Chris evans dating and relationships
“We used to talk about what kinds of animals we were,” says Slate. Slate didn’t read the coverage, but it was extremely kind, with most articles praising Slate for taking a chance on Evans, or noting that his coolness factor had jumped several notches because of his proximity to her. There was something beautiful, in a year marked by division, to think of these two opposites finding common ground. In her life, though, she’d already spent several months dealing with that loss and having to find a place to live, crashing with friends in Venice Beach in January. Maybe this is an indulgence, but just start over,’ ” she says. I have no idea how they ended up there.” As Slate gives me the tour of her place, Reggie trails her every move. There’s a thick concentration of “productive energy,” which is good, since she has a lot of work coming up, and a giant cloud of worry and overthinking, which seems to be dissipating. “If we didn’t get divorced, we wouldn’t be able to be friends and we wouldn’t be able to do our work. (Her elder sister, Abby, is a nurse-practitioner in Massachusetts, and Slate is convinced her middle-child need for attention is what nudged her toward showbiz.) Covering the top of her dresser are snapshots she hasn’t figured out what to do with, such as the one of her in a revealing tank top at Columbia University, where she went from high-school valedictorian to pothead almost instantly.
“I watched so many times, it was unbelievable,” she says. “Yeah, I did it right.” Eventually, she found this new apartment and purged everything she owned except for a few clothes she loves, books, precious objects, and a velvet chair once belonging to her great-grandmother. By the sink are pot holders she made as a kid on a little loom and a drawing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg that Fleischer-Camp brought her as a housewarming gift. “This is me when I was a slutty virgin,” she explains.
She hates computers so much she doesn’t keep one in the house, and she often turns to books when scrolling through Twitter on her phone stresses her out, which it always does. I’ve never, ever thought to keep anything private because that’s not really what I’m like, and now I’m learning those things, and they’re weird, kind of demented lessons to learn.” She didn’t set out to have a tabloid-fodder romance.
“It’s one of those scenes where you bust through a door making out. Her marriage was dissolving, and she was working only two or three days a week, and spending her days off wandering around Savannah’s many parks and doing yoga and writing that book, About the House, with her dad.
(Which, incidentally, the publisher gave away free with any donation to any charity.) Every weekend, Evans would organize a game night for the cast and crew — usually something called “running charades,” which sounds like high-speed pantomime — that she begrudgingly went to, even though all she wanted to do was hang out on the porch and drink beer and smoke cigarettes.
Now she and Reggie don’t have to run their decorating decisions by anyone. I just love them for what they represent, which is that all my choices are for me.” She turns around. It’s fucking perfect for me.” I have been in her presence for about two minutes.
The star and her bichon frise, Reggie, just moved into this sunny one-bedroom in February, and every time she looks at those pillows, she gets so excited because she remembers how she’d bought them while still married to editor-director Dean Fleischer-Camp, her husband for three years, but had to stow them away because she realized it felt like they were living in a box of tampons.
“He’s really vulnerable, and he’s really straightforward. He has beautiful, big, strong emotions, and he’s really sure of them. His heart is probably golden-colored, if you could paint it.” think I’m beautiful, but if you’ve had a certain lifestyle and I’m a very, very different type of person — I don’t want to be an experiment.” Evans never made her feel that way, but it was hard to get past how so many people seemed to feel some ownership of him and view her as an interloper. But yes, he’s so hot.’ ” Every time Slate mentions Evans, it keeps coming back to the same thing: As much as they loved being with one another, she says, “we’re really, really different,” with different social circles and different lifestyles.