8th Anniversary Coming Up

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            I married a man no one approved of. How many times have we heard that one before? For me? This is my third time to be exact. Phil and I were just too young to be doing such a permanent thing and David was well, David was too young too – pattern? Maybe. We’re friendly now, mostly because he was the father of my two kids.

            This new one, the third and hopefully last of the husbands, used to came to work with me when we first started dating in 2002.  He would walk around with his hands stuck in his pockets and his shoulders curved in. My co-workers wondered what I saw in this guy. They looked at me askance and then at each other and shook their heads. We’ll say he was reserved rather than shy and humble rather than having no self-esteem. They didn’t see what I saw. When he feels safe in a situation he has some kind of wicked sense of humor. Given half a chance he could have an audience of friends rolling on the floor laughing, wondering what hit them, but that’s only after he gets to know everyone. They, including everyone, would find out later just how funny he is but it took them a while to get there. In the meantime they all questioned my sanity and judgment and chalked it up to the flights and fancies of being an artist.

             “This time she’s into needy nerds,” they’d all say, “what are ya going to do with a geek?”

            My son thought he was okay but my daughter was convinced I should be with a “real” man, someone with flair and pizzazz, someone I’d most likely meet in my business of TV and film, or backpacking in Europe. He would be strong and sexy and have lots of friends and power, a go-getter. Someone that would thrill her mother like Matt Damon, Richard Gere, Antonio Banderas, Russell Crowe or Jeff Bridges, you name him. Did I mention Mick Jaeger? That one was big on her list. It didn’t matter if they were married or not or even if they were gay or not. Those were  insignificant little matters that could be overcome and those were the “real men” she thought were good enough for her mother. A dynamic personality that would take her mom all over the world, have gobs of money and would support her every artistic fancy (and of course treat the daughter  like the queen she thinks she is or should be).

            I came close, no I didn’t, let’s be honest. I had a drummer boyfriend at one point, very cool, not sure why I let go of that one. Maybe because he was more like Danny DeVito.

            No, no, no, the current man, the husband, I found, was hiding under a rock. Newly divorced, living in a tiny house in Reston, Va. A recovering lawyer, successful business man, an honest to goodness super genius, who spends an inhuman amount of time in front of the computer. Not comfortable with people especially groups of them. But the house could be burning down and he will have just figured out how to put an end to the country’s, no wait the world’s, economic crisis, while doing my mom’s taxes, helping his daughter with Spanish and training the dog not to chase the cats, then he’d put out the fire. You think I’m kidding? He can fix computers, knows the “language,” can create websites and does things on the computer that put the real techie guys to shame. It’s like a musical instrument to him. The pc doesn’t just humm when he plays it, it does Placido Domingo.

            Any effort he focuses on he conquers; he’s a pilot, a sailor, a lawyer, he can rewire a house if needed, scrubs the kitchen sink until it cries, has an extremely thriving mediation business, is patient beyond reason, (I get frustrated with how annoyingly patient he is), speaks French and has some Hebrew and is learning Spanish with his daughter, runs the house and can sew. When we met ten years ago he was into baking cakes…I think that was the big selling point for me.

            But not for my daughter. Boy did she put him through the ringer. She was a cantankerous teenager and it was almost a deal breaker for the Man. But eventually things calmed down. It got easier between them over time. She still wonders why I didn’t marry George Clooney when I had the chance and could be living in Italy by now. But then one has to wonder about her choice in husbands…we’ll talk about that some other time.

            What I did marry was a boy scout: A Scout is: Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Frugal, Brave, Clean, and Reverent. And in my husband’s case we can add, Genius, Economical, Dependable, Loving, Honest, Supportive, Over Achiever and Modest to the point of Dalai Llama-ism-esc.  He is my very own Robert Redford, minus the land, wealth, f

ame notoriety, paparazzi or drooling star-struck women.

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