When actor Kevin Costner found out that Prince William wanted to meet him, he didn’t hesitate at all.
Reports say their meeting happened a few years ago, but details were kept secret until now. Kevin Costner, a famous actor who became a Hollywood heartthrob in the 1990s with movies like Dances With Wolves and The Bodyguard, recently shared a surprising story involving Prince William and his late mother, Princess Diana.
Curious to know more? Keep reading…
It’s hard to believe Kevin Costner is now 69 years old. He’s known for his successful career in movies and still has a strong reputation. However, even with his busy schedule, he made time to meet Prince William.
In a recent interview with People Magazine, Costner talked about this special meeting.
According to the interview, Kevin Costner, known for his role in Yellowstone, was in the UK when he heard that Prince William wanted to meet him.
“I was in England when I got the message that the prince wanted to talk to me. I was like, ‘What?’… and then I said, ‘Okay,’” Costner told People Magazine.
“We met in a room, just the two of us. He came up to me, we shook hands… The first thing he said was, ‘You know, my mom had a bit of a crush on you.’”
Afterwards, as reported by Caras, they talked for about thirty minutes. Costner didn’t share everything from their private conversation but said his meeting with Prince William was “nice.”
Years before, there were rumors that Costner and Princess Diana were considering a sequel to the popular movie The Bodyguard from 1992.
“It was something that was moving forward quietly because that’s how I work,” Costner said. He mentioned that Sarah Ferguson introduced him to Princess Diana.
“It was so sweet. Sarah was the one that set this up. Sarah was very cool… when she could have been going, ‘Well, I’m a princess too. What about me?’ She didn’t do that at all. Diana and I began to talk.”
MY HUSBAND SPENT OUR FAMILY’S SAVINGS FOR A CAR ON A PARIS TRIP FOR HIS MOM — SO I TAUGHT HIM A LESSON ABOUT FINANCES.
The weight of the betrayal settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Three years. Three years of sacrifice, of pinching pennies and foregoing simple pleasures, all for a car that would keep our family safe. And he’d squandered it. On a whim. On a trip to Paris for his mother.
David, bless his oblivious heart, seemed genuinely surprised by my reaction. He’d always been a mama’s boy, and I’d tolerated it, even indulged it, to a point. But this? This was beyond the pale.
“It’s my money too!” he’d protested, his voice rising in that familiar defensive tone. “She deserves it! You can’t put a price on gratitude.”
I’d simply stared at him, my mind reeling. Gratitude? What about gratitude for the sacrifices I’d made, for the countless hours I’d spent juggling work, kids, and household chores? What about gratitude for the safety of our children?
I knew arguing would be futile. He was locked in his own world of justifications, and I wasn’t about to waste my breath. Instead, I retreated, a quiet fury simmering beneath my composed exterior.
Over the next few days, I played the part of the understanding wife. I smiled, nodded, and even helped him pack his mother’s suitcase. I listened patiently as he recounted his mother’s excited phone calls, her plans for sightseeing and shopping.
But beneath the surface, I was plotting. I was determined to teach him a lesson about finances, about responsibility, about the true meaning of family.
First, I contacted his mother. I explained the situation, the crumbling van, the precarious state of our family finances. She was mortified. She’d always been a sensible woman, and she was appalled by her son’s impulsive decision. She offered to pay for the trip herself, but I declined. Instead, I suggested a compromise. She could still go to Paris, but for a shorter period, a weekend getaway rather than a full week. The difference in cost would be returned to our car fund.
Next, I tackled the issue of David’s “my money too” argument. I opened a joint account, separate from our everyday expenses, and deposited the remaining car fund, along with the money his mother had returned. I then created a detailed budget, outlining our household expenses, including the cost of a new (used) car. I presented it to David, highlighting the glaring discrepancy between our needs and his impulsive spending.
I also introduced him to the concept of “family meetings.” Every Sunday, we would sit down together, discuss our finances, and make joint decisions about spending. The kids were included, too, learning about the value of money and the importance of saving.
Finally, I decided to address the issue of his mother’s constant demands. I didn’t want to create a rift between them, but I needed to establish boundaries. I suggested that we set aside a small portion of our budget for gifts and experiences for both our families, to be agreed upon by both of us.
The changes weren’t immediate. David grumbled about the budget, about the “unnecessary” family meetings. But slowly, he began to understand. He started to appreciate the sacrifices I’d made, the careful planning that kept our family afloat. He even started to enjoy the family meetings, seeing them as an opportunity to connect with the kids and make joint decisions.
The day we drove our newly purchased (used) car home, David looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “For teaching me.”
I smiled. “We’re a team, David,” I said. “And teams work together.”
Leave a Reply