Dear Emma Roberts,
In my opinion, you are one of the most beautiful and talented young actors in the business. But I’m sure you get that a lot. I’m not writing this to tell you how awesome you are or how wonderful of a career you have ahead of you. I’m writing this for a completely different reason.
I, Ryan Tyler Hussey, would be honored to take you, Emma Rose Roberts, out on some sort of date. A night on the town, dinner and a movie, lunch as platonic friends—whatever your preference. Don’t drink? We don’t need to drink. Don’t eat? We don’t need to eat. Don’t like movies? YOU’RE IN THEM.
Obviously, this is a long shot, so I’d consider any type of response from you a success. I realize you are extremely busy and I want you to know that I respect what you do. At the very least, I expect you to play my love interest in the movie that is to be made about my life.
But why? Why would a peasant such as myself go out of his way to proposition a celebrity he’s never even met? I’m glad you asked, Emma Roberts. Because I think we’re perfect for each other. I’ve heard that opposites attract, and as far as I can tell, we don’t have much in common…
- You have tons of money; I don’t.
- You grew up in California; I’ve never even been to California.
- You appear on talk shows; I watch talk shows.
- You like to read; I like to write.
- You date movie and television stars; my girlfriends haven’t even been in commercials.
One thing that we might have in common is our love for dogs, unless that movie was a sham. After all, you are an actor—you kind of get paid to lie. But don’t think that I’m calling you a liar, Emma Roberts. I wouldn’t expect you to try to be anyone other than yourself with me. In my vision, I am not dating Nancy Drew or Addie Singer. I am dating the real Emma.
It all happens so fast. In a matter of weeks, we feel like we’ve known each other for years. We frequently go out to sporting events, concerts, and plays, and we sometimes even enjoy a night in together. My family loves you because you’re so down-to-earth, and you have a fantastic sense of humor. Your family likes to reminisce about the time I threw up when meeting your Aunt Julia, but I know it’s all in good fun. Deep down, they trust me and know I have good intentions.
It seems so long ago that you pulled up to my NJ residence in your limousine, yet it feels like just yesterday that I saw your Hollywood smile and unblemished skin in person for the first time. We’ve been together awhile now, and things are starting to get serious. But we’re not like other couples—rather than finding ourselves stuck in a rut, we keep the relationship fresh by trying new things. Instead of letting feelings build up, we know how to talk about them as they develop. We deal with everything as mature, understanding adults.
Just as our lives seem to be falling into the perfect place, the unthinkable happens. One of my dear friends professes her lifelong love to me, and when I tell her she’s crazy, she bursts into tears and rushes to her car. She speeds off before I can stop her, and I know chasing her wouldn’t solve anything. You and I have dinner reservations in NYC, so we get ready and follow through with our plans. However, the aforementioned incident remains on my mind.
I begin discussing my thoughts with you at dinner, but while you say all the right things and look stunning while doing so, I glance around the restaurant and experience a moment of clarity. This is not where I belong. I don’t belong in a fancy, expensive restaurant with a beautiful, talented celebrity. I belong on a couch or in a movie theater watching you on a screen. I politely give you a kiss on the cheek and excuse myself.
Somehow, I find my way home and before I know it, I’m in my car and on my way to my friend’s house. As I pull up, she seems to be on her way out. It’s raining now. She sees me and tells me to leave. I grab her and kiss her like no guy has ever kissed a girl before.
This is where I belong, Emma Roberts. I belong with regular people—people who fantasize about everything mentioned above on a daily basis.
So, to save you the pain—and to save myself the mental distress—I will not date you, Emma Roberts. I regret to inform you that it will probably not work out between us. But at least now you are aware of what could be.
With much love and adoration,