One of my absolute favorite couples is Steve and Mia Stewart. She’s a no nonsense HR professional and he’s one of Atlanta’s finest. (For all my international readers who are not familiar with this term, that means he’s a cop – not that I am checking out someone else’s husband!)
Mia is a queen bee and a fashionista’s fashionista, who is always immaculately attired with a hair never out of place. Steve is a megalith of a man, with a broad smile, an infectious laugh and a frame that dwarfs everyone else in the room. As far as the male specimen goes, he’s pretty impressive. He of course has to stay in shape, since the better part of his day is spent chasing down criminals on foot.
Their daughter just celebrated her sixth birthday, and the kids and I were invited to the party. She’s the perfect mix of her parents – a combination of sass and comedy, clad in trendy clothing. As each of the Stewarts held court in their respective areas at the party, I was standing closest to Steve, who was gabbing on about football and other manly topics with the only other father at the party. Naturally I was drawn into the conversation. In the middle of his monologue, a voice over the loud speaker asked Mrs. Stewart to approach the front desk. She excused herself from the people he was chatting with and sashayed in the direction of the organizers who had summoned her, carrying a massive metallic purse. She paused as she passed by Steve.
“Steve. Hold my purse,” she commanded, thrusting the bag into his hands and never breaking her stride.
In perfect rhythm, Steve continued his discourse and reached for the bag, reacting with instinct and never pausing to acknowledge what had just happened: A massive, muscle-y, bald Black man was standing there talking about football with a metallic Guess bag in his hand.
The other dad and I began to chuckle.
“Dude, that purse really goes well with those jeans,” he quipped.
Steve was genuinely amused.
“Man, those two suck all the masculinity outta me,” he admitted. “And what’s worse is, Symone is going to want me to play with all her new toys. Got me out there in the street choking dudes out with pink press-on nails.”
The image of Steve in a police uniform choking out a gang banger with glitter all over him was more than I could take. I cackled mercilessly.
Mia returned a few minutes later, reclaimed her bag and announced that it was time to open presents. As she instructed Steve to take pictures of Symone opening every gift, he groaned loudly as she squealed and opened one particular item with much excitement. It was a miniature pedicure set crafted for children ages 6 and up.
“Yeah baby. I see.”
I caught Mia smiling at Steve, and him smiling back.
My favorite couple.