DB Sweeny Made My Thirties
I could rattle off a list of things I should consider high points that happened to occur in my 30th decade.
For instance, the realization that my kid, just having turned 5, could read. We were turning onto Wilshire Blvd, in Santa Monica, and he piped up from the back seat, "Why is this street named after Will Shire from Pirates of the Caribbean." His words confirmed that all those hundreds of hours I'd spent reading to him before bed and just about whenever he asked were worth it.
Or getting the phone call from my editor, also when we lived in Santa Monica, with the news that she wanted to buy my first novel, Underneath It All. That was big as well as a big relief.
There have been other little things but the pinnacle for me as a person, a woman, not a mother, wife, daughter or friend, was when D.B. Sweeney stopped mid-sentence to check me out.
I've had a crush on D.B. Sweeney since I saw The Cutting Edge where he played a hockey player turned pairs figure skating Olympic champ. And even though he played kind of a jerk with a weak stomach in Memphis Bell, my devotion to him was still strong. (Memphis Bell also featured three other of my ‘90’s crushes, Matthew Modine, Eric Stoltz and Harry Connick Jr. In fact, Matthew Modine is the only celebrity I have ever approached and asked for an autograph...which I did at a Harry Connick Jr. concert. I didn't see Eric Stotlz around which is good because that would have been the pinnacle of my life and I'd hate to think I peaked that early and didn't realize it.)
But back to D.B. While I haven't actively followed his career or made a point to obsessively watch all of his movies (though I do own a copy of The Cutting Edge), he's just someone I'm happy to see every so often when he happens to pop up on the screen in front of me.
I never considered seeing him on purpose or in real life, though. Even my imagination has its limitations. So when I did, my first thought was the same one I have when I catch him on TV or in a movie, "Hey, it's D.B. Sweeney!"
I was walking down Colorado Blvd, again in Santa Monica, and he was coming out of an office tower with another guy. The guy, who was wearing a suit so I assume he was some sort of agent, stopped on one side of the sidewalk while D.B. went around to his car. I realized, from a few feet off, that I'd have to walk between them so my plan was to do it as quickly as possible. Then I heard his voice and I knew immediately the guy by the car wasn't just some random dude in a baseball cap. It was none other then "Hey, it's D.B. Sweeney!"
I wasn't about to rush over to him and confess my long festering crush and I wasn't going to jay walk to avoid them, so I just plowed forward. As I put my head down, D.B. Sweeney glanced my way and stopped talking, mid-sentence, and stared. At me. For the entire 15 or so seconds it took me to walk past them. I turned the corner, even though I needed to go straight, because the whole time I was thinking "Did D.B. Sweeney just check me out?" and needed a moment to gather my thoughts and restrain myself from giggling like a dork.
This was (more than) a few years ago and I haven't seen him since. Even if I did, I still wouldn't approach him. Hell, I don't even know what his initials stand for. I don't want to. To me he'll always be the cute actor from a movie I hold sincere fondness for as well as the guy who was rendered speechless (for a few seconds) by, well, me.