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I once 1）fondled Angelina Jolie’s elbow.
This was back in the early 2000s， when I was a writer for Entertainment Weekly. I had flown to Montreal， where Ms. Jolie was shooting 2）Taking Lives， to interview her over lunch for a cover story.
While I watched the star slice into a bloody steak at a five-star hotel restaurant， she told me how she had chipped a bone in her elbow doing a stunt， and the tiny bone chip kept migrating under her skin. Then she put down her knife and fork， took my hand in hers， and invited me to squeeze and 3）pinch her arm to see if I could find it.
I nearly fainted.
Of course， millions of men fall in love with movie stars every day， but usually from the safety of a theater seat. As an entertainment journalist I didn’t just rub elbows， I occasionally fondled them.
Over the past 20 years， I’ve sat in restaurants and engaged in conversation—what in another context might be called a date—with 4）Michelle Pfeiffer， 5）Halle Berry， Nicole Kidman， Julia Roberts and many others. It was one of the best parts of the job， meeting such women and watching them chew， but it was also， frankly， one of the most challenging. It totally 6）fouled me up when it came to real dates with unfamous women.
Actors are professional charmers. They also have a 7）vested interest in making journalists like them. And to a young reporter starting out， and even to a seasoned veteran， it can be 8）heady stuff， having a star flirt with you. Sometimes， that thin line can get awfully blurry.
For instance， I did go on one real date with a star I interviewed. At least I considered it a real date. I won’t tell you her name because I don’t want to embarrass anyone other than myself. But when I first interviewed her at a coffee shop on Sunset Boulevard on a drizzly afternoon two decades ago， just as she was breaking out， I thought she was the most Bambilike creature ever to wander into Hollywood. I was so smitten I went home and wrote a profile that， between the lines， all but begged her to go out with me.
And she did！ After the article appeared she phoned—well， her publicist did—to thank me and invite me to dinner. We met at an Italian restaurant in Brentwood and she was every bit as charmingly vulnerable as during our interview.
But I began to notice that Bambi had a few issues.
“I know this is going to sound weird，” she confessed during the meal， “but I have a phobia about talking on telephones. I’m working on it， I’m getting help， but you should know about it， in case you ever try to call me.” She said it with such pained sincerity， I couldn’t help but nod. And for the first time， it dawned on me that dating a celebrity might be a bit of a nightmare. I called the next day and left a voice mail message thanking her for the date and requesting another. When she didn’t call back， I tried calling a few days later. Then again. And again. Until it dawned on me I was phone-stalking a celebrity who had confessed to having a phobia of phones.
That “real” celebrity date definitely gave me a deeper appreciation for the nonfamous women in my life. I came to realize the advantages of normal dating. For one thing， I didn’t have to jot down a lot of questions to ask before arriving at the restaurant. For another， I discovered that all the time I spent talking to famous strangers had given me good skills for romantic socializing. Most men try to impress women by talking about themselves. Thanks to my job， I learned a better way. Ask a lot of questions and — this is critical — listen to the answers. Even unfamous women， it turns out， really like that.
From time to time， I found myself in longterm relationships （some of them for whole months at a stretch）. But movie stars still came between us. Girlfriends would become insecure whenever they knew I was about to interview a starlet， jokingly hinting that they might show up at the restaurant to keep an eye on me.
I would wave away their concerns， explaining how interviewing stars was simply part of my job， that I was as professionally detached as a doctor. But 9）in retrospect， they may have been right to be jealous. Because I still got a rush from dining with famous actresses. I still got a buzz from the pretend flirting and the faux intimacy and the fake seduction of the celebrity interview. I enjoyed it so much， I felt guilty when I got back home. It felt as if I had been unfaithful.
In a way， maybe I had.
In romantic comedies， there’s a perfect woman for every man， and they always manage to find each other. But as I entered my 40s， still a bachelor， I had to accept the fact that my skewed idea of perfection was ruining my life. Except that’s when I met the perfect woman.
This was in Prague， in the spring of 2002， while visiting the set of an action movie called 10）XXX. I had been on the sound stage no more than 15 or 20 minutes， just long enough to watch Vin Diesel blow up a terrorist 11）bunker with a 12）bazooka， when I spotted her： a gorgeous woman with honey-blond hair and green eyes， sitting on top of boxes of sound equipment， reading a thick Czech book.
With those cheekbones， I assumed she had a part in the movie. So I turned to the film’s publicist and asked if I could interview her.
“She’s not an actress，” he said， rolling his eyes. “She’s a translator.”
I interviewed her anyway. Repeatedly. During long walks around Old Town Square and across the Charles Bridge and over sips of 13）Becherovka inside Prague cafes. She had a sexy Slavic accent right out of a Bond film， but as a translator her English was flawless， even if she did occasionally mangle an 14）aphorism（“Ugh， I am like an 15）elephant in Chinatown！”she said after spilling her drink）.
Sitting across a table from her， I got the same dizzying high that usually happened only with my celebrity dates. But this time there were no fake intimacies or phony familiarities. We just talked about books and movies and music and growing up in our different countries. Over dinner， she playfully taught me the Czech words for knife and fork and salt and pepper. After dinner， she taught me the Czech word for kiss.
We’ve been married now for almost 10 years. Sometimes， when I’m really lucky， she even lets me fondle her elbow.
我曾经抚摸过安吉丽娜·朱莉的手肘。
那是本世纪初期的事情了，当时我还是《娱乐周刊》的一名撰稿人。我搭乘飞机到加拿大的蒙特利尔，准备在午餐时为朱莉小姐做一篇封面故事采访，那时她正在当地拍摄电影《机动杀人》。
我看着这位明星在一家五星级酒店的餐厅里切着一块血淋淋的牛扒，她告诉我她是如何在一次特技表演时摔碎了手肘里的一块骨头，而那块小碎骨一直在她的皮肤底下游移。接着，她放下手中的刀叉，抓起我的手，邀请我捏一捏她的手臂，看能否找到那块碎骨。
我几乎都要晕厥过去了。
无可否认，每天都有数百万男人爱上电影明星，可是他们都是安安稳稳地坐在电影院的座位上。作为一名娱乐记者，我不仅常与明星们摩肘擦踵，偶尔还真会摸起他们的手肘来。
过去20年来，我曾坐在餐厅里和米歇尔·菲佛、哈莉·贝瑞、妮可·基德曼、茱莉亚·罗伯茨，还有许多其他女明星谈天说地—换个方式说，也算是在约会。那是我这份工作其中一个最棒之处，约见这些女士，欣赏她们咀嚼食物，不过坦白地说，这同时也是最具挑战性的一点。我会因此搞砸自己真正的约会，完全不懂怎样和非名人女子约会。
演员们擅长施展自己的魅力。赢得新闻工作者的青睐对他们也定然有好处。而对于一个刚入行的记者，甚至对于一个经验丰富的老手来说，明星对自己抛媚眼是挺令人心眩神迷的一件事。有时候，那细微的界线会变得十分模糊。
例如，我确实与其中一位我曾经采访过的女明星真正约会过。至少我认为那是一场真正的约会。我不会公开她的名字，因为除了自己，我不想让任何人难堪。然而，20年前，某个细雨迷蒙的午后，我在日落大道一家咖啡厅里第一次采访她，就在她开口说话时，我就觉得她是好莱坞里最像小鹿斑比的人物。我被她彻底迷倒了，回家之后，我写下了一篇人物传记，字里行间无不流露出邀请她与我约会的请求。
她真的答应了！文章出版之后，她打电话给我了—好吧，是她的公关助理打的—感谢我并邀请我一同用餐。我们在布伦特伍德的一家意大利餐馆里见面，她就像那次采访时一样散发着柔弱的魅力。
可是，我开始发现斑比也有一些小麻烦。
“我知道这听起来也许很奇怪，”用餐时她坦白地说，“但是我很害怕在电话里聊天。我正在克服，也在寻求帮助，但我要告诉你这一点，以防你想打电话给我。”她说话时是那样痛苦和真诚，我不得不点头应诺。就这样，我第一次意识到，和名人约会也许会是一场噩梦。
第二天，我给她打电话并留了一条语音信息，感谢她与我约会，并再次邀约。眼看她没有回复，几天后我又打了一次。接着打了又打。直到有一天，我才醒悟到自己正在用电话追踪一个曾坦言自己有电话恐惧症的名人。
那次“真正的”名人约会着实让我更懂得欣赏我生命中那些非名人女子。我逐渐意识到普通约会的好处。一方面，我不必在到达餐厅之前先写下一系列想要询问的问题。另一方面，我发现与陌生名人聊天的这些时光让我学到了许多关于恋爱的社交技巧。许多男士为了讨好女士会主动谈论自己。多亏了我的工作，我学到了一个更好的方法。询问很多问题并且—这点很重要—聆听她们的答案。事实证明，即便是不出名的女士，她们也都非常喜欢这样的交谈方式。
有些时候，我发现自己处于长期的恋爱关系之中（有些持续好几个月）。可是电影明星们还是会介入到我们中间。女朋友们知道我将要采访年轻女明星时，总会变得不安，开玩笑地暗示她们也会去餐厅以便好好看着我。
我会消除她们的担忧，解释说采访明星只是我工作的一部分，我和医生一样专业，不会掺入私人感情。不过反省一下，她们的妒忌也不无道理。因为在与著名女演员用餐时，我依然心潮澎湃。采访中，明星们那些佯装调情、虚情亲昵、假意诱惑，依然让我陶醉其中。我十分享受，回家之后却深感歉疚，感觉就像做了出轨的事情一样。
从某种程度上说，也许我真的出轨了。
在爱情喜剧里，每个男人都有一个完美的女人，他们总能找到对方。然而，当我步入不惑之年，我却依然形单影只，我不得不接受现实，我那些关于完美主义的歪理毁掉了我的人生。直至我遇到我的完美情人。
事情发生在2002年春天的布拉格，那时我正在探访动作电影《极限特工》的剧组人员。走进摄影棚才不到15或者20分钟，时间仅仅够看完范·迪塞尔用一枚火箭炮炸掉一处恐怖分子的燃料库，我就注意到她了：一位金发碧眼的美人，坐在音响设备的箱子上面，读着一本厚厚的捷克语图书。
拥有如此美貌，我猜她也是影片的演员之一。于是我转身走向那部电影的公关员，询问我能否采访她。
“她不是演员，”他不以为然地说。“她是一名翻译。”
我还是采访了她。采访了一次又一次。我们走在旧城广场上、走过查尔斯大桥、也在布拉格的咖啡厅里喝冰爵酒促膝长谈。她拥有一副性感的斯拉夫嗓音，就像从《007》电影里走出来一样，然而作为一名翻译，她的英语无可挑剔，即便她偶尔还是会弄错一句格言（“哎，我真是头唐人街的笨象！”她不小心把饮料弄撒之后如是说）。
和她隔着桌子相对而坐，我感受到通常只有在我与明星约会时才会感觉到的眩晕似的兴奋感。不过这一次，没有虚伪的亲昵或者弄虚作假的熟稔。我们只是谈论书籍、电影和音乐，以及各自在不同国家的成长史。用餐时，她调皮地教我说刀叉、盐和胡椒的捷克语。餐后，她教我如何用捷克语说“接吻”。
如今，我们结婚已近十年。有时，如果我足够幸运的话，她甚至还会让我爱抚一下她的手肘。
This was back in the early 2000s， when I was a writer for Entertainment Weekly. I had flown to Montreal， where Ms. Jolie was shooting 2）Taking Lives， to interview her over lunch for a cover story.
While I watched the star slice into a bloody steak at a five-star hotel restaurant， she told me how she had chipped a bone in her elbow doing a stunt， and the tiny bone chip kept migrating under her skin. Then she put down her knife and fork， took my hand in hers， and invited me to squeeze and 3）pinch her arm to see if I could find it.
I nearly fainted.
Of course， millions of men fall in love with movie stars every day， but usually from the safety of a theater seat. As an entertainment journalist I didn’t just rub elbows， I occasionally fondled them.
Over the past 20 years， I’ve sat in restaurants and engaged in conversation—what in another context might be called a date—with 4）Michelle Pfeiffer， 5）Halle Berry， Nicole Kidman， Julia Roberts and many others. It was one of the best parts of the job， meeting such women and watching them chew， but it was also， frankly， one of the most challenging. It totally 6）fouled me up when it came to real dates with unfamous women.
Actors are professional charmers. They also have a 7）vested interest in making journalists like them. And to a young reporter starting out， and even to a seasoned veteran， it can be 8）heady stuff， having a star flirt with you. Sometimes， that thin line can get awfully blurry.
For instance， I did go on one real date with a star I interviewed. At least I considered it a real date. I won’t tell you her name because I don’t want to embarrass anyone other than myself. But when I first interviewed her at a coffee shop on Sunset Boulevard on a drizzly afternoon two decades ago， just as she was breaking out， I thought she was the most Bambilike creature ever to wander into Hollywood. I was so smitten I went home and wrote a profile that， between the lines， all but begged her to go out with me.
And she did！ After the article appeared she phoned—well， her publicist did—to thank me and invite me to dinner. We met at an Italian restaurant in Brentwood and she was every bit as charmingly vulnerable as during our interview.
But I began to notice that Bambi had a few issues.
“I know this is going to sound weird，” she confessed during the meal， “but I have a phobia about talking on telephones. I’m working on it， I’m getting help， but you should know about it， in case you ever try to call me.” She said it with such pained sincerity， I couldn’t help but nod. And for the first time， it dawned on me that dating a celebrity might be a bit of a nightmare. I called the next day and left a voice mail message thanking her for the date and requesting another. When she didn’t call back， I tried calling a few days later. Then again. And again. Until it dawned on me I was phone-stalking a celebrity who had confessed to having a phobia of phones.
That “real” celebrity date definitely gave me a deeper appreciation for the nonfamous women in my life. I came to realize the advantages of normal dating. For one thing， I didn’t have to jot down a lot of questions to ask before arriving at the restaurant. For another， I discovered that all the time I spent talking to famous strangers had given me good skills for romantic socializing. Most men try to impress women by talking about themselves. Thanks to my job， I learned a better way. Ask a lot of questions and — this is critical — listen to the answers. Even unfamous women， it turns out， really like that.
From time to time， I found myself in longterm relationships （some of them for whole months at a stretch）. But movie stars still came between us. Girlfriends would become insecure whenever they knew I was about to interview a starlet， jokingly hinting that they might show up at the restaurant to keep an eye on me.
I would wave away their concerns， explaining how interviewing stars was simply part of my job， that I was as professionally detached as a doctor. But 9）in retrospect， they may have been right to be jealous. Because I still got a rush from dining with famous actresses. I still got a buzz from the pretend flirting and the faux intimacy and the fake seduction of the celebrity interview. I enjoyed it so much， I felt guilty when I got back home. It felt as if I had been unfaithful.
In a way， maybe I had.
In romantic comedies， there’s a perfect woman for every man， and they always manage to find each other. But as I entered my 40s， still a bachelor， I had to accept the fact that my skewed idea of perfection was ruining my life. Except that’s when I met the perfect woman.
This was in Prague， in the spring of 2002， while visiting the set of an action movie called 10）XXX. I had been on the sound stage no more than 15 or 20 minutes， just long enough to watch Vin Diesel blow up a terrorist 11）bunker with a 12）bazooka， when I spotted her： a gorgeous woman with honey-blond hair and green eyes， sitting on top of boxes of sound equipment， reading a thick Czech book.
With those cheekbones， I assumed she had a part in the movie. So I turned to the film’s publicist and asked if I could interview her.
“She’s not an actress，” he said， rolling his eyes. “She’s a translator.”
I interviewed her anyway. Repeatedly. During long walks around Old Town Square and across the Charles Bridge and over sips of 13）Becherovka inside Prague cafes. She had a sexy Slavic accent right out of a Bond film， but as a translator her English was flawless， even if she did occasionally mangle an 14）aphorism（“Ugh， I am like an 15）elephant in Chinatown！”she said after spilling her drink）.
Sitting across a table from her， I got the same dizzying high that usually happened only with my celebrity dates. But this time there were no fake intimacies or phony familiarities. We just talked about books and movies and music and growing up in our different countries. Over dinner， she playfully taught me the Czech words for knife and fork and salt and pepper. After dinner， she taught me the Czech word for kiss.
We’ve been married now for almost 10 years. Sometimes， when I’m really lucky， she even lets me fondle her elbow.
我曾经抚摸过安吉丽娜·朱莉的手肘。
那是本世纪初期的事情了，当时我还是《娱乐周刊》的一名撰稿人。我搭乘飞机到加拿大的蒙特利尔，准备在午餐时为朱莉小姐做一篇封面故事采访，那时她正在当地拍摄电影《机动杀人》。
我看着这位明星在一家五星级酒店的餐厅里切着一块血淋淋的牛扒，她告诉我她是如何在一次特技表演时摔碎了手肘里的一块骨头，而那块小碎骨一直在她的皮肤底下游移。接着，她放下手中的刀叉，抓起我的手，邀请我捏一捏她的手臂，看能否找到那块碎骨。
我几乎都要晕厥过去了。
无可否认，每天都有数百万男人爱上电影明星，可是他们都是安安稳稳地坐在电影院的座位上。作为一名娱乐记者，我不仅常与明星们摩肘擦踵，偶尔还真会摸起他们的手肘来。
过去20年来，我曾坐在餐厅里和米歇尔·菲佛、哈莉·贝瑞、妮可·基德曼、茱莉亚·罗伯茨，还有许多其他女明星谈天说地—换个方式说，也算是在约会。那是我这份工作其中一个最棒之处，约见这些女士，欣赏她们咀嚼食物，不过坦白地说，这同时也是最具挑战性的一点。我会因此搞砸自己真正的约会，完全不懂怎样和非名人女子约会。
演员们擅长施展自己的魅力。赢得新闻工作者的青睐对他们也定然有好处。而对于一个刚入行的记者，甚至对于一个经验丰富的老手来说，明星对自己抛媚眼是挺令人心眩神迷的一件事。有时候，那细微的界线会变得十分模糊。
例如，我确实与其中一位我曾经采访过的女明星真正约会过。至少我认为那是一场真正的约会。我不会公开她的名字，因为除了自己，我不想让任何人难堪。然而，20年前，某个细雨迷蒙的午后，我在日落大道一家咖啡厅里第一次采访她，就在她开口说话时，我就觉得她是好莱坞里最像小鹿斑比的人物。我被她彻底迷倒了，回家之后，我写下了一篇人物传记，字里行间无不流露出邀请她与我约会的请求。
她真的答应了！文章出版之后，她打电话给我了—好吧，是她的公关助理打的—感谢我并邀请我一同用餐。我们在布伦特伍德的一家意大利餐馆里见面，她就像那次采访时一样散发着柔弱的魅力。
可是，我开始发现斑比也有一些小麻烦。
“我知道这听起来也许很奇怪，”用餐时她坦白地说，“但是我很害怕在电话里聊天。我正在克服，也在寻求帮助，但我要告诉你这一点，以防你想打电话给我。”她说话时是那样痛苦和真诚，我不得不点头应诺。就这样，我第一次意识到，和名人约会也许会是一场噩梦。
第二天，我给她打电话并留了一条语音信息，感谢她与我约会，并再次邀约。眼看她没有回复，几天后我又打了一次。接着打了又打。直到有一天，我才醒悟到自己正在用电话追踪一个曾坦言自己有电话恐惧症的名人。
那次“真正的”名人约会着实让我更懂得欣赏我生命中那些非名人女子。我逐渐意识到普通约会的好处。一方面，我不必在到达餐厅之前先写下一系列想要询问的问题。另一方面，我发现与陌生名人聊天的这些时光让我学到了许多关于恋爱的社交技巧。许多男士为了讨好女士会主动谈论自己。多亏了我的工作，我学到了一个更好的方法。询问很多问题并且—这点很重要—聆听她们的答案。事实证明，即便是不出名的女士，她们也都非常喜欢这样的交谈方式。
有些时候，我发现自己处于长期的恋爱关系之中（有些持续好几个月）。可是电影明星们还是会介入到我们中间。女朋友们知道我将要采访年轻女明星时，总会变得不安，开玩笑地暗示她们也会去餐厅以便好好看着我。
我会消除她们的担忧，解释说采访明星只是我工作的一部分，我和医生一样专业，不会掺入私人感情。不过反省一下，她们的妒忌也不无道理。因为在与著名女演员用餐时，我依然心潮澎湃。采访中，明星们那些佯装调情、虚情亲昵、假意诱惑，依然让我陶醉其中。我十分享受，回家之后却深感歉疚，感觉就像做了出轨的事情一样。
从某种程度上说，也许我真的出轨了。
在爱情喜剧里，每个男人都有一个完美的女人，他们总能找到对方。然而，当我步入不惑之年，我却依然形单影只，我不得不接受现实，我那些关于完美主义的歪理毁掉了我的人生。直至我遇到我的完美情人。
事情发生在2002年春天的布拉格，那时我正在探访动作电影《极限特工》的剧组人员。走进摄影棚才不到15或者20分钟，时间仅仅够看完范·迪塞尔用一枚火箭炮炸掉一处恐怖分子的燃料库，我就注意到她了：一位金发碧眼的美人，坐在音响设备的箱子上面，读着一本厚厚的捷克语图书。
拥有如此美貌，我猜她也是影片的演员之一。于是我转身走向那部电影的公关员，询问我能否采访她。
“她不是演员，”他不以为然地说。“她是一名翻译。”
我还是采访了她。采访了一次又一次。我们走在旧城广场上、走过查尔斯大桥、也在布拉格的咖啡厅里喝冰爵酒促膝长谈。她拥有一副性感的斯拉夫嗓音，就像从《007》电影里走出来一样，然而作为一名翻译，她的英语无可挑剔，即便她偶尔还是会弄错一句格言（“哎，我真是头唐人街的笨象！”她不小心把饮料弄撒之后如是说）。
和她隔着桌子相对而坐，我感受到通常只有在我与明星约会时才会感觉到的眩晕似的兴奋感。不过这一次，没有虚伪的亲昵或者弄虚作假的熟稔。我们只是谈论书籍、电影和音乐，以及各自在不同国家的成长史。用餐时，她调皮地教我说刀叉、盐和胡椒的捷克语。餐后，她教我如何用捷克语说“接吻”。
如今，我们结婚已近十年。有时，如果我足够幸运的话，她甚至还会让我爱抚一下她的手肘。