In Defense of Lena Dunham and My Met Gala-style Anecdote for the Ages

Lena Dunham recently apologized for statements she made in a conversation with Amy Schumer that ran in The Lenny Letter (the online fanzine Dunham helps run about Leni Riefenstahl, Lenny from Of Mice And Men and Lenny of Lenny & Squiggy fame) about NFL player and handsome man Odell Beckham Jr., who she was seated with at a recent Met Gala.

Some found it problematic for Dunham to pontificate about what she thought Beckham might have been thinking about her sexual desirability, or lack thereof, especially as her thoughts are pure conjecture, and Beckham apparently didn’t speak to Dunham at all.

Dunham has apologized. I think that is wrong. Because in her chat with Schumer, Dunham described a scenario so remarkable, unusual and important that it must be discussed: what it’s like to be near an attractive stranger and not have them try to have sex with you.

That kind of stuff doesn’t happen very often, but I can recall two or three times when it’s happened to me. A few years back, for example, I interviewed Alison Brie and Lizzy Caplan in person at Sundance in connection with their film Save The Date. Oh sure, the piece that ran dutifully recorded my questions and their answers.

Yet it completely, and to my mind, unforgivably, ignored the elephant in the room and the most remarkable aspect of the experience: Brie and Caplan’s complete disinterest in me sexually. Seriously. It would not be an exaggeration to say that our entire exchange was about them promoting their movie and not them trying to lure me into a nearby bathroom for a threesome.

It was so amazing because it was like Caplan and Brie looked at me and determined I was not their sexual ideal by their standards. They were like, “Oh, it’s a poorly dressed midwestern film critic. That’s a forgettable tub of mediocrity. That’s a schmuck. That’s a dog.” I was like, “Whoa! Apparently kosher salami isn’t their meat of choice! I guess I’m not ‘attractive’ or ‘successful’ enough for them to see me solely as a sexual object.”

The vibe wasn’t even, ‘Do I want to fuck it?’ It was more like, “Oh, this must be our 12:15 interview. I should answer his questions and be pleasant and entertaining so people will want to see Save The Date.” At no point did either woman lock eyes with me and place their hand on my knee suggestively before moving it further up my crotch as the interview continued.

Nor did either woman seductively unbutton her shirt or wink at me. Nothing about their aura even vaguely said, “Oh, this guy coined the phrase Manic Pixie Dream Girl. I should give him a handjob.” They didn’t seem to see me as anything other than a writer doing his job, let alone a sexual dynamo they both had to seduce immediately.

It was like we were only sitting together because I was interviewing them, and they literally were just answering the questions that I was asking them rather than trying to have sex with me. It was, honestly, one of the strangest and most inexplicable experiences I’ve had not just as a writer but as a human being.

I mean, sure, you could argue that it’s out of place, and crazily narcissistic and self-absorbed to even imagine that either Brie or Caplan would think of me in a sexual way, or not think of me in a sexual way. Yet I think it’s important to document for posterity every time someone you find attractive doesn’t seem to want to have sex with you. And it’s important not just to chronicle these astonishing moments for history’s sake. It’s also important to chronicle what you think might have been going on in their minds while said non-sexual tension was happening. Oh sure, you might think that’s unimportant, inessential and besides the point.

I feel so differently that I am going to go back through every experience I’ve ever had where an attractive woman didn’t want to have sex with me and write about what they were probably thinking. And now that I really think about it, looking back over the 40 years I’ve been alive, there may have actually been more than three or four instances of it, but I vow to write about them all. It will be hard work, but it’s necessary. You’re welcome.