I am very connected to Tom Cruise. It all began when I saw his 2002 masterpiece Minority Report in theaters as an 11-year-old. But my love for Tom really cemented itself three years later when I watched him debut his love for his new chosen partner, Katie Holmes, on Oprah. The whole episode was a baffling tribute to the star, who was ostensibly there to promote War of the Worlds but instead infamously jumped on Oprah’s couch because he was so happy to be alive, to be with Oprah, to be in love. In retrospect he didn’t act that crazy. The crowd was really excited, but I guess that’s not the point of this blog. In any case, it was formative for me — I was hooked on Tom.
My love for Cruise has not waned, even after I once skimmed through Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief at an Airbnb, mostly looking for mentions of Tom in the book’s index. Sure, he can be seen as crazy, or even allegedly “complicit in a murderous conspiracy” depending on who you believe, but you don’t give up on someone you love because they’re passionate in a different way than you are. Wouldn’t that be awful?
Today, the UK Sun reported that Cruise and his on-and-off partner of two years, actress Hayley Atwell, have broken up. First of all, I never thought they were dating. Perhaps they bonded over the pandemic, organically or not, while shooting two Mission Impossible movies. Either way, now they are no longer together despite having “fantastic chemistry,” according to one of the Sun’s many good-faith sources. This makes me sad. I believe Cruise is perhaps the loneliest man in America. His only love is cinema, but he still needs someone to pretend to be in a relationship with.
This is why I volunteer to be Tom Cruise’s “girlfriend.” I am a single, almost 31-year-old woman who many people believe is 25. My biggest qualification is that I am not sexually attracted to Cruise, but I deeply understand him and his situation. I am as tall as his ex-wife, Nicole Kidman, whom he famously called “Nic,” so maybe he can come up with a shortened version of my name too (“Sa,” maybe). I am totally fine with whatever arrangement he’s into, because I know it will not be physical. I will gladly work out with him, or not eat sugar in solidarity with his training regimen. I will laugh at something he says at a restaurant or attend premieres with him in an outfit the Daily Mail can describe as “bold.” And one to two years later, I’ll go back to my quiet life, changed for the better.