Bruno would constantly saunter around the apartment au naturel. He went so far as to answer the door in his birthday suit. Frankly, I was appalled. His best friend James would knock on the door, and there came Bruno, treating his buddy to a full frontal extravaganza and a big bonjour! James wasn’t fazed in the least. One day Bruno shocked a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses.
“Aren’t you embarrassed to have your privates on display?” I asked.
He gestured toward his package and shrugged his shoulders. “C’est une partie du corps.” It’s just a part of the body. “You are so uptight, Marla.”
For all the French freedom, I watched the girlfriends and wives as they discovered their young men cheated on them all the time. I couldn’t figure out if they were just dumb, or if they had their own flings going on. I didn’t think I would be able to recover from a betrayal, but then it happened to me. I stayed with Bruno after he had an affair with James’ sister who was visiting from France. My self-esteem crashed to a rocky bottom—I thought. But it turned out that it could go even lower.
Bruno’s green card came in the mail after we had been married for three years. What a coincidence that an hour after it arrived, he told me that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I was so distraught that I went up to Sunset Boulevard to a tattoo parlor blaring Gun’s and Roses and subjected myself to modern day torture by having a tattoo engraved on my left hip of a heart with a dagger through it with the words, L’AMOUR. I was a mess. I couldn’t eat or sleep and my heart literally felt as though it had been pierced by a dagger. I was able to convince him to stay with me after that, but why did I want to hang on to someone who didn’t love me? I tried changing my personality to be more “cool” and “easy going.” When he was there with his friends, I even walked around the house as nonchalant as a cigarette dangling from my lips could make me. All I got was a sore throat.
As lovers, we must not only love what we see, we must also truly see the one we love.
Article contributed by
Marla Martenson, matchmaker & author of Diary of a Beverly Hills Matchmaker
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