Hugh Jackman is back on Broadway, and we got to sit five rows from him (explode into cheers here). And speaking of backs, I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I’m married to Hugh Backman, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

Back to The Music Man. We were so close to him. And, no, not in the spit section; I wouldn’t want to be in that splash zone, even for Hugh. It was phenomenal. And though Sutton Foster was in it, too, and a heck of a lot of other people, this is all about Hugh, glorious, you.

My friend is borderline obsessed (she’s already seen it twice). Another friend said she had been there done that with The Music Man and wasn’t going to see it, but she did, and boy was she happy! And another friend got so insanely excited about me talking about it she went yesterday.

Why do we love Hugh so much? He raz-dazzles us with his showmanship. Even when he messes up, he does so with a twinkle in his eye as if to say, let’s not take this so seriously.

Or is he serious? It’s like a magic trick. You want to know how the magician does it. He’s just that good.

Maybe if we study him long enough, watch every YouTube video, and read every interview we can get our hands-on, he’ll reveal his secret. How does he do it? Boy, would I love to hunt him down and ask him.

But then I have to stop myself. Hugh’s never going to talk to me, no matter how much I rave and scream about him from the audience. So we’re just going to have to figure this out independently. And, maybe, now that I’ve gotten to thinking about it, it’s not as magical as we may think.

Hugh’s willing to do the unthinkable: make mistakes and laugh at himself.

I think about making a mistake, and I already feel the heart attack coming on.

I’m in my second play ever; rehearsal’s started, and trust me, when I do something wrong, it’s not downright adorable.

Hugh makes it look easy to get on stage, that’s his thing, and everyone loves Hugh.

I get on stage, I earn weird faces from the few people watching, act the wrong way at the wrong time, can’t do the dances for the life of me, and somehow manage to be so uncoordinated I can’t remember the words, the dance moves, and rhythm all at the same time. I’m an SNL skit, and nobody’s laughing, especially not me.

Granted, Hugh’s had a lot more practice, so I’m comparing the front of Hugh Jackman to his back. Let’s take something I’m supposed to be good at, say writing.

It’s my mission to joke and make it look light and easy, but it practically kills me to do so. I make my daughter or Alex read it to reassure me I’m not making too much of a fool of myself. I worry that I’m writing in a vacuum, and no one but my two forced editors is even reading me. I don’t want to be a WIP (work in progress). And sometimes I’m tired, and I don’t want to write. Yet, I want to be the real deal (right now).

Maybe you’re like me. You have to do things right, or else. You know that annoying perfectionist thing that we pay to see Hugh not have.

When we take our lives too seriously, we’re robbing ourselves of the best part: having fun with it, yes, even the parts that don’t go as planned. And, those moments especially are the best gifts of all.

I’m not going to be turning into Hugh anytime soon, just like I won’t be scoring that interview, but I’ll try to keep Hugh in mind when I’m getting a little too serious and need to lighten up.

I will have to go back to see The Music Man again. I’m afraid I couldn’t take my eyes off Hugh, so I can’t truthfully say how anyone else was. I think he had a different facial expression for the entire length of the show.

But since I can’t run to Broadway every weekend, luckily, I have a husband who some have claimed looks like Hugh Jackman. I won’t go that far; however, I’ll be bold and say Alex looks like Hugh from the back. Maybe he could be Hugh’s back double.

Now when I need a little Hugh in my life, so I’m reminded to stop taking things so seriously, I ask Alex to turn around. He’s my very own Hugh Backman.