The Naked Truth: The Real Story Behind the Real Housewife of New Jersey--In Her Own Words

by Staub, Danielle

  I had the chance to show Christine a significantly different life than the one I had growing up. I recognized that motherhood was a blessing, an opportunity, and a second chance. This moment was not only the beginning of life for my young daughter, but a new beginning for me. It was a chance to move on from the past with great success as a passionate mother, wife, and homemaker.

  Almost immediately after Christine’s birth, Tom and I started trying to have another baby. I figured that if we tried then, in a year I would be pregnant and Christine would have a brother or sister by the time she was two years old. It seemed like the perfect plan.

  However, I couldn’t seem to get pregnant.

  Tom and I were planning our sex life around the time of the month that I was the most fertile. I started cycles of fertility drugs and was going for regular shots and hormone therapy in conjunction with getting embryos implanted in my uterus at St. Barnabas hospital. It was a lot to go through on a daily basis and Tom was right there with me. That was why it was shocking to me to discover that while he was allowing me to put my body through all of this so that we could have another baby, Tom was having an affair. He was saying all along that his sperm couldn’t have been the reason we weren’t conceiving. After all, we had no problems conceiving Christine. So finding out that Tom’s sperm count was abnormally low for a married man with—presumably—one partner, was a tough pill to swallow. There was no other explanation.

  Soon after this discovery, Tom and I decided to take a long weekend together in New York City to talk things over. We booked a room at the Four Seasons and left Christine with our nanny.

  Trust had been broken in our marriage, and Tom felt terrible about it. He owned up to what he had done like a man and promised it wouldn’t happen again. I believed him and wanted to work through this tough time together. I was truly in love with my husband and wanted to have another baby with him. We both wanted to keep the family together.

  That night in the city, we met up with Tom’s brother, Jerry, and his wife, Denise, at the Rainbow Room for dinner and dancing. Normally, I can drink Cristal Rose and eat healthy portions of caviar. However, when the waiter brought the champagne and caviar to the table, I suddenly got nauseated from the smell.

  I told everyone that I didn’t feel well and excused myself to go to the restroom. Once inside, I met a couple of women, both mothers, who told me that I did not look well. I nodded and immediately ran into a stall to throw up. When I came out, one of the women said, “You’re pregnant.”

  “No, I’m not pregnant,” I responded with certainty. “I have been trying for three and a half years and it hasn’t happened.”

  “Nope, you’re pregnant,” she said with a smile.

  When Tom and I got back to our hotel room, I sent out the bell captain to a local twenty-four-hour pharmacy to get me some pregnancy-test kits. I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom peeing on the test sticks. Tom eventually fell asleep, and at about six in the morning, I let out a scream of happiness. Tom came charging into the bathroom, still half-asleep, and said, “Where’s the spider?” (He knows I can’t stand spiders and thought he had to kill one for me.)

  I held up the positive test. “It’s pink!” I yelled with excitement.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?!”

  “Yes!”

  “Great, sweetie! Can I go back to bed now?” He meant it in a kind way, and later that day we celebrated the good news over brunch.

  Jillian was born two weeks early, on May 14, 1998. When Christine came into my hospital room to meet her new baby sister, I smiled at Tom and everything seemed to be glorious in our lives once again. With two beautiful daughters born out of love, I couldn’t help but think how life could not get any better than this.

  For the next four years, I lived a dream life. I had two beautiful and healthy daughters. I had everything materially that any woman could ever wish for. I could shop for designer clothes and shoes every day. At the drop of a hat, I could travel first-class anywhere in the world I wanted. I never had to worry about paying any of the bills; they were all paid on time or months in advance. Tom and I didn’t owe a penny on our $2 million home. We bought brand-new luxury cars with cash anytime we wanted. My husband believed that you should never take out a loan; he was convinced that you should pay for everything in cash because you saved money on interest that way. His philosophy, which had been passed down by his father, was that if a person couldn’t pay for something in full, then he or she shouldn’t buy it.

  Tom and I hosted old-Hollywood-style extravagant parties at our palatial New Jersey home. Semiformals would be held often and put together by professional party planner Amy Winters. Hundreds of invitations would be sent out, tents would be set up on the grounds three weeks in advance, and a dance floor would be specially built in our backyard. Valets and waiters dressed in tuxedos would stand at attention. Our social events always seemed like something right out of a movie. The flowers alone, arranged throughout the house, would cost $35,000.

  However, while I was clearly comfortable financially, I wasn’t happy emotionally. My marriage to Tom was not healthy. Tom created a lot of distance between us. Our date nights on Saturdays became less and less frequent. The communication between us was disintegrating. We no longer laughed together. We became two people living separate lives under the same roof.

  From the outside it seemed as if we had everything. But on the inside, our relationship was hollow. It was no longer a marriage of love, and I wasn’t about to live a lie or stay in a marriage because a man was taking care of me and making things easy. Should I have stayed in a marriage because all of my bills were paid? Should I have stayed in a marriage because I could buy anything I wanted? No, because that’s what a prostitute does. I apologize, but it’s true. Some women can live like that, but I was not going to be one of them. I refused to be one of them. Which is why being called a prostitute is so ridiculous to me— it is the opposite of what I really am.

  Accepting that my marriage was over was really difficult. Tom was and is the father of my children, and it would have been so much easier to stay together for their sakes. I knew it would be hard for my daughters not to have a father around. They were still so young! Jillian was only four years old at the time our marriage was crumbling, and she needed a father at home to read to her and tuck her into bed every night. But ultimately I asked myself, If I stay in this marriage, what example will I be setting for Jillian and Christine in the long run? I imagined not a good one.

  My inner voice was telling me things were wrong, and I needed to listen to it and be strong. After our last party, which we held to celebrate Christine’s first Holy Communion when she was eight years old, the marriage was done. Tom and I couldn’t mend our relationship and find our way back to each other. So, I filed for divorce.

  Going through my divorce from Tom was when the real day-to-day struggles began for me. Paying all of the bills for a house the size of mine was completely foreign to me. Prior to being married, I owned and rented small homes, condos, and apartments. I had no idea what it cost to maintain a dwelling like the one in which I was living. I was now a mother of two and wasn’t going to go back to dancing in clubs. That was in the past. I needed to reinvent myself in the present while I dealt with the challenge of making ends meet for my family.

  Unfortunately, the bills didn’t come to me—they went to my ex-husband, and he didn’t always take care of them on time. It’s difficult enough being a single mom, let alone having someone else in charge of the money. As a result, I started out behind the eight ball.

  I had to pull in the reins. We went from going out to see a movie once a week to staying home and renting a movie once a month. I went from having a black American Express card to bringing buckets of change collected from under couch cushions and beds to the bank in exchange for paper money. I’d go to the supermarket with just $20 to feed three people. (Let’s just say that macaroni and cheese became a big hit in our house.)

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bsp; I had always felt for single moms, but when I became one, I found a new respect for them. I don’t think it’s any different being a single mother who lives in a house the size of mine or one who resides in a smaller dwelling. Wealthy or poor, no single mom out there has it easy.

  Regardless, I had to create some sense of normalcy at home for my daughters’ sakes. It was hard enough for them to lose a father, but they also underwent a complete change of lifestyle. I needed to find fun things that we could do together that didn’t cost much money. For instance, each Saturday we would go into New York City. We didn’t have enough money to pay to park in a garage, so we made friends with a street vendor on the Upper West Side who would kindly save a parking spot for me every Saturday. I don’t how he saved the spot, but he came through every time! He’d even put change in the parking meter while my daughters and I would go off to Central Park and the American Museum of Natural History. We’d walk all over the city for hours. Christine and Jillian were used to riding door-to-door in our own limousine, and now they traveled everywhere on foot, but they didn’t miss it at all.

  Through these hard times, my daughters and I bonded with one another, and I’d even say that we had a blast together. We all developed a better understanding of one another and created a closeness that I wouldn’t give up for anything. My daughters and I are best friends. While my marriage was coming apart, my daughters were the glue that kept me together.

  To my surprise, as I adapted to my new roles, I became the complete opposite of who I originally was. I used to be concerned with things like “Where will I plug in my blow-dryer?” and I would send concierges out to buy me things; now I was cutting wood and building fires with my daughters. Simple pleasures became our daily pleasures. I stepped down from the proverbial high horse that my husband had put me upon and actually achieved things by myself. Who knew?

  When a wife files for divorce and becomes a single mom, often her soon-to-be ex-husband puts her through hell. As I was going through my divorce, I spoke to many women who were wealthier than I was who came crashing down financially and emotionally. During the time we were separated, Tom asked me many times to get back together with him. I always said no, and I believe that fueled some of the difficulties of our divorce settlement. He was hurt by the rejection, and I can understand that. I knew we were a family. Trust me, many times I would say to myself, What am I doing? I am still in love with Tom. Maybe I should get back together with him. Maybe I should give our marriage one more try. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that getting back together with him wouldn’t be for the right reasons. I would be going back because he could pay the bills. I was truly torn, and I cried often. I had been with Tom since my late twenties and we had shared many great moments together. Were there more to come? Possibly.

  However, I knew that going back wasn’t an option for me. I was looking ahead. But even though Tom may have learned his lesson when I filed for divorce and he lost me, I hadn’t yet learned mine. I believe I’m finally learning it now.

  After my divorce, I imagined that dating again couldn’t be all that different. Wow, was I wrong!

  The dating scene had dramatically changed. These days, it’s tough to find a nice guy when you’re in your twenties, let alone in your forties. Trying to date is hard enough when you have no kids, and I was a mother of two. Nights out on the town are few and far between when you’re a single mom. The odds were not in my favor, but I was still hopeful that I could once again find love in my life.

  Since I clearly wasn’t going to meet anyone anywhere except maybe a car-pool lane, a few of my friends suggested that I hit up the Internet to find a guy. They told me to check out the dating website WealthyMen.com. While the name of the site certainly had a nice ring to it, I was skeptical about meeting men online. I had never done it before and it felt like a bit of a desperate move to me (not to mention I didn’t even have an e-mail address). However, with limited time on my hands, I realized I should probably just give it a try. I signed up and posted my profile and photo online, but I wouldn’t e-mail guys unless they contacted me first.

  Almost instantly, my in-box was filled with messages from male cyber suitors. While I had no e-mails from the likes of Donald Trump, some of the men were successful and not bad-looking at all. I met a few interesting men on the site, and one in particular struck a chord with me, Johnny. He became my most significant relationship after Tom to date.

  Johnny, better known as Goumba Johnny, used to play football for the New York Giants and Jets and has since become a stand-up comedian and DJ on the popular New York City radio station WKTU 103.5 FM. I had never listened to his show, but in e-mails, he seemed like a nice, smart guy. We corresponded heavily over the Internet for quite some time, then one day, while I was online, Johnny sent me a message telling me that I was really beautiful and he’d like to take me out to dinner.

  I agreed to meet him for dinner in New Jersey one night when my daughters were visiting their father, and we had a great time together. Even though we had talked a lot over the Internet for months and I felt that I already knew him, clearly there was still more to learn. In person, over sangria, we shared a relaxed and easygoing vibe. More important, I proved to myself that even though I had owned this big house and lived a wealthy lifestyle for many years, underneath it all I was still the same girl who could let loose, hang out, and chill. It was just a matter of being with the right company, and right off the bat Johnny was just that. This was a good turning point for me.

  Following dinner, I led Johnny back to the highway from the restaurant. Just when he was about to drive off, he lowered his car window, smiled, and said, “I miss you already. I can’t wait to see you again.” I thought that was sweet.

  Johnny was a sweetheart, not complicated, and I enjoyed being in his company. We would have great conversations and talk every day, sometimes five times a day. He liked me for myself—he liked me best without makeup and in sweatpants. Johnny was also supergood to my kids. On Jillian’s birthday, she even got to be on Johnny’s radio show as a special treat.

  Every Tuesday, Johnny would come over to the house after his broadcast. We called these Johnny Tuesdays, and we would all have dinner and then watch House on television. After the kids went to sleep, I would help him write his Us Weekly “fashion police” articles, in which he would provide comical comments about celebrity fashion don’ts.

  Johnny and I probably had one of the more healthy relationships that I have ever been involved in. We trusted each other. I was totally honest with him about my past, and he was honest with me about his; he, too, had once been arrested and done time. His life now was on a very different path, and I was happy to be a part of it.

  Well into our relationship, I was listening to Johnny’s radio show one afternoon and Johnny’s coanchor, Hollywood Hamilton, casually commented that Johnny had been at a professional hockey game the night before. Then Hamilton asked Johnny if he had brought a date with him to the game. Johnny didn’t answer. Soon after this awkward moment over the airwaves, they cut to a commercial break. During the break, my phone rang. It was Johnny, asking if I was listening to his show. I told him no. He said that was good because something was said on the air that could be misconstrued, and he told me not to worry about it. Don’t worry about it? I thought. Seeing another woman is nothing to worry about? But even though I was disappointed, I decided not to confront Johnny. I waited for three weeks for him to come clean on his own and explain. He never did, so I broke up with him.

  After the breakup, Johnny called and said he wanted to get back together with me. He told me he missed me and wanted to see me again. I was reluctant at first, but I missed him, too. Yes, we had been lovers, but Johnny and I were also friends, and I missed our long talks. I had often spoken to him about marriage, and I wondered if maybe I had been rushing things a bit. Maybe I’d scared him off. Regardless, a trust had been broken between us and we needed to discuss it, so I made plans for him to come to the house for dinner when the chil
dren were visiting their dad.

  The day before Johnny was supposed to come over to talk, I got a call from one of my friends, who offered their congratulations on my engagement to Johnny. This was news to me! I had no idea what they were talking about. The person explained that they had heard on Johnny’s radio show that he had just gotten engaged to a girl named Danielle and assumed it was me because we had been seeing each other. “Well,” I answered, “it’s not this Danielle.”

  Here Johnny was planning on coming out to New Jersey to my home to repair our broken trust and he was already lying to me again. To think that I foolishly believed I might have scared him off by talking about marriage when he had just gotten engaged to someone else! I had no idea he was seriously dating somebody else at the same time he was dating me. Granted, the engagement was announced after we’d broken up, but he’d said he wanted to get back together with me. This was ridiculous! I had had enough. He was playing a game that I didn’t want to play any longer. I called up Johnny and said, “Best of luck to you.” It was time to say good-bye to Goumba!

  After everything I went through with Johnny, I realized that romantic relationships with men were not going to be hugely significant in my life as I moved forward. Men were not going to define me. I was going to define me!

  Men had become an unwelcome distraction. As I looked back on my life, while I had been in love and been loved at various times, what did it all add up to? Finding myself single and alone again. For better or worse . . . till death do us part . . . those weren’t just words to me when I said them. They were vows of the deepest value based upon love, friendship, and equality. I was looking for the happily-ever-after in my life, and it became clear that I needed to create happiness within myself first.