t first, of
course, I was pretty keen to the idea. I mean, she heard that I thought “Eternal
Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” was the best
seen all year. So when she got my number through
mutual friends and called me up, I was stoked. You
see, I’m a bit of a romantic at heart, so when
Kate Winslet asked if I wanted to go get some coffee
sometime, I naturally assumed that’s what she
really meant. Maybe we’d play miniature golf
or I’d meet her parents or something. I guess
she didn’t see it that way. No, let me tell
you, this bitch is crazy. We’re talking borderline
sexual predator here.
At first, it started innocently enough. After our
first date (on first dates, I tend to go on cruise
control and let the female set the pace. Our first
date didn’t stop ’til breakfast, na’mean?),
we’d leave little dirty messages on each other’s
answering machines. Or maybe I’d visit her
at a movie set and we’d have some fun in her
trailer. All the while, I respected her boundaries
and she mine. But these days, Winslet is taking it
to the next level.
Next thing I know, she’s calling me at work,
asking when I have a few moments to spare. She calls
me at three in the morn’ for obscene booty
calls. And anytime Sam Mendes, her husband and the
director of “American Beauty,” is gone
for work, she’s calling me before his car even
leaves the driveway.
When I asked her about Sam, she gets casual and dismissive. “Sam’s
OK, I guess,” she says as she pins me, “but
he can’t get my rocks off like you, babe. Besides, ‘Road
to Perdition’ was long and boring.”
“I still haven’t seen it.” I mumble.
You know that scene in movies where the husband comes
home and the wife’s lover has to leave, half-naked,
out the bedroom window. Out into thorny bushes and
expensive attack dogs?
My romantic self will get the better of me sometimes.
And I can’t help but turn to her and ask what
she sees me as.
“The best damn shag in this town.”
I suppose sometimes it can be more trouble than it’s
worth. We agreed to keep it a secret (“Can’t
give those paparazzi an inch. Now bite my shoulder,
please.”) So it’s not like I can brag
to my friends about this. When actors and actresses
win an Academy Award, you never hear them thank their
mistresses or back-door men when they win. No, it’s
usually the director, or some teacher who gave them
great acting advice in school or, God forbid, their
spouses. I suppose no one will ever know about Kate
Winslet and me. And yeah, I’ve thought about
calling her up and ending the whole thing, but the
perks are nice. I’m enjoying the free movie
passes and the gifts. I also get the preferred treatment
in any fine restaurant in L.A., even when I’m
not with her. I wonder if those Hollywood restaurant
owners just know everyone’s secrets. Besides,
it’s Kate Freakin’ Winslet. I am more
than a little curious to see how long this gravy
train is going to last.
[Special thanks to Clayton Scrivner]