THE STONE COLD TRUTH (25 page)

I
first met Debra when she came to WWE from WCW.

I had gone out to California to do the CBS series starring Don Johnson called
Nash Bridges,
and Marissa McMahon, Shane’s wife, who’s both beautiful and intelligent, came with us to help out with PR and stuff. I was telling her about my woman situation and that I would kind of like to meet someone from the South.

I remember telling her “from the South,” and then here comes Debra in WWE. She was born and raised in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, she was gorgeous and I liked a lot of things about her personality—for instance, that she was extremely strong-willed.

I had recently gotten divorced and Debra had been divorced for several years already. I enjoyed meeting her and I enjoyed making her laugh.

I didn’t fall in love with her right away though, just like I didn’t love Jeannie right away. Sometimes that “DTA” thing of mine can be a pain in the ass. But a mutual attraction formed, and Debra and I eventually turned into a solo item.

During this time, I really started making some big money with WWE—$167,000 in my first year alone. Then it kind of skyrocketed due to the popularity of Stone Cold, with both merchandise and wrestling revenues going up.

I was finally able to write the Internal Revenue Service a check for the $360,000 that I owed them! Other than my daughters being born, paying that debt off to the government was one of the greatest moments of my life. I thought I would be in debt up to my neck for a very long time.

Debra moved in with me in 2000. I had a twenty-foot slide-out camper that I took deer hunting and we lived in my driveway for a few months with my girls. That’s when I started looking for a ranch—a real ranch. Hell, this was Texas and I needed a Ponderosa, or so I thought. I eventually bought a 118-acre ranch outside of Boerne.

When I sold my other house there, I think I still owed Vince $30,000 for it, but he said I didn’t have to pay him back. Vince has done a lot of cool things for me and I’ve done a lot for him too. It’s been a good partnership, and I’ll never forget Vince’s generosity. The guy has a good heart, contrary to what many of his jackass critics like to say.

So Debra was living with me in the camper, and then I bought the ranch. We were together for not even a year maybe, and I thought, This is the one. I told Jack Lanza that I was going to ask Debra to marry me.

He said, “Good for you, Steve, congratulations.”

I later went on Howard Stern’s show and told him I was getting married to Debra. Man, did Howard rag me on that, talking about getting prenups and warning me about what I was getting into.

In attendance at the wedding were Ricky and Sandra, my mom and dad and Jan Ross and her husband, J.R. Debra and I got married at the same chapel in Las Vegas that J.R. and Jan did, the Little White Chapel. I think Michael Jordan got married there too. So did “Brother Love,” Bruce Prichard and Frank Sinatra.

I remember the night before we got married, Debra was with some friends at a restaurant, and Ricky and Sandra and I came to the same restaurant. But it was crowded and they didn’t have any chairs where she was eating. We had to eat in a different area, but still near them.

I was about to go over and say hi to them when Debra came over to me and cut this scathing “promo” that I didn’t come over and sit with her and her friends. I should have known at that moment that Marriage Number Three wasn’t such a great idea. Nonetheless, we got married the next day. My gut told me one thing, but my heart was talking a little louder.

Two years later, the incident at the house happened. The police were called and it got national media attention.
You
can talk about it, read about it, and discuss it. I can’t—legal reasons. Then we got divorced, which I can’t give details on either. There is a gag order. All I can say is I truly regret the whole ordeal.

Because of our strong personalities, Debra and I often argued like cats and dogs, but I loved her to death. I just need my time to myself sometimes. I can be a moody bastard.

I think my walking away from the company was probably one of the key factors in my divorce from Debra. Between that and all the ephedrine and coffee I was putting in my body, it wasn’t good. And I’ve got a short attention span anyway, so I have a hard time sitting still. Debra used to say that I was part Gypsy because I always had to be doing something.

Even when I was home, I wasn’t really home. I was just a restless spirit, and that made her a little crazy sometimes. If you tried to stay
around me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, maybe you’d have gone crazy too.

If Debra and I had stayed out on the road, we wouldn’t have had so much time to be right there under each other’s feet all the time. We were damned if we did and damned if we didn’t, it seemed.

Every time I turned around at the house, there she was. If I went up to the grocery store, there she was. If I went to the gym, there she was. It was 24/7 constant togetherness. I know a lot of people would treasure that, but some people like the kind of life where the guy is out on the road, like a truck driver or a traveling salesman. You don’t get to see your loved ones that much, but it turns out to be a blessing in disguise.

In our case, we were just together too much. It was one of those things where we were too much alike and with two strong personalities, it was just too much. It went haywire. D-i-v-o-r-c-e Number Three. I’m sure as hell not proud of my failed marriages.

But I love Debra, God bless her. I used to drive her nuts sometimes because I don’t hear real good out of one of my ears. Sometimes she’d tell me something and I’d say, “What?” She’d repeat it, but I still wouldn’t hear her, so I’d say, “What?” And she’d get mad thinking I was doing the “What?” gimmick to her like I use on TV.

That was unintentionally funny. It happened all the time if she didn’t talk loud enough at me. What? What?
“STEVE!”
She probably thought I was messing with her, but I honestly can barely hear thunder.

When I bought that prize-winning steer for charity with “Mattress Mac” in Houston a few years ago, it was right before
WrestleMania X-Seven,
which sold out the Astrodome. WWE had a huge fan festival going at the convention center for several days before
WrestleMania
called
Axxess.
They put the steer we bought, Shorty, on display for the fans to see. It had a sign on the pen saying that it was owned by Stone Cold Steve Austin.

The problem was that Debra loves animals (she’s always had lots of cats and dogs) and she fell in love with Shorty. He was a pretty cute little steer, but he was sold for charity. Shorty’s future was already pre-arranged
and that didn’t include coming home with us. Ol’ Shorty was earmarked for eatin’.

Anyway, Debra is a sweetheart. It was one of those situations that just didn’t work out. We loved each other and neither of us ever cheated on the other one. We still communicate and if she ever needs my help down the road, I would help her in a heartbeat.

In my second marriage with Jeannie, I did cheat on her a few times. They were just a few one-night stands, nothing memorable. It was a payback thing, because I thought she had cheated too. But I never cheated on Debra—not even once. I’m proud of that fact and that’s the way a marriage should be. I really wished ours would have worked.

Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Because of the way my last divorce went, I have a hard time trusting women. Hold it—
did I just say that?
I have no animosity toward Debra; we still talk a lot. I have no animosity toward Jeannie either. We still speak to each other—even though when WWE was in the U.K. recently, Jeannie did not let me see my girls. That was like a sledgehammer to the head.

I’m not mad at women, but I’ve made changes. I don’t want to go out and have casual sex with everybody. That’s just not a good idea, either from a mental standpoint or a medical one. I prefer to be monogamous.

You can’t go out looking for a relationship. It’s going to have to be one of those things that one day just happens. I understand that now, so I’m just laid back and I do my thing, and try to make some money and keep busy.

J.R. once told me he never thought he would ever remarry, being a “two-time loser,” but then,
bang,
he met Jan. My Oklahoma friend got lucky. As he says, he “overachieved.”

I like being with just one person. I’m not into the hunt—you know, when you’re a man on the road, traveling with USWA, WWE, WCW, you have the potential to be with four to seven women a week. For many men, that’s a dream lifestyle. For me it’s a nightmare. I’ve always been into the one-person deal.

I was with Kathy for ten years, Jeannie for eight years. And Debra
and I were together for four years. So I’ve been with essentially three women in twenty-two years, with the exception of a handful of bad judgment calls. I would still like to find that one special woman.

I’m eligible as we speak, but remember, I’ve got that Dracula cross thing going on. I want a psychological profile on the next person who seems interested in me. What are you, who are you and why are you? What do you want? Do you like Steve Williams, or do you like Stone Cold? Do you want to be with me or with the TV character?

I want to believe that I will be better with my next relationship. My luck with women ain’t nothing to brag about, but I keep thinking that someday I might get it right.

On the other hand, I don’t see myself ever getting married again—at least not for the next ten years. Anyway, that’s how I feel today. But I know that that kind of feeling can change if lightning were to strike.

I was out eating with my friend and personal trainer, Skyler Craig, the other night. This cute little waitress was flirting with me, and of course my natural “charm and wit” were adding to the situation. After the waitress smiled and left, Skyler leaned over and said, “There goes your next ex-wife.”

Uh-uh.
Ain’t happening.
At least, that’s today’s story and I’m sticking to it.