After All The Heartbreak, Jason Momoa Found New Love, And You’ll Surely Recognize Her

Since Jason Momoa revealed his new girlfriend to the world on Instagram on Monday, the pair has been the talk of the internet.

Though some may be surprised, he has been making subtle references to their long-simmering romance to followers for some time.

When he was still married to Lisa Bonet, the 44-year-old actor got to know the 32-year-old actress on the set of the 2021 Netflix movie Sweet Girl. But there’s a catch!

Momoa and his husband separated for more than five years, although they were still legally wed.

Bonet and Momoa formally separated on October 7, 2020, therefore there was no conflict between them when he and Arjona started dating.

On January 8 of this year, Bonet filed for divorce, and the next day, their cases were settled amicably.

Momoa went all out, creating a carousel of pictures from their most recent trip to Japan, now that he could finally show them all how much he loved them.

He referred to Arjona as “mi amor” in the letter, but if you’re not sure what that means, just look at their adorable pictures of one another.

Their close embrace is depicted through their body language in the second picture, where her hand is softly resting on his arm and his arms are wrapped around her. It’s not laughing!

The writer said, “Japan, you are a dream come true; you blew my mind.” We sincerely thank everyone who opened their homes to us so that we could embark on yet another amazing journey with our beloved and make memories with both old and new friends. Motorbikes and mayhem on the highway. Warm regards, J.’

In 2019, Arjona wed attorney Edgardo Canales; however, little is known about their separation or if a divorce was requested.

Despite the impression that Arjona is a relatively new member of the Momoa family, his stepdaughter Zoë Kravitz chose her to be the director of Blink Twice, which will be released in theaters on August 23 and stars Channing Tatum.

Given that Kravitz and Tatum are now engaged, the wedding is probably going to be spectacular, and Momoa, Bonet, and Lenny Kravitz will probably be there.

Following 13 years of dating, Bonet and Momoa made the decision to tie the knot in October 2017.

The 15-year-old boy Nakoa-Wolf and the 16-year-old daughter Lola are being reared by the ex-couple behind closed doors.

They didn’t declare their split on Instagram until January 2022, writing, “We’ve all felt the strain and adjustments of these revolutionary times. “A revolution is taking place, and our family is not an exception… feeling and growing from the seismic shifts occurring,” said the joint statement.As a result, we inform our families of our impending divorce. We share this not because we think it’s important to draw attention to ourselves, but rather so that we can live morally and authentically in our day-to-day lives.

Wealthy Neighbor’s Son Shattered My Window with a Ball — They Declined to Compensate, but Fate Struck from an Unexpected Source

I marched outside, the offending baseball clutched in my hand like a grenade. Baron Bigshot was in his driveway, polishing his luxury car with the care most people reserve for newborns.

“Hey!” I shouted, storming up to him. “Your son’s baseball just came through my window. It nearly hit my daughter!”

He barely glanced up. “Oh? And you’re sure it was my son’s ball?”

I thrust the blueberry pie-lathered ball in his face. “Unless baseballs are falling from the sky now, yes, I’m pretty sure.”

He sighed like I was some peasant interrupting his important car-polishing duties. “Look, Ms…”

“Angela. We’ve been neighbors for three years.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Right, right. Angela. Do you have any proof it was my Billy’s ball?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Proof? There’s pie filling on it!”

“Ah,” he nodded sagely, “so you admit you tampered with the evidence.”

I felt my eye start to twitch. “Listen here, Baron Big—”

“I beg your pardon?”

I took a deep breath. “Mr. Worthington. Your son broke my window. He could have seriously hurt my daughter. The least you could do is pay for the repairs.”

He chuckled, actually chuckled! “My dear, do you know how much that would cost?”

“Probably less than one of your car’s tires,” I muttered.

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate your tone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a birthday party to prepare for. Important guests are coming, you understand. Out of my property!”

He said that. Yep! No apology. No NOTHIN’.

As he turned away, something in me snapped. “Oh, I understand perfectly. I understand that you care more about your fancy party than the safety of your neighbors!”

He spun around, his face red. “Now see here—”

But I was on a roll. “No, you see here! Your son has been terrorizing this neighborhood for months. We’ve all been too polite to say anything, but enough is enough. You need to take responsibility!”

“I suggest you leave now before I call the police for trespassing.”

Defeated and furious, I trudged back home, the sound of his expensive sprinkler system mocking me with every step.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cleaning up glass and comforting a still-shaken Penny.

As evening fell, the sounds of Baron Bigshot’s party drifted over. Laughter, clinking glasses, and what I was pretty sure was a live band.

I was just about to close the curtains (what was left of them anyway) when I saw something odd. A group of young men in masks, all wearing football jerseys, was marching up Baron Bigshot’s perfectly manicured lawn.

“What in the world?” I murmured, pressing my nose against the wooden window sill divider.

Suddenly, they all raised their arms, each holding a football. And then, in perfect synchronization, they let loose.

Footballs rained down on Baron Bigshot’s party like a sports equipment hailstorm. I watched, mouth agape, as chaos erupted.

Guests screamed and ducked, champagne flutes shattered, and Baron Bigshot himself stood in the middle of it all, looking like a man who’d just seen his worst nightmare come to life.

As quickly as it started, it was over. The football players high-fived each other and jogged away, leaving destruction in their wake.

I was still trying to process what I’d seen when there was a knock at my door. It was Mrs. Stewart, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Did you see that?” she asked, barely containing her glee.

I nodded, still stunned. “What… how…”

She winked. “Let’s just say my nephew’s football team owed me a favor. Thought our dear neighbor could use a taste of his own medicine.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, tears streaming down my face. “Mrs. Stewart, you’re a genius!”

She patted my arm. “Sometimes, dear, karma needs a little push.”

The next morning, I was enjoying my coffee when there was a furious pounding at my door. I opened it to find Baron Bigshot, looking decidedly less baronial in his rumpled pajamas.

“YOU!” he sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You did this!”

I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the moment. “Did what?”

“Don’t play dumb! The football attack! It ruined everything!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof it was me?”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, clearly recognizing his own words being thrown back at him.

I leaned against the doorframe, feeling surprisingly calm. “You know, Mr. Worthington, sometimes life has a funny way of teaching us lessons. Maybe this is yours.”

His face turned an impressive shade of purple. “This isn’t over!”

As he stormed off, I called after him, “Oh, and Mr. Worthington? You might want to consider investing in some wooden planks for your windows. I hear they’re all the rage these days.”

I closed the door, grinning to myself. Penny looked up from her coloring book, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“Mommy, why was that man yelling?”

I scooped her up, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Oh, sweetie. He just learned a very important lesson about being a good neighbor.”

Well, folks, there you have it. Karma works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it? Sometimes it’s swift, sometimes it takes its sweet time, and sometimes it needs a little nudge from a well-meaning neighbor with connections to a high school football team!

So, tell me, have you ever had a neighbor from hell? A Baron Bigshot of your own? Drop your stories in the comments. After all, misery loves company, and nothing brings people together quite like tales of nightmare neighbors!

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