The all-knowing "they" say it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but what about simply speaking the truth? If the truth (which is often stranger than fiction) happens to reveal illicit and unflattering information, should it be suppressed simply because the offender is deceased?
It is in that spirit I recount the following sordid encounter with John Ritter, not for its salacious aspects, but as a seeker and speaker of truth. I relay these facts with no disrespect intended, based solely on my recollection and perspective.
Prior to marrying Amy Yasbeck, when John was married to Nancy Morgan (his first wife), it was well-known in certain circles that this beloved family man was a womanizing lech. This statement is not based on rumor, but through personal experience. Hey, why do you think his performance in "Skin Deep" was so good?
It was the mid-1990s, and I was out for a drink at Stanley's (a now defunct bar in Sherman Oaks). John had brought his brother Tom in for an impromptu mini-bachelor party, since Tom was getting married that weekend. John started to flirt with me and invited me to sit at their table. At one point, he leaned in as if to whisper something in my ear. I leaned in to hear what he had to say... and the creep stuck his tongue in my ear and started licking.
I was disgusted and mortified, I didn't know how to handle that moment. I mean, what do you do? Slap John Ritter? Throw a drink on him? I just pulled away uncomfortably and pretended it didn't happen. As the night wore on, he became more drunk, and more lecherous... groping me. Believe me, I was not flattered. It shattered my illusion that he was the "nice guy" as painted in the media. Here was this married man, father of three kids, who was drunk in a bar sticking his tongue in a young woman's ear.
The party wore down. We all went outside and said goodnight. I drove home to my apartment. About 10 minutes later, my buzzer rang and it was John! He had followed me home. How awkward... I told him that, while I was flattered, I would never compromise my morals to be with a married man, famous or not. He was impressed that I turned him down, and we sat and talked until he sobered up enough to drive. John scribbled his name and phone number for "Hearts Afire" on a memo pad, and offered to get me a job on the show. (I never did take him up on that.)
As he was leaving, I mentioned that Tom had invited me to the weekend's dinner at the Bombay Bicycle Club in Burbank, and said that if John felt awkward, I wouldn't attend. He insisted that I should go, and I did. It was rather brazen of me at the time to sit with a group of people that included John and his wife Nancy. Three was definitely a crowd that evening.
Ah well, I can add the experience to the list of strange celebrity encounters I've had through the years while living in Los Angeles. Yes, there were others, and perhaps I'll get around to writing a book or blogging about them as well. Should I have shtupped John Ritter? Nah.
It is in that spirit I recount the following sordid encounter with John Ritter, not for its salacious aspects, but as a seeker and speaker of truth. I relay these facts with no disrespect intended, based solely on my recollection and perspective.
Prior to marrying Amy Yasbeck, when John was married to Nancy Morgan (his first wife), it was well-known in certain circles that this beloved family man was a womanizing lech. This statement is not based on rumor, but through personal experience. Hey, why do you think his performance in "Skin Deep" was so good?
It was the mid-1990s, and I was out for a drink at Stanley's (a now defunct bar in Sherman Oaks). John had brought his brother Tom in for an impromptu mini-bachelor party, since Tom was getting married that weekend. John started to flirt with me and invited me to sit at their table. At one point, he leaned in as if to whisper something in my ear. I leaned in to hear what he had to say... and the creep stuck his tongue in my ear and started licking. I was disgusted and mortified, I didn't know how to handle that moment. I mean, what do you do? Slap John Ritter? Throw a drink on him? I just pulled away uncomfortably and pretended it didn't happen. As the night wore on, he became more drunk, and more lecherous... groping me. Believe me, I was not flattered. It shattered my illusion that he was the "nice guy" as painted in the media. Here was this married man, father of three kids, who was drunk in a bar sticking his tongue in a young woman's ear.
The party wore down. We all went outside and said goodnight. I drove home to my apartment. About 10 minutes later, my buzzer rang and it was John! He had followed me home. How awkward... I told him that, while I was flattered, I would never compromise my morals to be with a married man, famous or not. He was impressed that I turned him down, and we sat and talked until he sobered up enough to drive. John scribbled his name and phone number for "Hearts Afire" on a memo pad, and offered to get me a job on the show. (I never did take him up on that.)
As he was leaving, I mentioned that Tom had invited me to the weekend's dinner at the Bombay Bicycle Club in Burbank, and said that if John felt awkward, I wouldn't attend. He insisted that I should go, and I did. It was rather brazen of me at the time to sit with a group of people that included John and his wife Nancy. Three was definitely a crowd that evening.
Ah well, I can add the experience to the list of strange celebrity encounters I've had through the years while living in Los Angeles. Yes, there were others, and perhaps I'll get around to writing a book or blogging about them as well. Should I have shtupped John Ritter? Nah.
