When I tell people what I do, everyone assumes I’m in it for the perks. And trust me, the talk shows and after-parties *are* cool (you don’t even want to know how many selfies I have with Reese Witherspoon’s bobby pin), but nothing is better than the days I get to just kick it with Jason, Lisa, and the kids. I know, I know, but they’re truly as down to earth as celebrities get (I sometimes even forget they’re famous…until I open the fridge and see a shelf full of $20 pressed juice from Erewhon).
We live in Topanga, which is kinda like Malibu, only a little douchier [Editor’s note: As someone who grew up in southern California, I can confirm], and start our mornings with a casual three-hour workout. Jason likes to tell me I can sleep in and meet up with him later (dude is a total softie) but there’s no way he’s cranking out 1,000 sit-ups without me holding up those long-ass waves. (Ever heard of Aquaman? Yeah, I’d like to think I was pretty instrumental in that six-pack, tyvm.) Post-workout, I usually tell Jason I’m fine doing my own thing while he makes breakfast with the fam, but he invites me to hang out on his wrist anyway. It’s the little things.
Like every other hair tie in the biz these days, my afternoons are back-to-back Zoom meetings. Jason’s gotten super into the man bun look throughout quarantine, so I’ve been a lot busier than I anticipated when we first went into lock down.
Except for…well, I really shouldn’t say this, but okay, every couple of days Jason tells me we’re blowing off our appointments and hitting the rock-climbing gym instead. We’re definitely the only 6’4” guy + pink velvet scrunchie on the ropes, but that’s kind of what I love about us. We get stopped a lot in the parking lot for autographs and, honestly, it’s just so surreal that strangers actually care about me.
Later on, Jason and I watch the sun set as we walk through the garden, picking fresh herbs for dinner. I’m always so impressed with his commitment to sustainability (I totally drank out of plastic water bottles before booking this gig, oops). Also fun fact: It doesn’t matter how tired he is—Jason never goes to bed without doing his nighttime skincare routine. I help him tie back his hair before he suds up his beard and steals a few of Lisa’s serums.
At exactly 9:32 p.m, in compliance with his astrologer-prescribed sleep schedule, Jason puts me on his nightstand right next to his turquoise rings and layered necklaces. I mean, I hate to be one of those scrunchies, but I basically go to sleep with a smile on my face every freaking night. What can I say? I really just love my job.
*All opinions are scrunchie’s own.
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