Head over to GQ to get the whole story, but here are the juicy bits. High fives all around!
...Chris Evans arrived on time at Sonny McLean's, an Irish pub in Santa Monica chosen for no real reason other than we're both from Boston, and Boston has lots of Irish bars. He showed up in aviators, a red T-shirt, and a backward baseball cap pulled down to his eyebrows. "How aggressive can I be?" Chris grinned. "Shots?"
...Since we're both single and roughly the same age, it was hard for me not to treat our interview as a sort of date. Surprisingly, Chris did the same, asking all about me, my family, my job, my most recent relationship. And from ten minutes into that first interview, when he reached across the table to punctuate a joke by putting his hand on top of mine, Chris kept up frequent hand holding and lower-back touching, palm kissing and knee squeezing. He's an attractive movie star, no complaints.
...Maybe they make cigarettes differently in L.A., but when you share one with a movie star they're amazing. Everyone should try it.
...Despite his publicist specifically telling him not to, he invited me to come to his going-away party.
...In the vast backseat, Chris was even more flirtatious than before, touching my arm and my knee. At this point, which was a...number of drinks in, it was easy to forget that it really was an interview, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind that something might happen (and that we'd go to the Oscars and get married and have babies forever until we died?). But there was always the question of how much of it was truly Chris Evans, and whom I should pretend to be in response.
...The club was dark, it was loud, partially naked ladies in storm-trooper helmets were dancing on a raised stage and waving colorful lances, and perfect-looking people of indeterminate age were lounging around looking bored.
...There were intermittent visits from Chris for enthusiastic hand holding and cheek kissing, which by then seemed less like flirting than an alcohol-exaggerated but instinctual need to make sure people never looked bored and were always taken care of and never sitting by themselves. Unfortunately for me, it was all downhill from there.
...So he corralled me back to his house, put me in a guest bedroom to sleep it all off, and told me he'd drive me home in the morning. In the span of ten hours, we'd fast-forwarded from complete strangers to people who let each other pass out in their houses...We were friends, in other words, but not quite.
..."So then my buddy's like, 'I think your friend is having some trouble,' " Chris says, "and I look over, and there's Edith in the gutter!"
...When I awoke at 5:30 a.m., I slipped quietly out the front door...eventually a very pretty, blonde, possibly Asian transsexual and her much younger male friend pulled up to make sure I was okay and, instead of raping and murdering me, were very sweet and drove me back to my hotel.