My Wife Has The Hots For Brad Pitt

Need I say more?

“Honey, would you like a piece of meatloaf?” 

“No.” 

“It’s my homemade recipe (said in a lilting voice).” 

“No thanks.” 

“Tastes great, I’ll just have to eat your piece.” 

“OK.” 

Something’s up. My husband never says no to a serving of my homemade meatloaf. What gives? In fact, just the other day he mentioned he was going to begin skipping one meal per day. The last time he went on a diet, was due to his desire to exercise. So, why now? What’s with the sudden motivation to lose weight?

As I sift through a Rolodex of reasons, I quickly dismiss the obvious. Midlife crisis? No. High School reunion? No. Infatuation with a younger woman? Nooo, we trust each other implicitly. Ah ha . . . it soon dawns on me. My husband is having a middle-life crisis, as in the girth of his midsection. Having gained extra weight these past few sedentary months, he has not been particularly pleased with his appearance.

Yes, he’s gained a few extra pounds; however, I can’t help but think there’s something else going on … and, sure enough, the answer came from afar, as though delivered by courier pigeon. Brad Pitt. Yes, the Brad Pitt, as in take off your shirt, melt the movie screen, feast your eyes on his hot body. Yep, that Brad Pitt.

Maybe I did go a little too crazy in my admiration towards Brad in his recent film. I knew it the moment my husband made the comment, while driving home from the movie theater, “My wife has the hots for Brad Pitt.” I tried to not laugh, but my blushing cheekbones gave me away.

I’ll admit it, it’s fun to ogle at movie stars, though I’m not the only one in this family who has a swoon-worthy crush. Just mention the name Jennifer Garner in front of my husband. Go ahead. Mm-hmm … without a doubt Jennifer is gorgeous—beyond gorgeous, and so is Brad. My husband needn’t worry.  By next week, Brad will be but a distant memory. Maybe a few weeks more? Seriously, even if Brad were to come to our home wearing nothing but a Tarzan loincloth, I’d have to close the door on him very slowly—defense d’entrer (no admittance).

As the keeper of my husband’s heart, this is a responsibility I take quite seriously. Love cannot flourish in an environment of mistrust, nor when bandied about like an object of play. Besides, six pack abs can’t even begin to compete with my husband’s messy, unkempt hair, didn’t brush my teeth this morning. Oh, there’s more: his gorgeous celadon blue eyes, sunshine of a smile, plus his unwavering love for me. 

Pumped up, beautified people are without a doubt pleasing to the eyes. Beauty in and of itself serves a divine purpose, upliftment. I am grateful to those actors and actresses who possess the unique ability to transport their audiences to places of pure delight. And, don’t worry Honey, “Here’s looking at you.”