Incomparable

by Brie Bella

  Romantically, I had never cared much about the WWE guys. I was friends with a bunch of them but preferred to hang out with bartenders and handsome strangers in New York City, rather than sleep where I worked. And Bryan really wasn’t my type—I had always gone for tatted-up artsy skaters and musicians, not mountain men from Aberdeen, Washington, who came from a long lineage of loggers. But we were working together, and so we would chat before and after matches, and we found that we had a lot in common. I have always been an environmentalist, even though I didn’t really know at the time how to articulate what that meant. I had always just felt a kinship with nature, an aversion to industrialization, a desire to preserve and not waste (even when I was a kid, I would reuse paper to send letters to my sister, writing over old notes). Bryan was also, if more ardently, committed to saving the earth. We had both thought about joining the Peace Corps. It’s weird to find those types of synergies within the ranks of WWE, which isn’t exactly known as being a bedrock of bohemianism.

  One night when I was driving to the next town with Nicole, I told her that maybe I was developing some feelings for Bryan. I went on to explain how much we had in common, even though he was nothing like the other guys I had dated. We believed in the same things. Her response was classic Nicole: “That’s really weird.” I thought it was pretty weird, too, and I really didn’t want a boyfriend. I was just out of half a decade with Craig and was craving independence and freedom. But we were on the same show and live events together, and I was finding myself becoming more and more drawn to him.

  We typically didn’t have to be at the arena until late—around 5 p.m., unless it was a TV event, in which case we needed to be there a few hours earlier. I usually tried to hit up a museum or cultural event in whatever city we happened to be visiting. When we stopped in Boston for that year’s Royal Rumble, I texted Bryan to see if he wanted to go to the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum with me. I had been dying to go. During her life, Gardner amassed a stunning collection, including Renaissance masterpieces. Then she built them a Venetian palace–inspired home at the turn of the twentieth century, making it unlike most museums. Bryan told me he’d love to go, and we jumped in his car.

  I was crushing on Bryan as we wandered the floors of this quiet and idyllic museum. I don’t get embarrassed easily, but early on, I pointed to a painting—I guess I was close to it—and a security guard started yelling at me:

  “Hey, don’t point at the painting!” I wanted to snap back, “You can’t yell at me in front of a guy I have a crush on!” It was humiliating. Bryan and I were both giddy and charged in that way you are when you’re curious about where something could go (and maybe waiting to be kissed, which never came that day). We kept wandering, looking at art, and talking until we realized that we were going to be late for the show and bolted—Bryan in a total panic because he has an aversion to being late (I wish I had that). On the drive back to the arena, I had to reassure him that they wouldn’t fire him or kick his ass for being five minutes late. To this day, we still haven’t made it back to see the third floor of that museum.

  I’ll never forget the early days in our storyline, when, for example, the three of us were sent to a Verizon Wireless store outside of Washington, D.C., for an appearance. None of us were particularly well known at that point, and WWE hadn’t done a lot to promote it. We just sat in this Verizon Wireless, waiting to sign for fans who did not come. It could not have been more random or hilarious. Three professional wrestlers, posted up between the cell phones and the cases. That’s when Bryan told me that neither of us should reproduce—in general; he wasn’t even talking about him and me together. He believes that we’ve stopped evolving because of modern medicine, and that the lives of many people have been saved who weren’t supposed to survive. He was a very sick child, with bad allergies, viral asthma, and a weak immune system. Meanwhile, I should have died in the womb or shortly thereafter, because my mom didn’t realize she was pregnant with twins and stopped pushing after Nicole came out, leaving me in there without oxygen for a dangerous amount of time. At that point, I actually had a crush on the guy. I just remember thinking: “What the hell are you talking about, you weirdo?” Where was the romance?

  Our storyline was coming to an end. In our competition for his virginity, Nikki and I had both kissed him, but popping his cherry wasn’t exactly going to work on TV. In a backstage promo, we walked in on him with another Diva, Gail Kim, who he told us was his girlfriend. “But we thought you were a …” He jumped in: “Vegan? Absolutely, I don’t eat any meat.” We went on to fight Gail and I got to hit Bryan in the face (or ear, to hear him recount it). That culminating scene was fun, but it meant that I no longer had any reason to hang out with Bryan.That made me sad, which then forced the realization that I might have more than a crush on him. Our storyline ended on a Monday, which was remarkable only because it was also February 14.

  The next day, we were in San Diego for SmackDown Live. I went with a bunch of friends, Nicole, and another wrestler she was dating to Nick’s at the Beach after the show. And I invited Bryan. He came back to Nicole’s condo with us. I think he was weirded out because he didn’t realize that Nicole and Brad were seeing each other, though that was more due to the fact that he never really paid attention to that sort of stuff than the fact that it was a secret. We all hung out for a while. It was getting late, and so I walked him back to his car, which was parked a few blocks away. Nothing happened, but he offered to drive me back to Nicole’s. We obviously knew we liked each other at this point. It was after Boston and a few other couples’ excursions—and yet we just sat parked outside of Nicole’s, like two awkward teenagers. I thought to myself: “Is he actually waiting for me to make the first move?” Then I opened the door with an “Okay, bye!” and bolted upstairs. In Bryan’s version of events, I essentially jumped out of the car while it was still moving, though he acknowledges that it was a good five seconds. Count it out, that’s a long time to sit there and wait for a kiss!

  I went back upstairs, a little annoyed and disheartened. I stopped to chat with Nicole and Brad about why Bryan was being such a dolt about making a move. Nicole offered me pretty basic advice: “Text him to come back and kiss you.” So I went up to Nicole’s spare room, and sprawled out in bed in my pajamas, and wrote: “I thought you were a gentleman and were going to kiss me good night.” He replied that I shouldn’t tempt him, and that he was turning his car around. I got out of bed, and promptly tripped over the comforter. Nicole came to see why it sounded like I had been tackled, and I told her about Bryan’s U-turn. It was so awkward.

  I probably should have brushed my teeth. The elevator in her building was unreliable, and so I took the stairs. I felt like I was doing a reverse walk of shame. Bryan was down there waiting for me, and as I went to open the gate, he grabbed me and gave me a kiss. It’s funny, because I thought he was going to be a bad kisser—maybe I had bounced from the car because I had been scared to find out—but he was fantastic. That’s high praise coming from a kissing bandit like me.

  We stood outside and made out for a while. Bryan thinks it was raining, but I don’t remember that—and then that was it. A perfectly PG-13 romantic moment. I ran back upstairs to Nicole’s, and he headed back to his hotel before flying home to Las Vegas. To this day, we still mark February 15 as our anniversary.

  After that, Bryan and I started to date. We kept the fact that we were seeing each other a secret at work. Nicole and her boyfriend were really the only ones who knew. At that time, when relationships were open at WWE there was always a lot of stigma. Other wrestlers would put a lot of negativity around it—plotting and wishing for its demise, seeding shit. We’re a dramatic crew! I’m not sure what that was about, but it was definitely a thing back then (now everyone seems to be in a relationship with another wrestler). There was also always the threat, which I don’t think was ever real, that the top creative brass at WWE would separate you and put you on two different franchises. I’m sure there was some truth
to all of this, but there was also a lot of myth-making. Regardless, Bryan and I vowed to keep it just between us for as long as we could.

  It almost all came out at the end of February in Fresno. I had picked Bryan up from the arena, and we went back to the hotel—I think it was a Holiday Inn Express—to get it on, for the first time ever. Bryan is really romantic, and “quickie” is not part of his vocabulary. He loves to set a mood, take his time, light some candles, bust out the massage oil. Bryan’s travel buddies, Sheamus and Teddy DiBiase Jr., saw me picking up Bryan after he had shrugged off joining them for dinner. They openly pointed and laughed at us before heading their own way. What we didn’t realize was that they were actually booking it back to the hotel. All the guys had checked in at the same time earlier, and so the front desk attendant didn’t ask for ID and gave them a copy of Bryan’s room key. A few minutes later they busted in on us—before anything had officially happened, though neither of us had any clothes on. Bryan charged them, buck naked, and tried to kick Teddy in the head; I had crawled under the pillows and Sheamus just sat there and patted me on the head. It was, in retrospect, a story for the ages. It still makes us laugh—but Bryan was so flipped out that we ended up skipping sex and just going straight to bed. It was, in short, a mood killer.

  For months, I would travel to the next town with Nicole, and then sneak into Bryan’s hotel room at night. Ultimately, we spent about five nights of the week together when we were on the road for WWE. Then we would separate for a couple of days so I could head to New York and he could go home to Las Vegas, where he was living at the time. Those were great days. Nicole and I would arrive very late at night—typically between 2 and 3 a.m., depending on the length of the drive. Then Bryan and I could spend the entire next day hanging out in bed, with a brief break for a workout. It’s a strange schedule, but it’s perfect for that beginning-of-relationship stuff when you just want to cuddle, chat, and watch bad TV.

  It was really not my intent to date a wrestler, primarily because when you inevitably break up, you still have to see each other at work all week and then you’ll likely see them with the next wrestler they happen to get involved with. But a relationship of some sort with Bryan just seemed inevitable. As much as I didn’t intend for it to happen in the first place, there was no way to stop it once it started. Except, of course, by refusing to be his girlfriend.

  Once we started having sex, he jumped to the natural conclusion that we were boyfriend/girlfriend, whereas I thought we were just having casual sex. When I was back in New York City, it’s not like I wanted to go out and get action—but I did want to revel in my freedom along with my girlfriends. And officially, I had been seeing someone in New York who I needed to shake off. He was an Italian guy who owned a wine company. For me, he epitomized living in the city, having freedom, having a good time, having a relationship without pressure and labels. I knew he wasn’t the one, which only made it more fun. Ultimately, I had to end things with him. Maybe he could sense that there was someone else in the picture, but he began to want more from me, and I was falling for Bryan. After it ended with the Italian, it was weird. While I maintained that I was in an open relationship with Bryan and absolutely free to date other people, I didn’t meet anyone else. Nobody really grabbed my attention because Bryan really did have it all. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.

  Bryan hated New York. While the city made me feel alive, independent, and like a woman, it made him feel overwhelmed and miserable. On the flip side, I hated going to Las Vegas with a fierce passion. While I would never officially kick a relationship to the curb because of location and real estate, from the outset I assumed our relationship was doomed. In my mind I had sworn forever allegiance to Manhattan. I thought, like Carrie Bradshaw, it might be my one true love.

  A few months in, when we were sitting in bed together in Europe in April 2011, Bryan formally asked me to be his girlfriend. And I said no. And then he asked me again a few weeks later, and I said no again. Finally, after asking me yet again, he told me that if I didn’t commit, he was done. He gave me an ultimatum. I couldn’t bring myself to cave, simply because I didn’t want to be a girlfriend. It seemed really important to me at the time and not giving in was a doubling down on that. I didn’t want a serious relationship. I just wanted freedom, which included the freedom to see as much of him as I wanted.

  It all came to a head because Bryan is a teetotaler—because of his dad’s history with alcohol he just won’t touch the stuff. I, on the other hand, love my wine. I love to get into Brie Mode when it’s merited, when I just … have the time of my life. I’m a happy drunk. I’m good to have at a party. We were together, wrestling in the lead-up to New Year’s Eve on the East Coast, and then we had a short, one-day break before we needed to be in Memphis. Bryan asked me about my New Year’s plans and I shrugged him off. In retrospect, not the right thing to do. When you care about someone, you should usher in the New Year together. But I wanted to Brie Mode it out without Bryan’s judgment, and I thought his dislike for New York City would put a damper on the night. Plus, our contract was coming up and it seemed likely that Nicole and I would walk away from WWE. So I think I had started to subtly push him away.

  The next day, he broke up with me on the phone. My sister was staying with me at the time. I walked home to my apartment in Greenwich Village, and then I started to bawl. I told her that my heart hurt, and that I was really sad—I didn’t want to lose him. Nicole, ever the relationship savant, pointed out that maybe if I didn’t want to lose him, I should not give him away. Then Bryan called and said: “I’d rather have half of you, than none of you.” And I replied, “I would rather have all of you, than none of you.”

  Later that day, I went to Washington Square Park and sat in the sun and wrote a pros and cons list about Bryan. The “pros” came easily, whereas I had to dig deep for the “cons.” Everything I came up with to fill that column seemed really stupid and trivial: “Doesn’t like New York. Doesn’t drink. Is a wrestler.” As I sat there in the cold winter sun and thought about Bryan, something in my heart felt warm and satisfied. I flew to Las Vegas to see him and make it official. We were sitting in his room, for which he paid $700 a month, listening to Pearl Jam. I asked him to be my boyfriend. He said no.

  “It doesn’t feel good, does it?” he asked.

  Then he said, “Yes.”

  About three weeks later, I had a call to check in with a medium whom I speak to pretty regularly. While Bear sends me signs constantly, I still like to have a direct line to hear confirmation and validation that he can hear me. She asked me if I had been in a park recently thinking about Bryan, and I confirmed that in fact I had been. “Bear wants you to know that he was shining so much light and sunshine on you, that you made the right decision, that the glow you felt in your heart was real.” This wasn’t the first time that I felt like Bear had sent Bryan to me, but it did feel like the first official confirmation that Bryan was the right choice. While I wasn’t calling her to justify my decision—I had already made up my mind—it was nice to know that Bear approved nonetheless.

  As Bryan and I became more and more involved, our relationship became impossible to hide. We finally outed ourselves at WrestleMania XVII in Atlanta. We were just always together, and people catch on when there’s a certain amount of intimacy. The only alternative was to avoid each other entirely, and that wasn’t appealing. Plus, it felt real enough that it was worth being open about it backstage. As a bonus, Bryan was able to start driving from city to city with me and Nicole, which broke up some of the time behind the wheel. I don’t think it’s just a twin thing, but there’s something really special about watching two people you love come to love each other, too.

  We were like Three’s Company. Bickering, laughing, and teasing. Nicole and Bryan’s relationship is based on giving each other shit—we would call her Third Wheel Nikki. They have seemingly different values, and so there is endless territory where they completely disagree. Plus, Nicole and I have
a pretty limited vocabulary, whereas Bryan is the king of big, smart words. That alone was pure comedy—it’s where the idea for “Bella Brains,” our YouTube quiz show, came from. These jokes made the miles pass quickly, even though Bryan is the slowest driver. The funniest moment had to be when he was pulled over for speeding on our way to Yakima, Washington, which felt like a total impossibility—Bryan drives under the speed limit, never even 5 mph over. But he had picked up some speed accidentally coming down a hill and got slapped with a ticket. Nicole and I howled with laughter. We made local food our big thing, and would always hunt down the town’s culinary gems, like pancake balls in Columbus, Ohio. On Tuesday mornings, Nicole and Bryan would go work out together while I slept in. I really love to sleep in.