| | On Fame, Morning Breath and My Love "I would hate to be famous" Michael remarked, as I skimmed through a gossip rag. This online columnist was butchering the hair, wardrobe and reputations of Hollywoods most beautiful and successful, a practice I detest. "Why do people get off on putting down others?", I shrugged. Indeed, the press would likely have a field day with me, if they caught a glimpse of the real me first thing in the morning, in my loose-fitting pj's, without makeup, my uncombed hair wrapped atop my head in a sloppy bun and well, morning breath capable of taking down a large animal. Oh yeah, I'm sexy as hell. Pity my husband. He's condemned to a life time of mornings with me.
In all honesty, the media has been nothing but kind to me over the years. Any press I've gotten has been positive. But then, it could be a matter of volume and I'm not exactly in the same league with the Janet Jacksons and Paris Hiltons of the world. I've enjoyed my little bit of notoriety. (Plus, I've told all of my own secrets, which doesn't leave anyone with much of a scoop.) I think that if anyone suffers for my ambitious, forthright, no gutts no glory nature it's my husband. I had in my twenties dated a handful of industry people-actors, models, musicians, people who are not only comfortable in the limelight, they thrive there. But the man I married is a complete unknown. He isn't in the industry and he last thing he ever wants to be is watched. He's the most private, shy, grounded and unspoiled human being I've ever met. Personalitywise we are polar opposites. I'm out there, the ham in any sandwich. I'll talk to anyone and trip over my own feet to make them laugh. He, however, hyperventilates when I start acting up. He starts lookig for somewhere to hide. Now, you sort of have to expect some attention when you're with me, and in the case of a man as striking as Michael, quite a bit of it. He is completely clueless as to how good looking his is. I think if he knew, he'd be dangerous. He's 6 foot tall and slender with jet black hair and burgundy brown eyes. He has full "Angelina Jolie" lips, a German accent and more artistic talent than you can shake a stick at. He's a painter and airbrush artist. He has a small tatoo on his left sholder and when we first met, his had punky blonde streaks in his hair and two tiny gold rings in his ears. And he's five years younger than me, which is not a bad thing. He's too good for me, and I know it.
"Come on", I plead, holding a camera. "Let me take one. People think I made you up." He ducks behind a piece of furniture. He is as elusive as the Sasquatch of legend, only far less hairy. Yes, it's entirely superficial but his being so attractive really gives him an unfair advantage. Like when we are fighting, for example. It's very hard to stay mad at someone you want to constantly molest.
We met online of all places, long before it was the in thing to do. Waaaaay back in 99 in fact. And it was an unintentional match. I had recently separated from my sons father and was still so bitter I'd all but swore off men altogether and he was living in Germany. The desire to be together was something that grew as our friend ship developed, something we never imagined would happen, a dream we never thought we would realize.
But this is my life and stranger things have happened. three hour a night chats became phone calls and then one day, he called and told me he had bought a ticket to come and meet me over the turn of the millenium.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering whether you're the one." he said. I was never so excited and so scared in my life. He'd seen dozens of photos of me from my music and modeling days, but I was older now and living a more domesticated life as a midwest mother. What if he meets the real me and runs screaming back onto the plane, demaning a ticket refund? I worried. What if the chemistry doesn't work in person? It was the mother of blind dates, a tremendous leap of faith I was terrified of disappointing him. as for him, i was already in love and as I told my dear friend Tony Graham, "I don't care if he has a third arm growing out of his back!" (To which, he laughed "You're crazy!" ) Everyone thought we were crazy but we were swept up in the most romantic adventure of our lives.
From the moment he stepped off the plane and smiled in my direction all doubt was gone. There was a rare and beautiful comfort in this love, as though we'd klnown eachother all our lives. He was more wonderful than than words, the sweetest man I'd ever known.
At the end of three weeks he proposed to me. [Should inquiring minds want to know, as they did then, He wasn't asking out of a need for citizenship, as his mother was American and living in France when he was born, having a Belgian father.] I was nervous... It was too soon, I thought.... but the day he left all I did was cry, burying myself in a sweater he left behind..... I called him the next day and told him "YES!" and he screamed so loud he surely woke half of Europe. He spent the next 5 months closing out his apartment, giving his job notice, and traveling all over Germany getting documents neccessary for the move to America. He arrived July 4th, 2000. We were married in Feb of 2001.
It's not been the smoothest ride, but we grow stronger the longer we're married. No one means as much to me, save my son, who since his natural father died has really come to love and look up to Michael.
This afternoon he will be traveling out of town for a few days, which he's done before, but I am as usual, anxious. I miss him already and hope everything goes smoothly and he returns to me quickly and in one piece.
"Give me something to remember you by while you're gone", I tease, snuggling up. "You're bad", he laughs, beet red. And then he does.
I do so love him. |
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home