by Ginger Zee
I think it was a Thursday. I didn’t think much of the ride. It was a great workout, and I walked out soaked in sweat and glanced over to see Amy Freeze (the meteorologist at WABC), who lived in my building. I suggested we walk home together. She agreed and said she had a friend with her. And there he was. Amy’s friend. He was tall, with the fullest head of dark, beautiful hair, a handsome face, and the most joyful smile.
“I’m Ben. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Ginger. Nice to meet you, too.”
It was that simple. From that moment on, as we headed south on the Upper East Side to cross Central Park, we completely forgot Amy was with us. (Sorry, Amy.) Ben and I talked and walked home like the oldest of friends. This guy is perfect, I thought as we made our way through the winding paths of Central Park. In no way were we taking the most efficient way home (now I know that’s because Ben is horrible with directions, but I also like to think it was because he wanted to spend more time with me), but I didn’t care. I wanted this walk to last forever. He explained that he worked at NBC as a feature reporter. He was from a suburb of NYC but had moved around a lot for radio and TV jobs. I immediately started sharing my weirdness with him and felt so comfortable being in his company.
His wit and dry humor were comforting, and I laughed harder than I had in a year. Just as I was finally feeling like myself, suddenly here was this guy who felt like he could make me even better. Uh-oh. No, Ginger. Stop. Don’t jump. No more natural-disaster Ginger. This is grown-up Ginger. You know better.
But still, as soon as I got home I went on a Google tirade consuming everything Ben on the Web. He was hilarious. He is undoubtedly the most talented person that I have ever known. Ben does all of his segments alone. Okay, he has a photographer, obviously, but he produces every piece by himself. He starts at 7:30 A.M. with an idea, writes, shoots, and then edits it himself to air by 12:30. He has a show that airs on Saturday evenings in New York City called Life According to Ben. As Ben explains, it comes on whenever they run out of Shake Weight commercials, and it is hysterical. I could tell he was insane, in a perfect way. I needed more.
I immediately wrote Amy to ask for his e-mail, and I told him in no uncertain terms we should be friends. Yes, I used the word friends. After all, I was now grown-up Ginger, and I didn’t want to jump too quickly. I didn’t even know for sure that he was single. Or straight. This was NYC, and I had been burned by that before. I was not going to assume anything, but I was also not going to go one more hour in my life without knowing this man better in some capacity.
I’ll let Ben give you his reaction to my first e-mail.
You know all those times you meet someone and hope that somehow they will miraculously contact you although you didn’t exchange information, yet it never happens? Well, it happened. She wrote. And it was amazing. She had me before the letter, during the letter, and at the end of the letter when she said, “We should be friends.” A statement I quickly responded to in my mind with “Not a chance.” She was the one. The question now was, how do I turn this potential “pal” into my girlfriend?
A few days later, we met for lunch (the “friend” meal) at Ed’s Chowder House, which is a restaurant on campus near ABC. I wore my best J.Crew outfit: orange pants and a striped blue shirt. We ate lunch, had a drink, and laughed a lot. He was definitely single. It felt like a date, and unlike the blind dates I had been on earlier that summer, this felt like a date I wanted to go on forever. We walked to Magnolia Bakery and got banana pudding. I had walked past this famous spot so many times but had never given into the temptation. But Ben is the kind of guy who eats banana pudding in the middle of the day, and over time he’s helped me relax and enjoy the small but awesome pleasures of life—like banana pudding. We took our pudding to the fountain at Lincoln Center, sat on the bench that surrounds the iconic fountain, and just took it all in. Ben put one of his earbuds in each of our ears, and we chose people who fit the music that came on. We were rolling with laughter.
And then he looked at me, and I knew I was already falling in love. But it felt different from anything else I had ever felt. It was measured, settled, and real. I could already see in his eyes that I was his and he loved me. I knew he was going to embrace all of me, even the natural-disaster parts. It was like we had skipped ahead twenty years. I could see the camera pulling up above us over the entire gorgeous city as our “falling in love” soundtrack played in the background.
And then he did it. He leaned in for the kiss. And it was…terrible. Don’t worry, not sloppy, not gross…but like a kiss I would have given my boss on his cheek. Nothing more than a peck. This is how Ben’s remembers it.
When a girl says that magically platonic phrase, “We should be friends,” and you know you want something more, it’s important to make a move but not swallow her face. I was testing the waters. It was a peck, then within half a second, once I realized she wasn’t wincing in agony, I kissed her again.
The second kiss was for real, as I kissed him back. It was magical, and every kiss since has been enchanting. Truly. I am transported when we kiss, because it feels like home. That’s the only way to describe how I feel when I’m with Ben. Home.
After that date, we went on a few more. And then natural-disaster Ginger got involved. Ben was so serious, so into me. It was frightening. There were zero games, I could feel his love, and he was a genuinely wonderful guy. So I did the only thing that made sense.
I broke up with him.
He was home, and remember, as Dr. Wilson had helped me figure out, I wasn’t the biggest fan of comfort and being “at home.” I needed more time. More time to make sure I didn’t want to find another jerk to treat me poorly for a bit longer. There were plenty of them out there, I knew it! I could give them someone to beat up for a while. I didn’t deserve this perfect man. He couldn’t possibly be real anyway. The other shoe was bound to drop sooner or later. So I ran. And I regretted it immediately. I was worried I was going backward after all my recent progress, and tried my best to work it through with Dr. Wilson.
About six weeks later, my dad and brother were visiting, and one night in a restaurant, we saw Ben’s show playing on the television. I took a calculated leap and texted him to see how he was, and I was thrilled that he was open to seeing me.
We decided to start over and make this one our first date. Ben rented a car and surprised me by picking me up in front of my building. Now, for those of you who don’t live in New York City, this is a huge deal. I had given up my car more than a year before this, and I often felt locked in to Manhattan. Hopping in a car was like riding a really cool magic carpet that could take me to so many places I had never been. Ben drove us to Piermont, New York, where he had grown up. We ate at the restaurant he had worked at in high school and college. He pointed out all his old haunts, his school, the corner where he had his first cigarette and first kiss (not on the same day). And then we passed his childhood home. There was a woman standing outside, and she invited us inside when Ben told her that he’d grown up there. To this day, I still give him a hard time about taking me here. I mean, if touring your childhood home doesn’t scream twentieth date rather than second “first” date, I don’t know what does! But Ben is Ben and he doesn’t apologize for loving or feeling, which is just another amazing quality of his that I admire. It was a great day, and when we got back to the city, we dated for a few weeks, until I broke up with him again.
Ben loves telling people I broke up with him twice. And I love my perfect comeback. “Yes, I did break up with you twice. But I then married you and had your baby.” Boom.
The second time we got back together, Ben took the lead. It had been almost three months since I had last talked to him, and I had changed my hair color. It was long and very dark now. Ben saw me on television and texted me to let me know how much he liked it.
I was still in therapy, and as much as I thought I’d grown by the time I first met Ben, losing him had set me on a path to do even more work with Dr. Wilson. I fel
t so much more ready to be loved and love in return than I had the day we met. I texted him back, and whatever I said, I think he felt like I wasn’t going to run away this time.
Ben is the type of guy who makes sure you are okay before he is. He regularly rubs my head or feet, always knowing what I need even before I know it. He has taught me to continue to grow as a communicator. He isn’t perfect by any means, but he is still the same wonderful person I met that first day. He is insanely talented, handsome, genuinely sweet, and joyful. My favorite part of Ben is his ability to be independent. He can take care of himself and he never begrudges me the demands of my career. In our first apartment together, he would tuck me in and say good night, then close the door. I would just be getting the comforter up to my chin when I would often hear the most beautiful sound. Laughter. Real laughter. Billowing out of Ben. He was probably laughing at one of the stupid movies he watches over and over, like The Benchwarmers, but it didn’t matter what made him laugh; what mattered was his ability to laugh and feel joy. So few people can let themselves go and do that.
That joy now gurgles from my son when he is laughing at us. It is the joy that I can now allow myself to have because of all the work I’ve done and the time I’ve spent with Ben, and I’m so grateful for that.
Ben and I have the most open, trusting relationship I have ever had. We tell each other pretty much everything but don’t overcommunicate. There are many days where we don’t even talk until we see each other in the afternoon. Because we don’t have to be in constant contact. That is refreshing, and I realize that is a trust we didn’t even have to discuss.
By no means do I consider myself a relationship expert (let’s be honest, this is one of the only functional relationships I have had in my life), but I do believe Ben taught me the most crucial variable needed for a successful relationship, and that is respect. First, respect yourself—don’t ever let anyone treat you as less than you deserve. Second, respect them. I respect Ben more than anyone I have ever been with. He deserves my utmost respect and love, and I am honored to deliver that every day.
As much as I loved my new job at ABC, my schedule was exhausting. For eighteen months, I’d been working three weeks straight at a time with no more than thirty-six hours off. I was really looking forward to five days in Key West with my new boyfriend, Ben, and my best friend, Brad. That’s right. I did what seemed like the most normal thing in the world to a natural disaster, and I invited my gay ex-boyfriend/current best friend to join me and my future husband on our vacation. Although at the time I thought all I wanted was for the two people I cared about the most in the world to meet each other, I have come to appreciate that perhaps the rest of the world would judge my unique entourage as the stuff of a wacky (okay, dysfunctional) romantic comedy.
Ben and I had been dating for six months (after the two breakups) and he seemed too good to be true. Ben was turning out to be the guy the girl meets in the first act of the movie whom you know the girl should wind up with, but she has to spend the rest of the movie realizing the broken, noncommittal guy with the constant wink is no good for her. Ben is stable and loving, with a close-knit family who share each other’s Facebook posts. They took me in as their own almost as soon as Ben and I started dating. But most importantly, Ben never for one moment kept me guessing how he felt about me.
Brad, on the other hand, had gone back to being my best friend. Even as Brad and I had moved to different cities during the course of our careers, and even taken three years off from communicating at all, somehow we had grown even closer. We are both ambitious and competitive, and share the same twisted sense of humor. Brad was finally back to being my three A.M. friend—the person you can call when your latest relationship blows up and pieces of you are all over the floor. So inviting Brad to Key West with me and Ben seemed like a great way to celebrate my finally getting it right. In my head, it was a long montage of margaritas by the ocean, starring Will and Grace and Harry Connick Jr.
Brad, however, did not see my motivation for the trip as simply as I did.
She wanted me to sign off on Ben. I knew I had the power to make or break this relationship. It was a lot of responsibility and I had to keep it all to myself.
For the record, Brad does not keep anything to himself. Especially after a few drinks. Brad is boisterous and opinionated and, let’s face it, a little gossipy. Even before he takes the first sip of a Macallan neat or a Ketel One on the rocks. By drink three, he’s a gay Edward Snowden. I love Brad, and even though he can be a bit of a liability, it’s a price I happily pay for our friendship. In any case, I deliberately did not want to ask Brad for his advice about Ben. I wanted to keep this trip light. All I really wanted was for Brad to know I was having a grown-up relationship and handling it all like a grown-up. At least that’s what I told myself at the time.
Looking back now, I did want Brad’s approval. He wasn’t just my best friend; he was a bit of a father figure, too. Because I trust his judgment so much more than my own, I wanted confirmation from Brad that Ben was as good as I thought he was.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised that they hit it off right away. Brad’s joke about who would be sharing the master bedroom in the suite made Ben laugh out loud. Of course they liked each other. How could two people I liked so much not like each other? That’s just math. The three of us checked into the suite, and after Brad put away enough clothes for a summer jaunt through Europe, we headed down to the bar. Our vacation was off to a great start, and everybody seemed as happy as a basket of puppies. We hit all the vacation markers—drinking, eating, making fun of the tourists in sandals with socks on. I’d love to say there was a scene of the three of us holding hands and snorkeling, or sipping from the same giant margarita glass, but it really just felt like three people in tropical weather chilling out and having a great time. And then, on the third day, when Ben left the pool to take a call, I did the one thing I had promised myself I wouldn’t do (because I wanted to play it cool). To be fair, I was at the peak of my vacation good vibes and the bottom of the margarita pitcher when I leaned in to Brad and popped the question.
“So…what do you think?”
Brad looked at me like I was speaking Japanese. So I added a few words for clarification.
“What do you think about Ben?”
“Oh…Ben!? I thought you were talking about the towel guy. His name is Carlos, by the way.”
“Hysterical. He’s great, right? I knew you two would be friends.”
Brad adjusted his lounge chair to an upright position before launching into what I have to assume was a well-rehearsed monologue. “Listen, Ginger. I didn’t accept your frequent-flier miles and the second bedroom in your suite to make a new friend. I’m here to work. For you. The good news is, I have already reached my decision. Yes. My decision is yes. Date him, Ginger. Don’t fuck it up, Ginger. Yes, he’s suspiciously good-natured, easygoing, and grown-up. He is eerily like me, but really straight. And while I’m not at all sure this will work for you in the long run, because we both know that you function best with disaster and chaos and destruction, if you can somehow fake being a grown-up enough to handle a great man who loves you, you can and should do this. Plus, your eggs aren’t getting fresher, and you’ve never dated a guy with a real job who is a fan of yours both professionally and romantically, so I say why not give it a try, at least to check that off your bucket list?”
He smiled, pleased with his monologue and performance, and reclined the chair before closing his eyes. I didn’t say a word, even though I wanted to tell him he was way overestimating his power over me and way underestimating my ability to be with a guy like Ben. But instead I just laughed. Loudly. I put my whole body into it, knocking a perfectly good bowl of chips and guacamole onto the floor.
And then I saw Ben heading over to my lounge chair with a hat he’d bought me from the gift shop. It was a really cute floppy hat that was both fashionable and functional. This was so my Ben. In my whole life, I’d never had a guy who wou
ld even notice if I was sunburned, much less care enough to do something about it.
That’s when Brad took the hat and put it on.
“How did you know I freckle in the sun? You are the best!” he said.
Brad looked at me and I knew what he was really saying was He really is great, Ginger. I got it. And he was right; it did feel pretty good to have someone genuinely care about you.
Later that afternoon, Ben started packing because he had to get back to work in New York. I still had planned two and a half days more with Brad in Key West. I’d realized that the real reason I’d brought Brad was to assure me that I deserved Ben and wouldn’t mess it up.
But first I had to say goodbye to Ben.
“So you’re totally cool with Brad and me staying here for an extra few days?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be? Look, if I have to worry about another man, even a gay ex-boyfriend man, and my girlfriend hooking up, then there’s something fundamentally broken with our relationship that cannot be fixed. And then at least we know that and can move on with our lives,” he said.
“Which would be terrible,” I said.
Ben brightened like a kid who’d just gotten a pony for Christmas.
“Because I love you,” I told him.
Okay, now he brightened like he’d gotten two ponies.
I hugged him as he got in the cab to the airport and met Brad at the pool. He was with Carlos, discussing how much Downy the hotel used in their towels to get them so soft, and I jumped right in and played wingman. The three of us had dinner that night, and later Brad and I went up to the room and watched the Kardashians till three A.M.
I was wearing the hat the whole time.
“Not a lot of guys would leave you in a hotel suite with your hot ex-boyfriend,” Brad said.
“That’s because Ben is a grown-up, Brad. And this is a grown-ass woman you’re looking at. Also, you are really gay,” I told him.
