Tomorrow we celebrate democracy, America’s independence from Britain and a day off from work. But more importantly, we celebrate the UK’s fabulous contribution to our country. Beautiful brits Victoria and David Beckham’s 13th wedding anniversary tomorrow reminds brides everywhere to never fear the other woman. If Mrs. Becks managed to hold on to her man despite his endless underwear ads, soccer championships and rock-hard abs, then so can we.
Irv, my husband of two and a half years, is my David Beckham. I knew him since my teenage years as the lead singer of a rock band from a nearby high school, The Perfect Mistake. I listened to their songs on my discman, watched them perform on Fuse TV and stared at him from across the local ice cream shop with friends in the summertime. So when he finally noticed me at a party years later, I pretended to have no idea who he was. (“Oh, The Perfect Mistake? No, doesn’t ring a bell.”)
I knew Irv must think pretty highly of himself, so I made sure not to feed his ego. After all, girls across the country were proclaiming their love to him on MySpace, fighting for the front row at his concerts and stealing his sweatshirts. I was the envy of all the girls in my Brooklyn neighborhood—even my own sister. (“How can you bring Irv Safdieh to the house when I’m making tuna?” she yelled before spritzing on some perfume.) I eventually got a diamond ring and my sister accepted her role as sister-in-law. Irv loved how I set myself apart from the other girls.
So when Mrs. Beckham was first caught with a topless photo of her hubby as her screensaver last year, I just couldn’t understand it. Why further publicize his beauty? Why ignite his female fan base? But
after Googling the new underwear ads for a few minutes I realized she might be on to something.
My husband — like all of yours — is an incredible man. It’s why I decided to marry him. And anyone with half a brain will notice it. The Perfect Mistake broke up in 2009, but Irv’s been playing shows solo under his rockstar alias, Shane Cools. Now instead of squealing teenage girls, it’s adult women in the audience who snap pictures of him and talk to him after the show. I used to get insecure, but now I know better. When he dedicates a song to me, they cheer the loudest. I’ve had women stop me and say, “Your husband is really good!” And they’re right. I decided to be like Victoria and join the groupies.
Every time Irv gets off the stage and kisses me on the cheek, every time he asks me what I thought of his performance, and every time he thanks me for cheering him on in the audience, I realize that the only woman that matters to him is, well, me. And why shouldn’t I tell him just how sexy he is? Knowing that Victoria and David Beckham have such a strong marriage is further motivation. No matter how many women swoon over Becks, the only one he’s looking for in the crowd is his beautiful wife.
And having Irv as arm candy keeps me on my toes. Not quite like Posh’s toes in 6-inch stilettos, but you know what I mean. It’s extra motivation to throw in that Jillian Michaels DVD when I get home from work. And at the end of the day, at least I’m the only one seeing Irv in his underwear.
Here's a photo of Irv serenading me during our wedding!
— Paulette Safdieh
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