This is something I have been meaning to confess for a while now: I don’t actually fancy Chris Evans. Either of them. Which, as I type this out, seems like a crazy thing to state. Especially as for the last eight or nine years, he has appeared to be a bit of an obsession of mine. Buckle up, kids! This is a bit of a weird one….
If you know me in real life, you will have heard me say things about the gentleman in question. For example, if I’m having a bad day in work, more often than not, you will hear me mutter under my breath, “I could have been in New York and married to Chris Evans instead of dealing with this shit”. At this point in my life, it might as well be a catchphrase. I have no desire to get married to Chris Evans. This might come as a shock to some of you but I actually love my husband. On the flip side, if I’m having a good day, and there is a smile on my face, people will ask me what I’m thinking about. Normally, I will reply with, “Chris Evans with his shirt off”, but that’s not true. The last time I was asked this, I really thinking about the time that my fat cat peed on his own foot, freaked out because “water” had touched his paw, and headbutted the wall trying to escape from his own stream of piss. As you can imagine, explaining that one in work makes me sound like a bit of an odd-ball. “Chris Evans shirtless” is a socially acceptable answer to grinning and giggling to yourself (apparently).
So, where did this come from? We need to go back a few years to when I was pregnant with my third child. A friend of mine was getting married. For the Hen Weekend, the Maid of Honour was arranging some games and needed to know everyone’s celebrity crush as she was ordering masks with their faces, I can’t remember the context or the game that was planned for the masks. At the time, the closest thing I had to a celebrity crush was the singer and guitarist of Green Day, Billie Joe. Unfortunately, she could not get me a Billie Joe mask. She managed to get herself a Christopher Walken mask, but no BJ’s for me. As she was texting back and forth, trying to determine if there was another celebrity I would not kick out of bed, Chris Evans appeared on screen with his shirt off in Captain America. Don’t worry, I was watching it with my husband. As I looked over the top of my pregnant belly, swearing off men for all of eternity because I was very pregnant and the thought of a man doing this to me again made me want to stab someone in the face, I clocked those shiny pecs on my TV screen. Guess what my thought was? If you said “oooooo daddy” or anything along that line, ya nasty, go sit in the corner. No, my thought was, “huh, he’ll do”.
Ever since that moment, that poor bastard has been my go-to for social situations. If you are confused by what I mean by this, go and read the second paragraph again. But because of that moment, he’s become a bit of an Easter Egg in my daily life. My husband is fully aware of how I developed this “crush”. He also knows that it isn’t real. And with this knowledge, it’s become a joke between us. I understand it, he understands it, but to the outside world, it’s starting to look like I’m an obsessive fan who is biding their time, stalking him like prey. I don’t think I follow him on social media. Maybe I do. I honestly don’t know because I don’t stalk the man.
I have spoken to him though. And he probably hates my guts. For this little story, we need to go back to Lockdown and the show Defending Jacob. I don’t know how I managed to get on to the virtual Q&A panel, but I did. I would also like to know if the people involved (Michelle Dockery, Chris Evans, and the presenter) could see the questions that were posted by the participants. As a participant, I couldn’t see what people were posting at my end. If I was to take a guess, I would say yes, they could see the questions as they rolled in at their end. I would also take a shot in the dark and propose that most of the comments were pure filth. Why? Because four of the five questions I posted were asked (and I think they only had time for six questions if my memory serves me correctly), and Michelle Dockery was crying with laughter as Chris Evans sat with a face like a Lurgan Spade. Or a well slapped arse. Take your pick. The thing is, as well-behaved as I was, I messed up. No, I did not post something graphic in the comments about his oiled-up man-titties. What I did was so much worse. Because this was technically an interview as part of the promotion for the show, I was taking notes and wanted a screen shot of the interview. Unfortunately, Chris looked pissed. What did I do? Asked if he could crack a smile so I could take a screen shot. The look that man gave down the camera….I knew I had fucked up. So now he hates me, probably.
If you are ever reading any of my stuff and see a Chris Evans reference, now you are in on the joke. It’s not a funny joke. It was nothing more than a random choice I made years ago to appear more socially acceptable within a Hen Party setting. Over the years, it’s mutated into a 7-D shitpost that hardly anyone understands the origin of now. I hope this clears everything up. And Chris, if you are reading this…..er, hi?
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