Barbra Streisand and James Brolin are celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary this year. The couple opened up about their journey together and reflected on what it means to find love later in life.
They recently revealed a surprising secret about their relationship that had been kept secret for years. Read on to find out what they shared!
Their love story, like many others, began with a blind date. Barbra was dating James, but had a different idea of what he would look like. She expected a man with a full head of hair and a beard and was surprised to find Brolin bald.
True to her easy-going nature, Streisand didn’t hold back and jokingly pointed out that his hair was a bit messy. Instead of being offended, Brolin immediately felt a connection and realized she was someone special. While it took Streisand a few more outings to fully accept her feelings, the two soon fell in love and married in 1998.
This was not her first marriage; Streisand was previously married to Elliot Gould from 1961 to 1973, with whom she has a son, Jason. Brolin has also had two previous marriages, first to casting agent Jane Agee for 20 years and then to Jane Smithers for almost a decade. From these relationships he has three children: Josh, Jess and Molly, and four grandchildren: Eden, Trevor, Westlyn and Chapel.
Brolin often expresses his deep affection for Streisand, once saying: “Every night is a new adventure. Sleeping is a waste of time. I can’t wait to see her again in the morning”.
In a recent interview with Gayle King on CBS Mornings, the couple celebrated their milestone anniversary by sharing a surprising revelation: Brolin was celibate for three years before meeting Streisand.
“I was literally abstinent for three years and I asked myself: ‘Who needs that?’” he confessed, which provoked disbelief from King. Streisand playfully admonished him, shouting: “You can’t say that!”
When asked about his long period without intimacy, Brolin explained: “I had no interest in getting involved in a crappy situation”. Reflecting on their connection, he remarked: “After three years, that must have been one hell of a night?” to which he replied: “Wild!”
His reluctance stemmed from his previous marriages, as he did not want to enter into another unfulfilling relationship. However, a friend encouraged him to meet Barbra and the rest is history. It took some persuasion, but after asking her three times, Streisand finally agreed to marry him.
It’s surprising to learn that Brolin was celibate for such a long time! Their story is heartwarming and shows how they found each other despite all the odds. What do you think about their pairing? Share it in the comments! Feel free to pass this on to others to know their thoughts!
I Opened a Mysterious Door in My Cellar—Now I Regret Everything
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
In the back corner, we found something even stranger: an old wooden chest, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was locked, but the lock seemed weak, like it could easily break. Florence begged me to leave it alone, but I was too curious. I forced it open, and what I saw made my heart race.
Inside were old documents, letters written in a language I didn’t understand, and something wrapped in a faded cloth. When I unwrapped it, I froze. It was a small, strange object that didn’t belong in this world. Florence screamed and ran out of the cellar, terrified.
I should have followed her, but I was too deep into it. I put everything back in the chest and closed the door, but the feeling that something had changed wouldn’t leave me. Since that day, things have been different. Strange noises, cold drafts, and shadows moving where they shouldn’t.
Now, I regret opening that door. Florence refuses to go back into the cellar, and I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know what we uncovered, but I fear we’ve let something into our home that we can’t control. Every day, I wish I had just left the door hidden behind the wallpaper, where it belonged.
Now, the cellar remains locked. I’ve sealed the door with heavy boards, hoping that will keep whatever we disturbed at bay. Florence refuses to go near it, and our once happy home feels suffocating with the tension between us. It’s like the house itself has changed, like it’s watching us.
At night, I hear whispers coming from the floor below. I try to convince myself it’s just the wind or my imagination, but deep down, I know something’s wrong. The object I found in the chest haunts my thoughts—I’ve hidden it away, but it’s like it calls to me. Florence says I need to get rid of it, but I’m too afraid to touch it again.
I tried contacting the previous owners, but they didn’t know anything about the hidden room. They had lived here briefly before selling the house. No one in the neighborhood seems to know its history, and records of the house are vague. It’s like this part of the house was meant to stay forgotten.
I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I just leave it alone, but the strange occurrences are getting worse. Lights flicker, doors creak open on their own, and sometimes, I catch glimpses of something moving in the dark corners. It feels like the house is alive—angry that we disturbed its secret.
Florence is talking about moving, and maybe she’s right. But part of me knows that whatever we let out, whatever we disturbed, might not stay behind. And now, I wonder if sealing that door was just the beginning of something far more terrifying.
I never should have opened that door.
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