My Most Embarrassing (and Hilarious) Hollywood Story

Whatever you do, don't say Chad Lowe’s name three times...

From today until the new year, I’m largely stepping away from 5AM StoryTalk to focus on my family during this festive time of year. But first, I wanted to share with you my most embarrassing holiday season story. I’m about to provide you a valuable lesson in…well, nothing…except maybe how to avoid making a fool of yourself at film/TV industry parties. It’s the kind of story that only happens when you move to Hollywood to chase your dreams of becoming a screenwriter.

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The setting: Christmastime 2007. I’m 31 years old at this point, and I’ve been invited to one of my first proper industry parties. My first spec script has gone out, but I’ve yet to sell a screenplay. Basically, this is a great networking opportunity.

For context, I’m not talking a party brimming with A-list celebs, but there are a ton of agents, producers, in-demand writers, and emerging and established actors in attendance. Like, hey, look, a regular on “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” is playing pool in the garage.

I’m currently drunk on free wine and stuffed to the point of busting with expensive cheese and charcuterie from the table inside because when you’re a struggling writer, you never turn down free booze/food. I’ve struck up a conversation with a few producers I’ve become friendly with, one of whom will later become one of my best friends in the business.

One of these producers is telling us a story about how he recently attended an awards event during which his wife, also in the business, had awkwardly forgotten to thank him from the stage. It was unintentional, she assured him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling it didn’t bode well for his marriage.

Me: “Oh shit, man, she totally Chad Lowe’d you.”

My friend: “Dude.”

I realize I might have to explain my reference.

“Like when Hillary Swank forgot to thank her husband — you know, Chad Lowe — at the 200 Oscars when she won. She said it was an accident.’

But the rumors at the time of Swank’s Boys Don’t Cry win were it was very much not an accident. Maybe this was just typical celebrity rumormongering; tabloid bullshit. Either way, they were separated by the time this story of mine takes place.

My friend again says, “Dude.”

This time, it now sound like a warning. I now fear I’ve crossed a line because I often put my foot in my mouth. It’s felt like a very chill conversation so far. We’ve all been teasing each other about different subjects, but I’m not married. The guy is clearly suffering, and I’m clearly the World’s Biggest Asshole. I promptly begin to apologize, blaming the wine.

The husband says, “No, man, Chad Lowe.”

“Huh?”

“He’s standing right behind you.”

I glance over my shoulder.

Chad Lowe is looking at me.

Chad Lowe, of all the people in the world who could be having their own conversation right behind me, is looking at me.

I shrink as the producers around me laugh, then hurry away to drink more free wine so I can forget what just happened.

Fast forward to the next Christmas. I’m back at the same house (it’s an annual Christmas event). I’m speaking to my friend again, along with a couple of new producers. We’re having a great time, and the Chad Lowe story comes up. It’s now a great anecdote to share.

So, I loudly begin to recount the “Oh shit, man, she totally Chad Lowe’d you” story because it’s such an unbelievably ridiculous, hilarious story. It gets huge laughs from everyone.

Then my friend says, “Dude.”

“Huh?”

“Dude.”

He looks past me, directing my gaze with his own eyes.

I glance over my shoulder.

Chad Lowe is looking at me.

Again.

“Seriously, dude, fuck you.” — Image by ABC Family, modified by the author

And there you go, my most embarrassing holiday season and Hollywood story, all wrapped up together in one package. May you survive the current holidays without anything so absurd happening to you.

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