Jennifer Lopez admits not everyone in her camp initially supported the idea to document her romance with husband Ben Affleck in her upcoming “This Is Me… Now” album and companion film.
“As artists, we have to follow our heart and this is me following my heart and doing something that maybe everybody didn’t think was the best idea, but I had to do it,” Lopez tells me.
Lopez is set to drop “This Is Me… Now,” a new album that marks the 20th anniversary of “This Is Me…Then,” on Feb. 16. The Dave Meyers-directed companion short film will be released at the same time by Amazon MGM Studios.
Sure, Lopez has some worries about putting her and Affleck’s life in the spotlight because “we both have PTSD” caused by the media scrutiny they endured back when they first dated, she said, “but we’re older now. We’re wiser. We also know what’s important, what’s really important in life, and it’s not so much what other people think. It’s about being true to who you are.”
Asked if the film is a scripted feature or doc, Lopez explained, “You have to see it and you’ll have to experience it to understand it. That’s why I call it a ‘musical experience.’ Because there’s music, you can see it, you can hear it and then you’ll get to live it.”
A recent teaser for the film included a clip of Lopez saying, “When I was a little girl, when someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always… in love.”
It was almost a year ago when Lopez told me, at the premiere of her rom-com “Shotgun Wedding,” that she would love to act with Affleck again. They infamously co-starred in 2003’s “Gigli,” which bombed both with critics and at the box office. “We talk,” Lopez said at the time. “We love being together and working together so, yeah, you never know.”
Lopez and Affleck initially dated in the early 2000s. Bennifer, as they were often called, came to an end not long after they called off their wedding in 2003. The relationship was rekindled in 2021 before marrying in Las Vegas in 2022.
Lopez and Affleck’s most recent red carpet appearance took place on Dec. 5 in Hollywood when she was honored at Elle’s Women in Hollywood celebration.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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