My Life as Bobby Darin's Wife

This article, written by Sandra Dee, appeared in
the April, 1961 issue of Movie Mirror Magazine.

Well, this is my first column as Mrs. Bobby Darin. And I guess, now that I look back, it's as much as a surprise as it was to everyone else.

But regardless of what you've read, my marriage was not impulsive nor have I become a young wife without a serious, almost solemn, awareness of my responsibilties.

As those of you who have been following this column know, I have at times taken a girl's relationship with a boy a little lightly. But only when it was no more than a matter of casual dating. As you also know, however, I always slowed down when it came to going steady and falling in love.

In a way, writing this column for you has been as much help to me as, I hope, on occasions, it may have been to you. What I mean is that from all the thousands of words I have written and all the thousands of wonderful letters I have received from the readers of MOVIE MIRROR I have learned to know myself better.

What I am trying to say is that though it may have appeared that my marriage to Bobby was impetuous, it wasn't. In some ways my romance with Bobby was like a modern-day love story. Because, I must admit, when I was first told that Bobby Darin was to appear opposite me in Come September, I shook my head slowly and said to my mother, "I need that guy like I need another head."

Oddly enough it was Mom who cautioned me not to judge Bobby, nor anyone, so harshly. "Why don't you find out what kind of a man he is for yourself?" my mother pointed out.

Gosh, am I glad she did. I didn't in the beginning. As I've said, I first met Bobby at a rehearsal on the set in Italy. Honestly, I said to myself, here is one man I could never like.

And would you believe it, for days I said only "Hi" or "Hello" to Bobby? Oh, we were friendly in a way. After all, we were making a picture together and as an actress it was my duty to try to get along with him.

As the weeks went by, however, I began to realize that much of what the public and others saw of Bobby was a kind of carefully contrived outer personality that really was quite different from what he was underneath.

At first I didn't know why. One afternoon Bobby asked me to go along as his date with a few of the other young members of the cast. We were going to roam around Rome, see the sights and have a little fun. Actually I was feeling a little guilty about the way I had been treating Bobby. And since he had taken it all so goodnaturedly I said okay. That was how it really started. A date with a man I didn't like very much. But off the set I saw a side of Bobby I didn't even suspect existed. He was happy, intelligent, polite without ceremony, remarkably considerate of others and so attentive and kind to me that I couldn't believe it.

After three or four dates with Bobby I discovered the reason for that shell he had built around himself. He had been hurt by love before, a couple of times. He was not that bitter nor resentful nor cynical about it. He had just decided that he wasn't going to get hurt again. And I didn't blame him.

It's difficult to say just when I fell in love with Bobby. That moment, that instant, that excruciating lovely part of a second when something happens inside you and changes your whole life. (Bobby says that, for him, there was "no time." That when he first saw me he knew he'd fall in love with me and marry me. And that, for Bobby, was that.)

Perhaps it's different with a girl. All I know is that one day, quite without warning, the sky seemed bluer and I felt like singing. Everything was lovely. But there is one particular moment I remember well. Bobby and I were going straight to dinner from the set. I was in my dressing room having the devil's own time with my hair. It just wouldn't do what I wanted it to do. Bobby stuck his head in the doorway. "C'mon, Sandra, we're late now," he said. "You'll have to wait until I fix my hair," I replied.

Bobby laughed. "Forget it," he said, "it looks wonderful, just the way it is." Maybe love hit me then. Maybe that was the moment, that instant when a man, in his own way, says, "It doesn't matter what you look like, nor what you are, nor what you think. None of that matters at all. I love you."

And now that I know that, it's easy to explain why I love Bobby.

Very simple, really. He makes me happy.

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