Fabio doesn’t mumble. He’s deeply expressive, his eyes dancing from the road to my spot in the passenger seat. He claps to punctuate a point, takes his hands off the wheel for long stretches to accentuate his words. He lays out the burden of a blessed man.
“I have an amazing life,” he says. “If I find the other person to share my amazing life, that’s amazing, it’s beautiful. But the other woman, she has to be in the same position. I don’t want to carry somebody else’s suitcase. I don’t want to carry somebody else’s baggage.”
There was a girl once. Jennifer. They met when he was 23, she 19. She modeled for L’Oréal. He was blasting through his 20s.
“She had the biggest heart, was always there, was caring and loving,” he says. “But I was too young and too wild.”
In the late 1980s, after six years together, Fabio called it off. He regretted it and, a few years later, tried to get back in touch. Jennifer had changed her number, so he sent a note through a friend. She never responded.
“My mom, she goes, ‘Fabio, if you’re not 100 percent that you’re going to marry her, you have to let her go. You can’t keep her there waiting for you. But she’s an amazing woman and you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.’”
He pauses.
“She was right.”
[section headline=”” description=”” caption=”Fabio and Madeline Kahn in a 1995 episode of the short-lived series ”New York News.” (Everett Collection via CBS)” credit=”” src=”http://www.washingtonpost.com/sf/national/wp-content/uploads/sites/11/2015/12/fabio-hand-kiss.jpg” link=”” align=”full” ]Usually, on road trips, I stop for snacks. Coffee. A slice. Even a McDonald’s soft-serve. That’s not how Fabio rolls. Stops are scheduled with joyless efficiency for when we need gas. At the first convenience mart, he buys a pair of protein bars. I choose bananas and a package of beef jerky. And then, when Fabio ducks into the men’s room, I sneak one of those 25-cent mini Reese’s peanut-butter cups at the register. It’s consumed before he gets back.
Even Fabio’s water is special. Back in the truck, I notice his bottle is tinted. He tells me he adds vitamin C. And not off the counter. This is a pharmaceutical grade he’s brought back from Europe.
We talk a little about food in the car. I note that he looks lighter than during his romance-cover heyday. He is. Back then, he packed 248 pounds of muscle onto his 6-foot-3 frame. Today he’s down to 228 pounds. I ask about his hair. He has highlights. When I bring up his eating preferences, he notes that he doesn’t eat cheese, fried foods or sweets. Conveniently, he doesn’t like them. Then there’s the health implications.
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