this photoshoot was literally sent by Satan to punish ME SPECIFICALLY and i’ll tell you why: because these are pictures not of Your Hot Goofy Boyfriend, Chris Evans, but of Your Sexy and Reliable Husband, Chris Evans, Who Swore Before Your Friends and Families and God to Care for You Forever and Meant It. Your husband Chris Evans likes to listen to old Dinah Washington records while doing the dishes. Your husband Chris Evans loves to make breakfast but never touches the coffeemaker because he’s weirdly convinced that he doesn’t know how to use it. Your husband Chris Evans always smells like detergent and Kiehl’s. Your husband Chris Evans is learning to refinish furniture from Youtube so all your kitchen chairs are stained different colors because he hasn’t decided which one he likes best and “it’s a process.” Your husband Chris Evans loves it when you scratch his head while he’s reading the newspaper. Your husband Chris Evans is considering buying a kayak. Your husband Chris Evans is finally after like 8 years finishing his dissertation on Samuel Beckett’s use of parataxis and hypotaxis and he likes to read passages aloud to the dog because it “helps him think.” (“Per Adorno, paratactical strategies permit the emergence of an aesthetic unity that knows itself to be inconclusive,” croons your husband Chris Evans in his gooboy voice as the dog drools adoringly on his face. “Don’t they? Yes, they do.”) Your husband Chris Evans insisted you spring for a land line when you bought your house because “real houses have phones in them” and you were like, this is a real house and we already have two phones in it, and your husband Chris Evans was like “not cell phones“ with that grossed-out hippie face he gets when he’s thinking about how modern technology is invasive and how he wants to be more present in life, and you were like LOL eyeroll, but then he got his arms around you and was like “i want a phone so people can call us at our house, you know?” and you JUST KNEW he was thinking about when you have kids, and you were like, Oh, God.
