Parental Update: The Meeting Of Stephen Amell (And Ian Somerhalder)
Time to talk my parents. Specifically my mother. Cause she be crazy. In only the adorable way she can be.
I had dinner with my parents before leaving for Wizard World. Here were her parting words to me....
Mom: Be careful going to Chicago.
Me: We aren’t going downtown Mom.
It should be noted my mother is originally from Chicago. It should also be noted I am forever 12 years old when it comes to my parents. It’s the way it is. I’ve accepted it. So, before you ask...no. I am 33 and not allowed to go to downtown Chicago without a chaperone. Four grown ass women apparently do not count as appropriate chaperones. Sorry my ladies.
Mom: No, I don’t mean downtown. I mean...Stephen Amell.
At this point I stop walking. In the middle of a parking lot. Because...what the hell is she freaking talking about?
Me: What the hell are you freaking talking about?
Mom: You’ll be in a bar.
Me: Yes.
Mom: With Stephen Amell.
Me: Yes. Me and 200 other people, but yes.
Mom: You’re too cute to be in a bar with Stephen Amell.
Listen, I’m a Mom. I get it. I happen to believe my daughter is the most beautiful thing on God’s green earth. In fact, Nick and I just had a discussion during Mass (cause we were thinking about Jesus) about how spectacularly good looking our little rugrat is. We chatted about how Jesus outdid Himself. Had Himself a stellar day when He thought up our Lauren. On all accounts, but the focus of this conversation was on looks. Ya know...completely superficial talk totally appropriate for church. It was 100% unbiased of course. Facts are facts.
Back to my mother. I can understand parental bias to a POINT, but sometimes parents are just crazy. This is an example of crazy. Fandom...I give you my mother gone round the bend.
Me: Mom...is there a scenario in your head that ends with me running off with Stephen Amell?
Mom: Yes.
And no...she is not kidding.
Me: I...wh...I...how...why...
This went on for about a minute.
Mom: I just really like Nick.
Me: Well that’s nice. I like Nick too. Quite fond of him actually.
Mom: That’s good.
Me: Just so I’m clear, in your mind, I get a PAID PHOTOGRAPH with Stephen Amell, introduce myself and he says, “Hey, let’s run away together.”
Mom: I mean, no. Not during the photograph, but there’s the whole bar thing.
I’m not quite sure what kind of bar my mother was thinking Stephen and Drew host their Knocking Point parties at. I have a feeling her image was a lot closer to a speakeasy than a Hilton. Perhaps an establishment owned by a man named Bugsy.
Me: Right. Because during the photograph is insane. The bar, however, makes total and absolute sense.
Mom: I’m just saying...be careful.
Me: If it makes you feel any better it’s not in a bar. They are having the party at a hotel.
Her eyes grew wider with concern. My dad just looked...crabby.
Me: Okay, I guess a hotel doesn’t make you feel better. A hotel is worse. Let’s forgoe locations for now. Setting aside my perfectly happy marriage, have you forgotten that Stephen Amell is married to a MODEL?
She shrugs. It was a complete “eh” shrug. She shrugged at Cassandra Amell. CASSANDRA. FREAKING. AMELL. Look, I’m not fishing for compliments here people. I have a reasonable amount of body confidence and I am blessed with a husband who tells me I’m beautiful all the damn time. But there’s reality. Something my mother has decided to reject. In no world am I prettier than Cassandra Amell and I’m really okay with this.
Me: Okaaaay. Have you forgotten I’m meeting STEPHEN AMELL? Greek God Stephen Amell?
Mom: That’s my point. You’re pretty cute.
Me: This is sounding a lot like the time you said Marc Guggenheim steals my ideas.
Mom: Well he does!!!
Dad: You should be getting twenty percent.
Sigh.
Me: Is promising not to run away with Stephen Amell the only way to make this conversation stop?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Mom. Dad. I promise I won’t run away with Stephen Amell.
Dad: (grumbles) Alright.
Mom: Good. Have fun!
And thus I return home to my loving spouse whom I adore. Inexplicably, Stephen did not ask me to run away with him. I called my mother and I regaled her with tales of my weekend in Chicago. Everytime I mention a Stephen Amell encounter she responds with a suspicious, “Uh huh” or “Hmmm”. For my mother, this is the equivalent of saying, “I’ve got my eye on you buddy.” Because, in her mind, even though Stephen did not ask me to run away with him - the desire was absolutely there. Why you ask? He put his arm around me.
Speaking of - that brings me to Ian Somerhalder.
Mom: Who’s Ian Somerhalder?
Me: He’s on one of my vampire shows.
Mom: Didn’t that go off the air?
Me: Yes, this is a different one.
Mom: How many do you have? I thought you outgrew that.
Me: Mom, there is no outgrowing Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
Mom: Yes, honey.
Me: Anywho, so we go up to Ian and he wraps his arms around me super tight, like a bear hug.
Mom: Hmmm....
Me: And then they take the picture, but Ian didn’t let go.
I’d like to note I am laughing. As this is a HUMOROUS story.
Mom: (very suspicious) What?
Me: He wouldn’t let go. He was just hugging me and Cheryl for like a minute. It was awesome.
Mom: Who is this person? What show is he on? What do you mean he wouldn’t let go?
Me: Mom -
Mom: I don’t like that he wouldn’t let go. Does Nick know he wouldn’t let go?
Me: Mom -
Mom: Those kinds of boys are just trouble. I don’t like that. He should let go.
Me: Mom! Ian Somerhalder does not want to run away with me. He was being nice.
Mom: (completely ignorning me) Was he at the bar with Stephen? Does Nick know - what’s his name?
Me: Ian Somerhalder.
Mom: Does Nick know Ian Somerwhatever was at the bar with Stephen?
Me: Mom - he wasn’t at the bar. There was no bar. Yes Nick knows.
Nick glances over.
Nick: What do I know?
Me: (covering the phone) That Ian didn’t let go of me. Mom thinks he should have let go.
