::Sigh::

I'm not the only one.

My friend, Lauren, shares my perfectly respectable (and not creepy) married lady affection for Brian Williams. She read that he was appearing at a discussion and viewing of the film Absence of Malice at the Newseum and invited me to come along. I agreed, though primarily as a hard-hitting journalist/citizen blogger, rather than as a fan.

As the evening approached, there were two snags - one small and one large.

First, the day before the event, I was discussing Brian Williams with my BFF, who proceeded to make the meanest remark I've ever heard in our 35 years of friendship.

"You know, he really looks like your dad."

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, and my eyes filled with tears. Our completely one-sided but pure and beautiful relationship (Brian's and mine, that is) was hanging by a thread. Once the father/crush link has been established, all is lost.

"Take it back," I growled through the phone. She got the verbal hint/threat and backpedaled a little.

"I really only know him from Sesame Street," she admitted.

Just like that, BW was back on top. First of all, BFF's credibility was shot to hell - really? She hadn't seen him on the Nightly News? Or, as more suits my personal taste, on the Daily Show? Colbert? 30 Rock? Come on! Also, Brian Williams likes kids??? Somebody just earned another notch on the unrequited adoration belt.

The second snag was more tactically serious. Lauren herniated a disc a few days before the event. She was in excruciating pain, and devastated that she couldn't stay upright long enough to go.

It looked grim for our side. I was bummed that Lauren couldn't go, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go by myself, and the tickets were in Lauren's name. Thankfully, Lauren's husband, Pete, took it for the team and agreed to be my wingman. It takes a special kind of friend to stay up that late on a school night.

So there I was, abandoning my husband with a married man on the way to a movie with my imaginary boyfriend.

The event was very nicely done. The newly-constructed Newseum building is impressive, located on Pennsylvania Avenue next to the Canadian embassy (which was hosting a swanky affair that I accidentally tried to crash. Je m'excuse/I'm sorry!) We got great seats -- about twelve rows back, dead center.

The host Nick Clooney and Williams walked out amidst enthusiastic applause. They talked about the movie, which BW had apparently selected. He said it's one of his favorites; a flawed film about flawed people. Despite the disaster in Haiti, he was able to stay and honor his commitment (integrity!) to host the event, multi-tasking offstage while the film played and rushing back to the station once the event was over.

As expected, BW was handsome, charming, witty, and self-deprecating. So was Clooney, for that matter. The movie was good, and they let us bring our drinks into the theater. In all, besides some annoyingly self-serving audience members (how interesting that you've been a reporter for 11 years, and no, Brian won't sign your petition), I couldn't ask for more.

I called SJ on the ride home. He asked me if I was standing in front of the Newseum, blasting "In Your Eyes" from a boom box over my head.

I extolled the virtues of the evening, describing the scene (he was a firefighter, AND he has the most impressive side hair part I've ever seen!) and quoting pithy remarks (he goes to Costco!) SJ merely harrumphed.

"I love you, too," I told him.

"I find that a little hard to believe right now," he replied in a quiet but tolerant voice.

I could try to explain. Though a Twilight reference would be lost on him, I could try to make my husband see that he is the Edward to BW's Jacob. Both can coexist in my world, yet SJ will always come out on top.

SJ has no need to worry; my affection will remain unrequited. I couldn't even bring myself to ask for an autograph. Twelve rows away is close enough.

And really, it's not my fault; the man is irresistible. As we left the Newseum, I turned to Pete. "Admit it," I said. "You're in love with him now, too, aren't you?"

"In all honesty," he said. "I already was."