Blink-182's Mark Hoppus details 'awful' date with Melissa Joan Hart in new memoir “Fahrenheit-182 ”(exclusive)

Blink-182's bassist and vocalist Mark Hoppus did not find magic with Melissa Joan Hart when they went on a date. But that very same night, he did fall in love with the woman who would become his wife. So in a way, the rocker did live happily ever after.

Entertainment Weekly has an exclusive excerpt from Hoppus' new memoir, Fahrenheit-182 (available April 8), in which the Blink-182 founding member details his "awful" date with the Sabrina the Teenage Witch actress more than 25 years ago. Hoppus reveals that, after they failed to connect over dinner, he cut it short, only to end up talking on the phone all night long with MTV booker Skye Everly. And that's where the real magic happened — Hoppus and Everly fell in love, got married in 2000, and had a son, Jack Hoppus, two years later.

Hoppus' raw, hilarious, and unflinchingly honest memoir chronicles his life and career, beginning when he was just a kid coping with his parents' bitter divorce before following him as he constantly moves around the country, struggles to figure out his identity, and eventually meets his best friend and musical soulmate Tom DeLonge ... and everything changes.

Along with his coming-of-age story, Fahrenheit-182 also recounts the rise, fall, breakup(s), reunion(s), and rise (again) of pop-punk trailblazers Blink-182, as well as Hoppus' battles with anxiety, his cancer diagnosis, and his recovery.

Read EW's exclusive excerpt from the book below.

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Later that night I went on a date with the actress Melissa Joan Hart. She and I had met at the Teen Choice Awards, and she must've found me interesting because she had her publicist reach out to my label's publicist to give me her number. Totally normal courtship. When we got on the phone, I played it cool. "Oh, awesome, yeah, I'll be in L.A. shooting my new music video, so we should have dinner after I wrap." I thought I was so slick using this Hollywood industry jargon, but I doubt it impressed her. I was newly famous, but she had been famous for years.

Melissa and I went to a sushi restaurant in the Valley. It was an awful date. She was very nice, but we weren't connecting. Everything in her life revolved around acting, and it was hard to relate to her about anything else. I'd ask what she liked to eat besides sushi and she'd say, "Well, I'm usually eating whatever catering provides on set." I'd ask what she likes to read, and she'd say, "Well, I'm usually reading scripts for work." And I'm sure from her perspective, all I could talk about was music. We just weren't a great match. It was tough.

After dinner she took me to her house and showed me around. She had a beautiful place nearby with a view that overlooked the city and a huge hot tub. I thought she might be hinting that we should get in the tub. I told her I had an early set time and that I should probably get going. She dropped me back at my hotel.

When I got to my room I checked my messages on my cell phone. Skye had left a voicemail asking me to give her a call. I called her back and some light pleasantries quickly turned into deep conversation. We talked about everything. We talked about where we grew up and what our families were like. We talked about our careers. We talked about our favorite albums. She liked more pop stuff and wasn't familiar with the underground punk bands that I named. She liked rock music generally, though, and that was close enough for me. We talked for so long that the sun came up and we realized we'd talked all night.

On set the next day, I kept trying to get Skye's attention, but she rebuffed me harder still. We just spent all night talking and now you won't even look at me? What the hell! Just an iron wall of professionalism.

I filmed a scene that day where two sexy groupies flirted with me and poured hot wax on my chest. But after the cameras stopped rolling, one of them kept flirting with me. She whispered in my ear, "I was just in Penthouse. Do you want to see my spread?" My bluff was called. As much as we joked about our dicks on stage and put porn stars on our album cover, in real life, we were just a bunch of kids playing rock star. I didn't know what to say, so I just shrugged and said, "Not really?"

The third and final day of the shoot was August 6. Skye told me it was her birthday and invited me to a dive bar in Hollywood called Power House after work. She said her friends and some music industry people would be there. She and I were the first ones to arrive. We sat at the bar and drank Diet Cokes. An older guy next to us struck up a conversation, asking what our story was.

"Oh, us?" I answered. "Well, we're married."

Skye didn't miss a beat and backed me right up. "And we have one kid, a boy."

We made up this elaborate life for ourselves, filled with love and adventure. The guy bought it all and we chuckled internally at our shared fiction.

After the party, Skye drove me to my hotel. We parked in the valet drop-off area and Cake's "The Distance" played on the stereo of her Jeep Grand Cherokee. Right when John McCrea sang, "He's going the distance ... " I summoned the courage to go for it. I leaned in to kiss her and she kissed me back. I still remember her perfume. Angel. One kiss became several. After a while the valet gave up and went back inside. But I got too cocky. I reached up, grabbed a handful of her hair, and tried to pull it in a sexy way. I admit it was a move way beyond my skill level. She pulled back immediately. "I don't like that. Stop doing it." Sorry, sorry, sorry.

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We started dating in secret. I made weekly trips from San Diego to L.A. to stay with her. Those became daily trips. Then I just started staying at her apartment. In the mornings she went to work, and I'd look for ways to kill time. I didn't know anyone in the city, so I usually went to the MCA offices and bothered the employees. Weeks turned into months, and we continued keeping our relationship quiet.

Skye was great at what she did. She was the one who could get Mariah Carey on the phone, could coax Madonna out of the dressing room, and could find Steven Tyler a full-length mirror when he refused to go on during a live broadcast without one. She can listen to a new song and tell you it's going to be a hit. Six months later, it's the biggest song in the country. I thought my new music industry connections made me so important, but none of that mattered to her. She had heads of record labels and film studios calling her constantly, begging to feature their new stars on the many MTV shows she booked.

One night, after we were more public with our relationship, I brought Skye to a celebrity gala. After dinner, a woman came to our table and told me Jay-Z wanted to meet me. Holy fucking s—. Jay-Z knows who I am? And wants to meet me?! I had to play it cool.

"Why, yes, I'd love to meet Mister Z. Hey, Skye, want to go and say hi to Jay-Z? Apparently, he wants to meet me?"

We followed the woman through a maze of tables. Jay stayed seated when I arrived but shook my hand and gave me a one-armed bro hug. "Mark Hoppus! I'm a big Blink fan. Love what you guys are doing, man. Keep it up." I don't even remember what I said in response. Probably something about being honored and thank you and likewise. I think I asked him if he liked the fish? Then I gathered myself. This was my big chance to impress Skye.

"Jay, please allow me to introduce you to my girlfriend —"

Before I even finished my sentence Jay jumped out of his seat. "Skye! Oh my God! How've you been?" He hugged her hello and I realized that they'd worked together a million times before on MTV specials. He asked about her coworkers. They caught up about mutual friends. Chatted it up about labels and videos. I stood off to the side, wishing someone would invent an iPhone so I'd have something to look at. I might've been a famous musician, but Skye was the cool one in our relationship.

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Excerpt from Fahrenheit-182 by Mark Hoppus. Copyright © 2025 by Stupid Idiot, Inc. Used with permission by Dey Street Books, an imprint of HarperCollins. All rights reserved.

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