Who’s going to tell James Franco that if you have to ask a girl if she’s 18 yet, that means she’s too young for you?
On April 2, the ridiculously handsome actor traded in his lengthy occupation list – producer, director, screenwriter, artist, teacher, poet, writer – for a much simpler title: Creeper.
Franco met Lucy Clode, a 17-year-old visiting New York City from Scotland with her mother, outside of his Broadway play, Of Mice and Men. She shot an Instagram video with him and he told her to tag him. Swoon.
But then shit got weird. Franco and Clode continued messaging back and forth, exchanged numbers, texted about meeting up, and at one point, Franco asked if he should get a hotel room. Clode told him that she would come back when she was 18. The conversation died shortly after, but not before he sent photos of himself to incriminate – I mean prove – it was really him and not an imposter. Despite Clode’s mature decision not to meet up with the face of Gucci’s fragrance for 5 minutes of half-assed lovin’, she did act age-appropriate and posted screenshots for the world to see.
Franco has a slew of fancy degrees, including an MFA from the prestigious Columbia University and a Ph.D. in progress from Yale. His mutant superpowers allowed him to pursue acting and a higher education simultaneously. He’s a Golden Globe winner and starred in great movies like Milk and 127 Hours. But it seems like the one thing he can’t do is keep it in his pants.
Come on, James. You know better than to send selfies proving that it’s really you to a 17-year-old fan. Send them to me instead.
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