My manager. That’s how my husband felt last night. I was emceeing a super swanky red carpet awards show and my husband escorted me around making sure I looked my best and had the space to do my thing. He also carried around my talking points and ear plugs.
It was his first time in that role. In fact, it was his first time watching me in my act and going behind the scenes to watch how things are done. I had a dressing room and a stage manager orchestrating my moves. I had a costume changes and makeup checks. I had my own microphone too.
My husband stood there proud and helpful and he looked at me with the deepest admiration that I haven’t seen in a very long time. He saw me, the real me. And he saw for the first time, in my opinion, who it is I’m trying so hard to be.
“Oh the things we will see and do, Stella,” he said back stage. It was also the first time he admitted his acceptance of my crazy desires becoming ours and his need to step into the role no matter how unfamiliar it might be.
That’s what a good marriage should do. Both people should be free to be themselves and both people should welcome the added mystery and excitement of their life expanded.
With my husband, I’ve grown to love country music, big trucks, and dream of our big bayou front mansion in the woods. I go fishing and ride motorcycles and have camped out on deserted islands. I also have friends in some really really really low places! Seriously, I know people who do some really really really questionable things, but knowing them makes me realize that perspective is an individual thing.
With me, my husband has expanded his vocabulary and his geography. He drinks green smoothies, dances the tango, and spray tans me. He’s learning about production, agents, media, and getting around in the city. He’s always been a smooth talker, and being around me and my world gives him more opportunities to flaunt it.
In the dressing room, he pushed me up against the wall and unzipped my pink dress. We were alone. I wish we’d locked the doors and fucked like bunnies, but we didn’t. I was concentrating on my job and he on his, plus there were other people coming in and out of the room for various reasons.
But we kissed and he grabbed my bare breasts in anticipation of our evening fuck fest that would happen as soon as the show ended. But it didn’t. In many ways, he and I acted like best friends, adoring each other openly and hold hands.
Our feet were tired, our bellies were hungry, and we were an hour drive from home. Once we stepped into our bedroom, we disrobed and got into bed cuddling like soulmates under the covers. I felt perfect and so did he. I love you was all we both could say until we both fell deep deep deep asleep.