Stealth Stud-Poof has it all. He's got a decent bod; a procreating, talented gal; and a well-respected and sizzling career. Not to mention a great ass and a boyfriend who knows what to do with it. The butt, that is, not the job stuff.
See, Toothy Tile is not (by far) the only homo in Hollywood who likes to push the fruitcake-covered envelope. Uh-uh, no way.
Whereas our loveable, somewhat confused Tooth is constantly trying to figure out just what the hell he wants to do with his life--sexuality being not the least of his concerns--Stealth has known from his relatively flashy get-go what he wanted in life: a glitzy career, a wife and family and—most definitely—a b-f on the side.
And he got it all—plus more money and job accolades than he ever expected. But here's what S.S.-P. wasn't counting on: a lover so bossy Leona Helmsley looks like Snow White by comparison.
At first it was fine and cute. The side-screw was sufficiently content to be relegated to where mistresses usually are: wink-wink, off in a discreet corner, where only certain in-the-know members of Stealth's inner sanctum were aware. Everybody got along. This was before said boy-mistress decided his very convincing reincarnation of Eva Perón was in order. And so, the dictator-channeling upstart began (with Stealth's quasi-reluctant approval) ridding Mr. Stud-Poof's life of all that didn't please the new Eva.
Which meant off with anybody's head who didn't approve of Queen Boyfriend becoming a royal attachment to Stealth's increasingly more visible side, wife included.
And now? The unlikely ménage à tricky trois is living together. Or not. Stealth's got a few pads round the globe. And his Hollywood place? Well, gosh, doesn't seem to be too much room for the missus here, now does there?
So, Stealth's rather horrified friends are now waiting for the wife-unit to blow the cover on the whole mess. Don't count on it. I find in these prickly, often legally complex scenarios, the tryst-seeking tabloids usually beat the crossed housewife to the proverbial punch.