There are meetings that take place without any fuss. Everything starts to change when someone enters your way for remarkably intuitive reasons. In interviews, Thomas Acda has referred to Esmé Wekker as his “second great love,” and that is how he remembers the day he met her.
There had been another chapter before her. One that began in childhood and lasted for nearly thirty years. After meeting in elementary school, Thomas and Joanneke Meester got married and had a son named Finn-Paul. Their relationship was a long, developing aspect of his life rather than a fleeting moment. When it ended in 2006, it left behind an unusual silence in addition to emotional rubble.
| Name | Thomas Acda |
|---|---|
| Born | March 6, 1967 – Amsterdam, Netherlands |
| Profession | Actor, Musician, Writer |
| Known For | Acda en de Munnik (musical duo), television and film roles |
| Current Partner | Esmé Wekker (married 2013) |
| Children | Son (Finn-Paul) with first wife, Daughter (Lucia Maria) with Esmé |
| Turning Point | Moved to New York post-divorce to study screenwriting |
| Source |
Instead of distracting himself, he relocated to New York. Many were taken aback by his decision, but it was particularly beneficial for him. “I decided to live where I want to live since I was going to be alone,” he said to Flair. He started studying screenwriting there, transforming his isolation into a disciplined kind of creativity. Even while it didn’t guarantee comfort, the city gave him a sense of purpose and anonymity.
He describes their meeting as “the way you meet most people.” by accident. Avoid making a big motion. No predetermined fate. Just a woman who didn’t hesitate to speak her mind and didn’t back down from a challenge. Thomas struggled to persuade her, but he was gradually persuaded by Esmé’s genuineness. She wasn’t impressed. She was authentic. When everything else had seemed unclear, her directness became a kind of lighthouse—calm, steady.
Their relationship developed gradually yet steadily. They welcomed Lucia Maria, their daughter, in December 2010. They didn’t appear to worry if the timing wasn’t conventional. One calm moment at a time, one talk at a time, what mattered was the shape of the life they were creating.
They had already navigated the kind of emotional terrain that most couples avoid by the time they got married in 2013. Their Amsterdam canal house evolved from a place of residence to a place where routine and resiliency coexisted. Thomas, who has always struck a balance between his inner reflections and public performances, decided not to share his family life on social media. That choice was not intended to engender mystery. It was designed to keep the peace.
However, he never erases the past. He talks about Joanneke with sincere affection. Without hesitation, he declared, “She was my first great love.” His speech acknowledges time, change, and the intricacy of emotional seasons without harboring resentment. After all, respecting the past doesn’t require it to compete with the present.
When Thomas was thinking back on his divorce, he made a quiet but honest admission: “I don’t want my wife back.” I long to return to my former life. Given how infrequently it is said aloud, that sentence has a striking resonance. Grief frequently masquerades as a yearning for someone, but it’s really nostalgia for the way things used to feel.
Esmé came into his story to take part in what was potential rather than to fix what was broken. They don’t have a performative connection. It doesn’t revolve around public announcements or red carpets. Rather, it is based on shared timing, emotional candor, and a comfort that seems more and more uncommon in public figures who have spent half of their lives under scrutiny.
Thomas is still creating nowadays. His rhythm is still there in his literature, music, and television. However, his recent interviews seem softer, and his creative process seems to be moving at a slightly slower speed. For the first time in a long time, he appears to be at ease. In the active sense of the word—choosing contentment while being fully conscious of the past—rather than the passive one.
A few years ago, a picture came to light. It wasn’t posed. It wasn’t anticipated. Esmé and Thomas were strolling hand in hand, their posture comfortable, oblivious to the camera. No caption could adequately describe that moment. It demonstrated the uncommon form of intimacy that just exists and doesn’t require attention.
