Dear Emma (Watson),
It has been a week since I last wrote you. I’ve yet to hear from you. I understand that you’re probably busy shooting a movie or something, and that these kinds of letters need to go through the proper channels to get to you. You’re a big star. I get it. But I can’t help but feel a little sad.
This whole unrequited love thing is starting to take its toll on me. Shakespeare wrote so eloquently about it in a variety of different publications, but there’s nothing eloquent about the actual thing: Unrequited love sucks.
Ask Professor Snape. He loved Lily forever to no avail. Then he had to take care of Harry after she died, the kid produced by James Potter, who banged Lily after she spurned poor Severus.
Remember this quote?
“Snape’s patronus was a doe,’ said Harry, ‘the same as my mother’s because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from when they were children.”
I don’t want to have a sad patronus of you from The Bling Ring.
The other thing about unrequited love is that it’s unoriginal. Look at literature, film, and television over the years and there are millions of stories of guys like me who helplessly hope to have “popular” girls like you in our arms.
The Hollywood ending to this kind of story is that another girl in my life – whom I currently underappreciate – gets frustrated with me and tells me she won’t be my friend anymore. Then, just as she heads to the airport, I realize that all this time it was her who I should have loved and that I was wasting my time on you. I hail a cab to the airport, burst through TSA security checks, make it to my friend-girl’s gate, and get tazed by policemen as I give a heartwarming speech to her entire flight.
I say fuck that ending. Let’s create our own brand-new narrative. You’re creative, smart, and most importantly, original. Do you really want to be the movie star who only dates other high profile peeps with ridiculously high net worths?
I’m starting to wonder if I even want to know that answer to that question.
I don’t know my net worth. If you factored in my college debt, I’d probably be in the negative net worth section. But I’d still pay for your dinner, drinks, and movie tickets. I’m not above you paying either. But that’s beside the point.
Listen, you’re at a level of cool that most people can never reach. But everyone can be better. You seem like someone who is into constantly improving and growing. You know what could bring you to interstellar levels of coolness? Dating an average Billy like me.
I promise to be the furthest thing from K-Fed, Britney Spears’s infamous average Joe husband. That guy didn’t get how to play the fame game. I understand your level of stardom. In our relationship, you’d be the sun and I’d be one of the nine planets. Hell, I’d be Pluto for all I care. Wait, what? Pluto’s not a planet? Doesn’t matter. I’m Pluto.
You’ll find that for a planet – or whatever the hell it is – so far away from the sun that Pluto’s not as cold as you think. Pluto is actually a really warm, caring, thoughtful, and somewhat attractive planet. Many people say Pluto kind of looks like Nick (Jake Johnson) from New Girl without as crooked of a nose. Pluto can live with that, and takes it as a compliment.
I really should have paid attention in astronomy. Anyway, you get the point, Emma. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Why not give me a chance? Let me be your hero, baby. Sorry, I was feeling an Enrique reference today.
Ugh. Unrequited love sucks. It’s like reading poems to a wall. Oh well. I’ll be waiting with a rose, a bottle of the finest champagne (Andre), and a sweet mixtape in my backyard whenever you decide to give me a shot.
Until next week,