I checked the clock again. Only three minutes had passed from the last time I had looked at it but it literally felt like an eternity between the stolen glances. It was almost midnight and my husband's flight was supposed to land at nine. He was late…again. I was tempted to call his cell phone to see where he was, to see if his flight was delayed but I knew it was no use. Mike didn't like to be checked up on. It was a major annoyance for him and after all those years being together, I'd learned to pick and choose my battles.

This year will mark two milestones…Mike and I will both turn 30 years old and it will also be our fifth wedding anniversary. It feels like we've been together forever and in a way that's true. We grew up together in Parma, Ohio, a suburban city that surrounds Cleveland. Mike and I grew up two streets away from each other. All our lives we attended the same schools and our parents went to the same dinner parties and social events. It was a common story that happens every day in most middle class neighborhoods. Mike was popular and funny, good looking but a tad obnoxious at times. I'd had a crush on him ever since I could remember.

For years when he wasn't ignoring me, he was teasing me and treating me like a little sister. It took a while for me to grow into my boobs and hips and by the time we got to Normandy High School, he finally began to take notice. We both ran cross country and he was captain of the basketball team. One day we had an away meet and sat next to each other on the bus. That was the first time he kissed me and it was a kiss that sent little electric shocks from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

We dated on and off all throughout high school. It was a classic tale of suburban puppy love. We were the couple everybody envied and Mike was the guy everyone wanted to know. In my grandmother's cookbooks I would scrawl his name in big block letters on every page. I loved him and knew I wanted to marry him ever since sophomore year. I naively thought we'd be together forever and when he took my virginity on the night of our senior prom, I realized I loved him more than ever.

The summer after high school we were closer than ever. Then August came and it was time to go our separate ways. He went off to Miami University and I moved to California to study film at UCLA. At first we e-mailed each other and talked on the phone every day until the conversations gradually dwindled away. We broke up and moved on and eventually I forgot about the time we shared together. My memory was jarred when three years later he appeared on the MTV reality series, The Real World. I admit I never missed an episode.

What the viewers saw was what they got. He was caring and funny, juvenile and cocky, a consummate party animal who often put his foot in his mouth and was sometimes misunderstood. At times I cheered for him while other times I wanted to throw my shoe at the television set. But reconnecting with him via the tube made me realize just how much I missed him. I secretly wondered if we would ever be in each other's lives again.

After the show, he relocated to L.A. to study acting. After I graduated college, I moved into a tiny studio apartment and waited tables while I developed a plan to become the next Sofia Coppola. One weekend it just so happened that both our mothers were in town visiting us. Still neighbors in Parma, they made plans to get together and Mike and I ended up reconnecting. We exchanged phone numbers and never stopped talking it seemed. That was in 2003. Within three months, we were back together. Six months after that, we were living together. He proposed the next year just around the time he was realizing his dream to become a wrestling Superstar.

He auditioned and made it on the fourth installment of Tough Enough and was later selected to train at developmental camps in Georgia and Kentucky. Despite the physical separation and the constant demands of his new career, we were married in 2005 in a small ceremony at the church our families attended in Parma. Our wedding night was spent at the Renaissance Hotel in Cleveland, the place where our folks threw us a wedding reception. There was no time for a honeymoon because Mike had a show two days later. The Miz had been born and thus began my life as the wife of a WWE wrestler.

It got better. Life was different though. The money started to pour in and for me it was nice planning our dinners around something else other than Hamburger Helper. We moved from a one bedroom apartment in Studio City to a condo near the valley. Just three months ago, we bought our dream house. 2700 square feet of four bedrooms and three and a half baths in the Hollywood Hills. It was a foreclosure that we got at the bargain price of two million dollars. Even as I say that now it kind of makes me choke on the words. That's a lot of money, especially for two small town kids from Ohio.

Mike is gone a lot. I miss him. We used to fight about it a lot until he finally caved and got me a job as a production assistant for the company. At first it was just something to shut me up and the powers that be shuffled me around to be on whatever brand the Miz was on at the time. Then they realized how good I was. I love my job and take pride in it. I studied production at one of the best schools in the country. After that, they put me on a schedule more conducive to the needs of the company than those of my husband. We still see each other pretty often. On the weeks we work the same brand we're together constantly but one of the PA's quit on Smackdown and for the last few months, I've been filling in. Our schedules are opposite and now we're lucky to see each other three days a week.

Being apart for so long still bugs me. I bitch about it and Mike just rolls his eyes. He tries to compensate with other things. Whenever I start complaining about anything he just buys me a present. At first it was a car, then this house, then he hooked me up with an interior decorator and gave me free reign to deck out the place anyway I want it with no expense spared. So here I am working my ass off at a job I love with a company I adore. I love my family and friends. I have a beautiful home complete with marble and granite countertops and fixtures, a Jacuzzi, French doors, vaulted ceilings and a balcony with a view to die for. I have everything I want except my husband.

Smackdown was in Seattle and after a few shows, I got home yesterday. Mike was supposed to be flying in from South Dakota of all places but he's not home yet. I checked the clock again. Now it's almost one. Sighing, I blew out the candles on the table. I had cooked him a romantic dinner. It was just pot roast but it's his mother's recipe and he loves it. I decked the place out and set the mood with soft instrumental music and dim lighting everywhere. I'm sitting in a chair wearing heels, an apron and nothing else. It's getting late and he's still not home yet.

I climbed in bed and closed my eyes. I heard his key turn in the lock some time later. He fumbles around downstairs before finally coming up to the master bedroom. He kicks off his shoes and begins stripping at the door, turning the light on as he leaves a trail of clothes behind him. I'm irritated but it all goes out the window when I see the way his tanned and toned abs line up with the waist band of his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. God, my man is sexy and I want him. I love him.

I sit up and let the thin silk sheet fall from my naked body. Health and fitness are important to me so I make sure to take care of myself. I eat right and work out regularly and it shows. I'm proud of my figure and the fact that Mike thinks it's sexy. I keep waiting for him to notice me but he seems to be lost in his own world. As I see him head to the master bath and hook his fingers in the sides of his underwear, I clear my throat. A little attention, please.

"Hey babe, what are you doing up still?" he grins, coming over and placing a chaste peck on my forehead.

"Waiting for you," I explain. "You're late."

Mike just shrugged.

"The flight was delayed and the traffic around LAX was a mess but what else is new, right? Anyway, I ended up having a drink with John and Melina at their place. Guess we just lost track of time."

The explanation ends there and that's good enough for me.

"How was your flight?"

"Long. I'm exhausted. You?"

"Same old, same old. I actually have to fly out tomorrow night so I was hoping we could spend some quality time together. I miss you."

I give him a look, that look and our eyes lock. He saunters over to me and sits down on the bed. He looks down appreciatively, licking his lips as he stares at my nude form. My hands find his shoulders and begin kneading away at the tense tissue. He moans ever so slightly and leans back into me. I kiss his cheek, then his neck, and start working my way down. My excitement for him builds and my body aches for his touch. I'm disappointed when he pulls away.

"Babe, not now," he says.

The words every horny, sex deprived wife dreads hearing.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired. It's been a hectic day. I'm gonna shower and get some sleep."

"You sure all you need is sleep?" I seductively purr.

"Maybe later."

"Mike…" I pout.

He stands and his eyes narrow and I can tell his mood is about to change.

"Claudia, put some ice on it, for Christ's sake. Is sex all you think about?"

Unexpected words from Mike the Miz.

"Sorry, it's just that we haven't seen each other in a few days."

I feel sad and for a few seconds it registers on his face. He looks like he is going to hold me, comfort me just like he used to. But the expression quickly disappears and he moves on to the next thing.

"Guess what?"

I sigh.

"What?"

"You heard about them getting rid of ECW and replacing it with that reality show to find the next WWE Superstar?"

"Yeah. NXT."

"Yeah. Well, guess who's gonna be one of the pros on the first season? Me. Can you believe it?"

I force a small smile.

"That's great, honey. You must be so excited. Do you know who you're paired with?"

"Some douche bag named Brian Danielson but for the show they changed it to Daniel Bryan, I think. Who cares? He's in the big leagues now and it's time to pay the dues. As long as he listens and does what I say, he should have no problem."

"That's a good attitude," I sarcastically mutter.

Mike just ignores me.

"The good news is more face time for me. The bad news is, this poor clown has to basically shadow me around. That's gonna get old for me, not for him though," he winked.

"What does that mean for us?"

"What?"

"For us schedule wise. It just seems like you'll be gone even more now and we won't see each other as much."

"It'll be fine," he blows me off. "Did you see my match last night? It was awesome. I hit this Springboard Bulldog on Kofi and his head hit the mat like bam! Sweet!"

He loves wrestling and I love it too. I admire him for his passion and fully accept that this is a huge part of our life together. Sometimes I just wish he was more interested in other things.

"That's nice, babe, but like I was saying about the schedule. I heard that the pros will be required to make a lot of personal appearances down at the FCW shows. That means more time apart if you have to be in Tampa all the time. I…"

"So what, Claud?"

I see a flash of anger in his eyes.

"Mike…"

"No. I don't want to hear it right now. I don't want to hear you. All you do is complain, I swear nothing is ever good enough for you. It's not like I'm permanently relocating to Florida. You always make a huge, dramatic deal out of nothing. This is my job, no, my dream. You know how I feel about my career. You bitched so much I had to beg and grovel and get you a job with the company and that's still not enough. What more do you want?"

I feel hot tears sting my eyes. I've waited nearly a week to see this man again, to be in his arms. This is not the reunion I wanted or expected.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Mike. It's stupid. I know you're tired. I, I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm getting in the shower," he stalks off.

And now I'm left all alone staring at the clock again. It's nearly two a.m. now. My bottom lip trembles and I don't even try to stop myself from crying. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.