Numerous Hollywood couples experience their romance failing miserably over time.
It must be difficult to spend your life in the public eye when everyone and his spouse are recording everything you do, not to mention the unfavorable comments on social media.
Pierce Brosnan is frequently depicted as quite the Casanova, despite his reputation for being the ideal charmer on screen and acting opposite numerous stunning leading ladies. But in private, he is a loving husband and the epitome of a family man.
We may all aspire to the kind of connection that James Bond actor Pierce Brosnan shares with his wife Keely Shaye Smith, a journalist, author, and television host.
The ardent couple has been together for more than 25 years, and they still exclusively see each other. Their union demonstrates that real love never fades, even in the face of celebrity, aging, and all the accompanying bodily changes.
For nearly three decades, Pierce and Keely have been each other’s closest friends, lovers, and companions. Seven years after meeting at a Mexican bar, the pair got married and started dating in 1994.
Keely was assigned to interview Ted Danson, but she ended up interacting with Pierce instead. This is how she met Pierce.
Their first date seems like something from a love film. They “sat down under the stars and he held my hand,” according to Keely. Overhead, we could see fireworks and hear Kenny Loggins singing. We conversed till three in the morning.
According to PopSugar, Keely told People in 2001 that “he was captivating.”
Tall, black, and attractive—everything that would make people want to be around you. There was a playful twinkle in his eyes. I was like, “Whoa!” Whoa!
Pierce recognized Keely’s exceptional nature right away.
“I adore her vigor and fire. She possesses a strength that I could not survive without. I become faint when Keely looks at me,” he remarked.
In 2001, Pierce and Keely got married in a dreamy ceremony in Ireland.
It was originally planned for the pair to get married in 2000, but Pierce’s 16-year-old son got into a car accident in the United States. His father decided to put off the wedding, and he ended up with a spinal injury as a result.
But in the end, Ashford Castle—a magnificent Irish fortification from the 13th century—was the venue of Pierce and Keely’s ideal wedding. In addition to inviting 120 intimate friends and family members to the fairytale hotel, Pierce also covered the cost of a robust security operation to keep the public and media at bay.
raising sons in tandem
The couple, who are passionate about protecting the environment and opposing whaling and the extinction of marine life, has two sons.
Given that their two sons were born not long after they began dating, Pierce and Keely were undoubtedly a marriage made in heaven.
Since then, Keely has kept up her impressive work ethic in her own business and has done a fantastic job raising the children. In addition, Keely has done a wonderful job raising Pierce’s children from his first marriage, which ended in 1991 when Cassandra Harris passed away from cancer.
Weight of Keely Shaye Smith
Prior to her relationship with Pierce, Keely worked as a model and was an actress. Keely’s weight has been a hot topic of conversation in the past few years, particularly in gossip publications.
She gained some weight, which is undoubtedly visible to everyone, but who doesn’t as they get older? Keely may have had thyroid issues, according to some media accounts, but I still think she is stunningly gorgeous.
Sadly, because of her shape-shifting, Keely is frequently the victim of vicious trolls. The OO7 actress, meanwhile, claims he still adores his “passionate” wife and that she makes him “weak at the knees.”
He declared, “I’ve found a wonderful woman in Keely Shaye.” “Even after a million searches, I couldn’t find one as good.”
Following her marriage to Pierce, Kelly reportedly put on almost 70 pounds, according to certain tabloids. People in the media have begun to assume that Pierce would divorce his wife as a result of these rumors. Despite this, the couple has never been the subject of cheating accusations and is frequently spotted holding hands and kissing in public.
Naturally, it’s difficult to deal with trolls who criticize Keely’s appearance and try to make her feel inferior. However, Pierce has always supported his wife and frequently declares his love for her in public, which is evidence of how much he cares for Keely.
Furthermore, seeing a Hollywood woman who doesn’t undergo plastic surgery to look younger is quite refreshing. Pierce adores her wife for who she is, and Keely exudes self-assurance.
The love, respect, and devotion the two have for one another has not changed despite the passage of time and their physical changes.
They have no qualms about expressing their affection for one another. Being involved on social media, Pierce and Kelly express their love on Instagram.
For instance, in 2021, Brosnan celebrated his wife’s 58th birthday by posting a heartfelt message on Instagram:
These days, a lot of discussion centers on the tangible and material world. Because of this, it’s consoling to see that Pierce and Keely’s love is genuine and lasting.
Throughout his illustrious career, Brosnan favored to fly his wife to his filming sites in order to spend even more time with her, even though he starred alongside some of the most attractive ladies in Hollywood.
“I would give her tickets to come so we could be together because I missed her no matter where I went in the globe. We simply seemed to click,” he remembers.
Pierce Brosnan has wrapped up his role as Dr. Fate in the action-sci sci-fi film Black Adam. The actor portrays a superhero and sorcerer from the DC Universe in this role.
The 69-year-old actor did, however, take care to maintain certain aspects of his private life consistent with his job. He wore a watch that his late wife Keely Shaye Smith had given him as well as his wedding ring.
“This is our wedding ring and this is a watch that Keely bought me many years ago with an inscription that [reads], ‘Time flies on love’s wings,’” he said in an interview, providing clarification. “I decided to wear it for this character,” he continued. It appeared fitting.
He clarified that Brosnan’s decision to wear these sentimental objects while filming was justified by the fact that it fit his character, who also had a wife. “The man [has] traveled through the ages of time,” he declared. He is among the strongest sorcerers in the DC comic book universe. He did have a wife, Enza, and rumor has it that she was even more powerful than he was.
His wife was clearly overjoyed by the understated but heartfelt homage her cherished husband paid to her in his most recent motion picture endeavor. “I adore those emblems, that he brought those with him into the superpower, superhero realm,” the woman exclaimed.
These two are such a great example to us all; I love to watch them together and wish them many more happy years and memorable experiences.
Please distribute to any fan of Pierce Brosnan you are aware of.
Neighbor Kept Knocking Over My Trash Bins – After 3 HOA Fines, I Taught Him a Lesson in Politeness
When Elise’s trash bins became the target of her bitter neighbor’s antics, she was ready for a fight. But instead of confrontation, she served up banana bread and kindness. What began as a quiet war turned into an unexpected friendship, proving that sometimes, the best revenge is compassion.
When my husband, James, passed away two years ago, I thought I’d weathered the worst storm of my life. Raising three boys, Jason (14), Luke (12), and little Noah (9), on my own wasn’t easy. But we’d eventually found our rhythm.
The house buzzed with the sound of schoolwork being explained, sibling banter, and an endless rotation of chores. We kept the garden alive, argued over who had dish duty, and made a life together that was equal parts chaotic and beautiful.
Things were finally steady. Manageable.
Until the neighbor decided to wage war on my trash bins.
At first, I thought it was the wind or a stray dog. Every trash day, I’d wake up to see the bins overturned, their contents scattered across the street like confetti.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered the next time I saw it. “Not again.”
I’d have no choice but to grab a pair of gloves, a broom, new trash bags, and start cleaning up before the Home Owners Association could swoop in with another fine.
Three fines in two months. The HOA weren’t playing fair. In fact, they’d made it very clear that they weren’t taking my excuses anymore.
But one Tuesday morning, coffee steaming in my hand, I caught him red-handed. From my living room window, I watched as my neighbor, Edwin, a 65-year-old man who lived alone, strolled across the street.
He didn’t even hesitate. With one swift motion, he tipped over my bins and shuffled back to his house like nothing had happened.
My blood boiled.
I was halfway to grabbing my shoes when Noah bounded down the stairs, asking for help with his math homework.
“Mom, please! It’s just two questions. Remember we were talking about it when you were doing dinner last night and we said we’d come back to it but we didn’t,” he rambled.
“Of course, come on,” I said. “I’ll get you some orange juice, and then we can work on that quickly.”
Homework first, trash war later.
The following week, I stood guard.
This time, I was ready.
And sure enough, there he was at 7:04 a.m., knocking the bins down with a strange sort of satisfaction before retreating inside.
That was it. Enough was enough.
I stormed across the street, adrenaline pumping. His porch was stark, no welcome mat, no potted plants, just peeling paint and drawn blinds. I raised my fist to knock, but something stopped me.
The quiet. The stillness of it all.
I hesitated, hand frozen mid-air. What was I even going to say?
“Stop knocking over my bins, you old lunatic?”
Would that even fix anything?
I went home, fuming but thoughtful. What kind of person gets up at the crack of dawn just to mess with their neighbor?
Someone angry. Someone lonely. Someone in pain, maybe?
“You’re just going to let him get away with it?” Jason asked that night, arms crossed and clearly ready to fight for me. “He’s walking all over us, Mom.”
“I’m not letting him get away with anything, love,” I replied, tapping the side of the mixing bowl as I stirred. “I’m showing him that there’s a better way.”
“And when baked goods don’t work, Mom?” Jason asked, eyeing the banana bread batter in the bowl.
“Then, my little love, I’ll set you on him. Do we have a deal?”
My son grinned and then nodded.
But it was during dinner prep, while I was putting together a lasagna, that I thought… instead of fighting fire with fire, what if I fought with something… unexpected?
The next week, I didn’t stand guard.
Instead, I baked.
Banana bread first, specifically James’ favorite recipe. The smell brought back memories I hadn’t let myself linger on in a long time. I wrapped the loaf in foil, tied it with a piece of twine, and left it on Edwin’s porch.
No note, no explanation. Just bread.
For a few days, the banana bread sat untouched on his porch. The bins stayed upright, but I still wasn’t sure what was going through his head.
The next morning, the foil-wrapped loaf was gone. A good sign, maybe.
Emboldened, I doubled down.
A casserole followed the banana bread. Then a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Days turned into weeks, and not once did I see him open the door or acknowledge the food. But he didn’t tip the bins again, either.
“Mom, you’re going soft,” Jason said one evening, eyeing the plate of cookies I was about to deliver.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, slipping on my sneakers. “I’m being strategic.”
The cookies did the trick. That Saturday, as I placed them on the porch, the door creaked open.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I turned to find him peering out, his face lined with age and what looked like years of solitude. He didn’t look angry. Just… tired.
“I made too many cookies,” I said, holding up the plate like a peace offering.
He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed.
“Fine. Come in.”
The inside of his house was dim but surprisingly tidy. Bookshelves lined every wall, stacked high with novels, photo albums, and other trinkets. He motioned for me to sit on the worn sofa, and after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke.
“My wife passed four years ago,” he began, his voice halting. “Cancer. After that, my kids… well, they moved on with their lives. Haven’t seen much of them since.”
I nodded, letting him take his time.
“I’d see you with your boys,” he continued. “Laughing, helping each other. It… hurt. Made me angry, even though it wasn’t your fault. Tipping the bins was stupid, I know. I just didn’t know what to do with it all.”
“You don’t just walk over to your neighbors and tell them you’re miserable,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not how I was raised. You bottle it up and deal with it.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and I felt my frustration melt away. This wasn’t about trash bins. It was about grief. About loneliness.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his head bowed.
“I forgive you,” I replied, meaning every word.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said.
“Elise,” I said. “And I know you’re Edwin. My husband mentioned you once or twice.”
Then, I invited him to join my Saturday book club at the library. He looked at me like I’d suggested he jump off a bridge.
“Book club? With strangers!”
“They’re not strangers,” I said. “Not really. They’re neighbors. Friends you haven’t met yet.”
It took some convincing, but the following Saturday, Edwin shuffled into the library, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t say much that first meeting, but he listened.
By the third, he was recommending novels and trading jokes with the other members.
The real turning point came when one of the ladies, Victoria, a spry widow in her seventies, invited him to her weekly bridge game. He accepted.
From then on, he wasn’t just my cranky neighbor. He was Edwin, the guy who brought homemade scones to book club and always had a dry one-liner up his sleeve.
The bins stayed upright. The HOA fines stopped.
And Edwin? He wasn’t alone anymore.
One evening, as I watched him laughing with Victoria and the other bridge players on her porch, Jason came up beside me.
“Guess you weren’t soft after all,” he said, grinning.
“No,” I said, smiling as I ruffled his hair. “Sometimes, the best revenge is just a little kindness.”
And in that moment, I realized something: We weren’t just helping Edwin heal. He was helping us, too.
The first time Edwin came over for dinner, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He showed up holding a bottle of sparkling cider like it was a rare treasure. His shirt was freshly ironed, but he still tugged at the collar as if it might strangle him at any moment.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I said warmly.
He shrugged, his lips twitching into something that resembled a smile.
“Didn’t want to come empty-handed, Elise,” he said. “It’s polite.”
The boys were setting the table, Noah carefully placing forks, Luke arranging the glasses, and Jason lighting a candle in the center. They glanced at Edwin curiously, a little wary.
Dinner was simple but comforting: roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots, with a loaf of crusty bread and gravy on the side. It wasn’t fancy, but it was one of James’ favorite meals. It was something that always brought warmth to the table, no matter how chaotic the day had been.
“Smells good in here,” Edwin said as he sat down, his eyes darting around like he was trying to take in every detail of the room.
“Mom’s chicken is famous in our family,” Noah piped up proudly, scooping a mountain of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “She makes it the best.”
“High praise,” Edwin said, glancing at me.
We all settled in, and for a while, the only sound was the clink of forks and knives against plates. But soon, the boys started peppering Edwin with questions.
“Do you like chicken or steak better?” Luke asked.
“Chicken,” Edwin replied after a moment of thought. “But only if it’s cooked as well as this.”
Noah giggled.
“What’s your favorite book? Mom says you like to read a lot.”
“That’s a tough one,” Edwin said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe To Kill a Mockingbird. Or Moby Dick.”
Jason, always the skeptic, raised an eyebrow.
“You actually finished Moby Dick?”
That made Edwin laugh, a deep, hearty sound that seemed to surprise even him.
“I won’t lie. It took me a year.”
By dessert, apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, Edwin had relaxed completely. The boys were swapping stories about school, and he was chuckling along, even teasing Jason about his upcoming math test.
As I cleared the plates, I glanced over to see Edwin helping Noah cut his pie into bite-sized pieces, patiently showing him the best way to balance the ice cream on the fork. It was such a tender moment, and my heart squeezed a little.
When dinner was over and the boys ran off to finish homework, Edwin lingered in the kitchen, drying dishes as I washed them.
“You have a good family,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I replied, handing him a plate to dry. “And you’re welcome here anytime. You know that, right?”
He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“I do now.”
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