Meloni returned to New York, the city he loves best. But no actor can avoid Los Angeles and, soon enough, he was back. Again, he bumped into Sherman. That knocked him back: “You don’t bump into people in L.A.” So he left a note at her house.
The stars were, at last, aligned. “But wouldn’t you know it?” Chris recalls, with a wry smile. “Just then, three women dropped into my lap. And, you know, three in the hand are worth one in the bush. So I let Sherman slide.”
It took another two years for Christopher Meloni and Sherman Williams to start dating. Another six months for them to start living together. And another four years for them to marry.
The wedding took place on the beach in Malibu. The theme was medieval, so there were banners fluttering. A nondenominational minister performed the service. The bride and groom held out their goblets, removed the shot glasses inside, and knocked back hits of tequila. And then, because the bride was working on a movie in Miami, she raced to the airport.
Appearence decieve. With his square jaw and intense gaze, Chris Meloni may look like a serious fellow, but when he was a college kid, he decided, more or less on a whim, to become an actor, and he hopped on his motorcycle and roared off to Los Angeles. (Six weeks later, he was back at the University of Colorado at Boulder.) Sherman Williams, on the other hand, may have looked like a hot biker chick, but she was the daughter of an oil executive, a dedicated student at Cal Arts and Parsons, and a Southern girl with oldfashioned values.