Thirty Years

FIRST DATE:

I met Fred Stella a couple of times before we worked together. Our connections were always very fun, but brief. Then I cast him in Noel Coward's "Private Lives" at LLC Classical Theatre.

Over the course of the rehearsal process, he was witness to my painfully unhealthy relationship with my boyfriend. Regardless, he took a liking to me, knowing full well that once I dumped said boyfriend, I'd be available. He'd do odd things to get me to notice him. He once stuck his nose through the curtains during a run thru. Just his nose. His courting rituals were not typical. He found ways to connect a few times after the show. He asked if we could meet so he could get some advice on some project. We went to dinner at Gibson's and he never really asked me any advice. All a ploy to keep himself in my life but I was still clinging to dysfunction junction.

Then, on April 29, 1990, he asked me to do a voice over for his production company. 

"Promise Light Margarine, even lower in saturated fats." 

We recorded it on a Sunday afternoon. After the brief session we grabbed a meal at Vitale's. We chatted about everything from family to relationships to theatre to spirituality. We laughed and laughed and laughed some more. He was funny. He thought I was funny. He was handsome and smart. Really smart. Sexy smart. And he was nice. Very very very very nice. By the end of the day (a good 8 hours together) he made it clear, "I know you're in a relationship with a real putz, but when you're ready to walk away from him, I'm here."

I broke up with Putz the next day. Yes, I wanted to see where things could go with that Fred guy, but more than that, I realized that somebody who was smart and handsome and nice could like me. Putz was handsome, but not smart and certainly not nice. I had been attending Al-anon for less than a year when I started directing the show. I was beginning to shift, but I still had very low self-esteem. Fred's declaration was incredibly important to me. Putz was abusive on many levels. Fred's kindness (and therapy and Al-anon, of course, but Fred for sure) gave me courage to walk away. And I did.

I was free of Putz, digging this Fred guy, but terribly uncertain that jumping into another relationship was the right thing to do. I had learned in Al-anon to trust until you're given a reason not to... but once you're given that reason, trust it and walk away. I never got reasons to walk away from this Fred guy. He was quirky and eccentric (remember that "nose" move) to be sure, but nice. So so nice. I just kept trusting, even when that was something I hadn't really learned to do.

On May 29, 1990 Fred and I were hanging at his house. Quite out of the blue he said to me, "Happy Anniversary." I was confused. "We've been seeing each other for a month now," he added. I cried. He. Was. So. Nice.

Each year, for the past thirty years we celebrate "Vitale's Night" as the official anniversary of our first date. The day the adventure officially began. I look back at that time and wonder what was happening for me cosmically. If you believe in Divine Intervention, I'd say this was a great case for it. I was no great catch. I certainly was on my way to getting out of the bad relationship, but Fred made it easier - so much easier. He came into my life before I was ready for him, emotionally. It has taken loads of therapy to get on the other side of the early damage. The first 25 years being married to me were rough. Ha! (Kinda true.)

We've had our challenges along the way. Marriages are work. And some days work can be fun and some days work is work. NOTE: I am currently developing an essay series called "Honey, can you not..." reflecting upon all the times when once the work is done, we'd laugh about it.

So today is a celebration of all that work, the hard, the easy, the sad, the joyful, the mundane and the sublime.

Happy Vitale’s Night, babe.