she said at one point.
There was something about our interaction that reminded me of friendships from my childhood, in which no question was off limits.
On religion, she claimed to be an atheist.
I admitted to being haunted by the ghosts of a Roman Catholic upbringing.
She said her sisters believed in hell and worried about her soul.
Austin, though, seemed afraid of nothing, least of all death.
I said I was still afraid of the dark.
Living alone, she said, it can make you funny.
I laughed, but changed the subject, telling her I would like to see her paintings.
Later, crossing the road back to my Craigslist sublet, I wondered what I was doing.
I reminded myself of my plan, hiding out, staying in the dream of the book.
I wasn't here to socialize.
I could finish a draft in a few months and head back home.
Besides, if I wanted a friend during my retreat, I would find someone my age to throw back beers with, gin and tonics with an old lady in her garden, and that was not the plan.
But there I was the next weekend having dinner with her, and then it was every weekend.
Austin's older friends seemed confused.
Is he helping you with a computer?
One asked. When I first started talking about Austin to my out -of -town friends, they assumed I'd found a new boyfriend.
Austin's a woman, I would say.
Besides, she's in her 80s.
She's just a pal. Even as they replied, that's cool, I could almost hear them thinking, must be Slim Pickens out in Oregon.
What was perplexing, I suppose, was not that two people of such different ages had become friends, but that we had essentially become best friends.
Others regarded our devotion as either strange or quaint, like one of those unlikely animal friendships.
A monkey and a pigeon, perhaps.
Admittedly, when I would spot us in a mirror, I saw how peculiar we were.
This vivacious, white -haired imp in her bright colors and chunky -style jewelry, sitting with a dark -haired man in his drab, earth -tone sweaters and Clark Kent glasses.
Maybe I looked like some nerdy gigolo or this woman's attentive secretary.
If we made no sense from the outside, it didn't matter.
We were mostly looking at each other.
One night, Austin chatted about her life as a middle -aged wife in academia.
I completely missed out on the wildness of the sixties, she said.
I told her I'd missed out too.
You weren't born yet, she said, or hardly.
Often we cooked together as we had that first night, after which she would show me whatever painting she was working on.
At her request, I also started reading to her from my book in progress.
We gave each other feedback, our work improved.
When my six -month lease was up, I renewed it.
The novel wasn't finished, plus I couldn't imagine a better neighbor.
Before I knew it, three years had passed.
I was writing seven days a week and spending most evenings with Austin.
Sometimes she had spells of vertigo now, and when we walked together, she held my arm.
Often she couldn't find the right word for something.
When she wanted to keep away visitors so she could paint, she hung a sign on her studio door.
Do not destroy. Soon the headaches came and more jumbled language.
I need to screw my calls, she said, meaning she needed to screen them.
We laughed, then sobered.
Tests were scheduled.
Now she is eight months into what the doctors say is a quick ravaging illness deep in her brain.
They say there is no stopping it.
A year more if she's lucky.
Even as I refuse to believe this, I prepare for it.
How? By keeping my promise to her.
A few months before her diagnosis, Austin had attended a wedding.
She showed me a copy of the vows, which had been distributed at the ceremony.
A detailed list. I read it carefully at Austin's bidding.
We were sitting in a car waiting for our favorite Thai restaurant to open.
I never had anything like that with the men in my life, she said, pointing to the vows.
We loved each other, but we didn't have that.
She was crying now, something she rarely did.
I took her hand and said, well, you have it with me.
Everything but the sex.
At which point, the monkey kissed the pigeon.
That night, I had an odd realization.
Some of the greatest romances of my life have been friendships.
And these friendships have been, in many ways, more mysterious than erotic love, more subtle, less selfish, more attuned to kindness.
Of course, Austin was going to die long before I did.
That's not what this is about.
This, I have come to understand, is a love story.
Austin continued to paint for several months more, fractured psychedelic self -portraits and scorching colors, her best work.
Lately, though, she is tired and hardly leaves the couch.
I sit with her at the opposite end, our legs intertwined.
Read to me, she says.
When I tell her the book is finished, she tells me to read her something new.
But whenever I do, she promptly falls asleep.
I don't leave, though.
I stare out the window.
Austin was right. This room does get the best light.
Recently, her hair is thinned, but she has a shock of white up front that a friend's daughter has died with a streak of fuchsia.
She looks like some punk girl I might have dated in high school.
She had a bit more energy the last time I came to visit and said, Oh, Victor, I had the most wonderful dessert today.
Peaches and Connecticut.
Have you ever had it?
No, I said, smiling.
I love the idea of it.
Two things that don't seem to go together.
Monkeys and pigeons.
Peaches and Connecticut.
Unlikely, yes. But delicious beyond measure.
Such a beautiful, beautiful essay.
Tell me your thoughts.
How did that feel to to read?
Well, I. You know, I think that for me, as I mentioned before, you know, when you read about great loves, it's always seems to be about a romantic relationship.
And I just. I just love that these are two people that have found each other.
And. And they just.
And they're the one for each other.
I don't know. I think what's so great about this relationship is they just sort of slip into kind of a life together.
And and I and I don't know, I just I.
I want that. Yeah. I'm surrounded by people in romantic relationships and.
And it's not what I'm looking for, at least not right now.
And so when I see somebody that finds first of all, it gives me hope that you can always.
Find somebody they may not look what you think.
Look like what you think you're going to what you're going to want or what you're going to need.
It reminds me to stay open.
You know, the part where they talk about sitting on the couch and their legs intertwine is like to have that kind of intimacy with somebody without the expectation of a romances.
It's just it just hits me right in my heart.
I don't know. I'm moved and I have this new neighbor and she's she's great.
And I can tell that she really misses the person that lived there before me.
And not that she's Austin or anything like that, but I just think about the possibility of keeping yourself open.
And and not running away from it because look at the great reward.
Look at the great reward between Victor and Austin.
And it is a thing is just like when all your friends are in relationships, you sort of and you're like nobody's emergency contact.
You know, it it it can feel a little lonely and but there are other people out there that might be the same and looking for this.
You know, there might be a lid for my pot.
I hate that expression.
But you know, maybe maybe my my lid comes in the version of a lady with some comfortable slip on shoes.
Check me out of my mailbox.
Your new neighbor. I was going to say that the fact that you are keeping yourself open to this friendship with with your neighbor lady.
No, I'm trying. You're trying.
But that's breaking the no new people rule.
You're breaking the no new people rule, which is beautiful and amazing and brave and human and all of those things.
Yeah. And I just love that.
She's like OK, for 30, you know, like she's she's bringing him in and what she say, you know, you don't have the luxury, you know, like later is for people who have time, and and honestly, like the amount of loss I've experienced over the last few years, it's we don't always have time.
Yeah. You know, I have the gin and tonic.
Have the gin and tonic while you can.
Absolutely. We'll be right back.
You know, you're speaking about this neighbor and I want to ask, too, like reading this essay, obviously the friendship between Victor and Austin feels very similar to the or not similar, but it reminds me that as resonances of the friendship between Sam, your character and somebody somewhere and Joel,
her best friend. And I wonder, too, like, is there anyone in your real life where you read this essay and you're thinking about, you know, this friend?
Um, specifically, no, I mean, there's somebody when it comes to Joel that reminds me, you know, I did have what I thought was this person and then, you know, they they and they're still, you know, we're still very close, you know, still one of my best friends.
But, you know, but I miss that, you know, because then, you know, he's in a relationship now and it just changes and Sam says that to Joel, like, it's never going to it's not going to be the same.
It doesn't mean that you can't that we know we still have a very valuable relationship, but but I just think this was that.
Huh. And it changed and it changed.
You know, it's so interesting that you say it's okay.
Yeah, I was going to say, how did you?
Yeah, of course, it's okay.
And it's awful when it did.
I want it. It's so interesting what you're saying because as much as you're willing to share, I feel like that's something I can relate to.
I think many listeners can relate to it and you said it's really freaking hard.
How did you get through that?
Like, what did you tell yourself?
I mean, it took me a long time.
I was really reactive, you know, reactionary and immature and like, but he he.
And, you know, at first they kind of disappeared together and that and that's also okay.
Like I understand both sides of it, like why why you want to get lost in a in a romantic relationship.
And you know, you think your friends are always going to be there, but I've kind of always been that person for people.
I've always kind of been like, she'll be there.
And after a while you start to kind of it, it affects you and like it's like, you don't want to feel like the second or third string, you know, just like you can't help but feel that way.
But I also don't think that that just because somebody's in a romantic relationship that that means that you can't be a folk, you know, am I'm trying to think.
Yeah, a focal point in their life.
Yeah, you're not the only one anymore.
Yeah. And so you have to kind of acclimate and adjust and and and sometimes you need your friend to let you know that that you know, they have this new wonderful romantic relationship and great and and I am I am happy for my friend and Sam is happy for Joel.
But like, you know, sometimes you need to know that you matter, you know.
It's accepting that you might not always be as primary to someone as they are to you.
And the truth is a lot of my friendships are like, you know, if I asked them to do something and they're like, well, let me check with, you know, so and so first.
And I understand that you have a life together, of course, but it does make if everybody's around these kind of like that thing, you start to feel like, well, I'm just like, yeah, you know, I'm here when it's convenient for other people.
And it hurts. Yeah.
So seeing something like this is like, it just is it's a dream and it gives me a lot of hope.
I love what you said that, you know, I asked you, what can you do as the friend who feels like the the backup or or whatever.
And what you said is it's really good for them to let you know you matter.
It's to be reminded.
It feels like it's always up to the person that's like unattached, that's unattached to kind of adapt and sort of in and you you do and you should obviously.
Yeah. But I don't know.
I'm probably being selfish, but I do not think you're being selfish at all.
I mean, there's not all these people in refresh.
Yeah. Put it on. Be like I said it.
No. But I think that's so it's kind of a perfect distillation.
I mean, a simple one, but I think a true one of what friendship can be.
It's just looking someone in eyes and saying you matter.
You matter to me. You will always matter to me.
Yeah. That feels to me like that is what friendship is.
And I think there's something like that happens in this season with Sam and Joel and Mike and and she needs it.
Yeah. Can you describe a moment where you really felt sure that you matter to a friend?
Like, was there something someone did or said where you felt that?
Yeah, I think my friends know that I.
You know, they. They tell me they love me.
I know. I know that I know that they they do, but it's also up to me to hear it.
You know, and that's.
But what do you mean by that?
Well, I mean. I have to be able to take it in.
You know, it's a. It's challenging sometimes.
Yeah. I was just with Mary Catherine who plays Tricia, my sister on the show and love her roommates.
And you know, and she said something to me.
She's like, she's like, you know, I love you.
Right. And I was like, it's like, you know, it had a couple margarini's and I was like, don't don't try to unpack my.
Me right now. But she's, you know, she's a great friend and she's always done a lot.
My friend Zach has really invested a lot of time into making me hear it.
So. And I think that's kind of the most important part that you have to.
You have to let it in.
Yeah, it's not easy.
You know what I'm thinking, too, with with, you know, people have expectations when we get older and we enter into romantic relationships that like friendship will become less important.
Right. It's just like lower down on the hierarchy.
It's less important than, you know, your spouse or your kids or your job or whatever.
A whole host of things.
Right. How can we cultivate close friendships in our adulthood when there's so much else competing for our time or for our friend's time?
I don't know. I don't know.
I yeah, I guess that the you know, my dream is to to be to have a central, you know, be central in a friend's life again.
And and I don't know, I just I love all my friends.
I don't want to listen like it.
I don't want them to listen this and think any anything, you know, less than that.
But when my friends are making me a priority.
It matters. Yeah, because it is like all those things you say, like there's just life sweeps people up and and sometimes the friendships, you know, they become a backseat and and it's not that way for Sam and Joel.
And that's what I love.
I feel like it's a fantasy.
And it's so true that it's it's so clear rather that it's it's not that way for you.
And I think, I mean, not together, you know, but cheesy with it.
But I think there are a lot of people who feel that way about friendships.
And I do think that somebody somewhere helps those people feel very seen and I say those those stories are we have so many romantic comedies where it's, you know, girl meets guy or girl meets girl guy meets guy, whatever.
But it's romantic love and the connective thing about your show is that that love story is a is a friendship and learning to and and that it is central.
But but it's also just then how you can both go about your lives with with keeping each other at the at the forefront, you know, at the core.
Yeah. My final question, you near the end of this essay, Victor tells Austin that their relationship has everything but sex and he realizes that quote, the greatest romances of my life have been friendships.
What do you think about the idea of using romance?
To describe a friendship that word does it work?
Do we need better words?
I say that all the time.
I'm like, you know, with Sam and Joel, like they, they fall in love with each other.
And and I, it is a romance is like you can you can get swept off your feet by a friend and you don't have just because you know, there's there may not be the sex involved.
You are in love with them in some degree.
Bridget Everett, thank you so much.
This was such a lovely and affirming conversation.
I really appreciate you.
I appreciate you having me in.
Don't miss Bridget Everett in season three of Somebody Somewhere now streaming on Max and you can find a link to Victor Lodato's essay when your greatest romance is a friendship in our show notes.
Modern Love is produced by Reva Goldberg, Davis Land, Emily Lang and Amy Pearl.
It's edited by Lynn Levy and our executive producer, Jen Poyant.
Production management by Christina Joseph.
The Modern Love theme music is by Dan Powell, original music in this episode by Rowan Nimisto, Dan Powell, Amun Sahota and Diane Wong.
This episode was mixed by Daniel Ramirez with studio support from Maddie Masiello and Nick Pittman.
Special thanks to Mahima Choblani, Nell Gologli and Jeffrey Miranda and to our video team Brooke Minters, Sawyer Roque and Eddie Costas.
The Modern Love column is edited by Daniel Jones.
Mia Lee is the editor of Modern Love Projects.
If you want to submit an essay or a tiny love story to The New York Times, we've got the instructions in our show notes.
I'm Anna Martin. Thanks for listening.
Thanks for watching.
