And usually, on the heels of a guy letting me know they aren’t interested — thanks, Samson —I would drink a bottle of Pinot Grigio and order an extra cheese pizza while watching How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days. But, this was a new me. A new Ava Grace who could be more like my responsible, sensible sister.
So instead of indulging in liquid calories and a carbalicious crust, I bake a chicken breast and sauté some broccoli. I have one sensible glass of red wine – because of the heart-healthy benefits – and instead of watching Gilmore Girls reruns in bed, I make a cup of chamomile tea and download Amazon’s Top Literary Fiction pick of 2017. Yes, it sounds boring as fuck, but that is the point here.
The next morning I wake determined to be my best self. After getting ready for the day I sit down with yogurt and blueberries, a cup of coffee and open my laptop. Clicking on my email I purse my lips together, not recognizing one of the senders. I click on it anyway.
From: heartofgold
Ava Grace,
You may not remember me, but I remember you. Thoughts of you keep me up at night, I can’t get you out of my mind.
I want to know more about you; I want to know everything.
But first, tell me this, what is your deepest desire?
Your secret is safe with me.
– HOG
What the actual fuck?
I wrack my brain for HeartofGold. I have no idea who that is... He remembers me? Is it even a he?
Am I straight up getting catfished?
I swallow.
I can’t get you out of my mind.
My hands shake, but why are my hands shaking? Who is this email even from?
My fingers hover over the keyboard, shaking uncontrollably because I don’t want to be messed with. But also, because this email is the most exciting item of correspondence I’ve ever received.
This may be a complete joke, a way for me to make a fool of myself… but maybe it’s not. Maybe there really is someone out there who is fantasizing about me the way I was fantasizing about Samson all night.
Hell, maybe it is Samson.
I reread the message.
I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.
Okay, definitely not Samson, he hightailed it out of my place faster than a cheetah — if there were, like, cheetahs in Denver apartments.
I can’t help myself. I type a response.
To: heartofgold
HOG,
who are you?
– AG
I hit send before I think not to.
I hit refresh as if HOG would have seen, composed and sent an email all in the span of two seconds.
HOG hasn’t.
I take a bite of my yogurt. Suddenly, I don’t want to eat. I just want a response from this person. Is someone messing with me?
I clean out my inbox.
That takes six seconds.
Refresh. Nothing.
I carry my breakfast bowl to the sink, wash it, set it to dry.
Return to my computer. Refresh.
I imagine Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail, wishing I could go back in time to 1997 when an alert would tell me you’ve got mail.
There’s no alert, but there is a new message.
I open it.
From: heartofgold
Dear AG,
Who I am isn’t important.
Your deepest desire? That is.
-HOG
Well, that is not helpful.
My deepest desire? Who does he think he is to ask such a thing?
I have most of what I want.
I like my life. My house, my job, my family—
All these things are good. I’m not looking for a man to entertain me—I know how to entertain myself, with a vibrator or without. I am satisfied with watching movies I’ve seen a dozen times before meeting up with girlfriends to go shopping. My life is good. Great.
But what is my deepest desire?
And why would I tell it to HOG?
My phone rings, it’s my sister.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.
“I’m glad you answered, so... I was thinking...” Sophia starts.
“What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that you should be thinking about who you’re going to bring with you to the wedding. Your date is really important. I mean, whoever it is will be in the photographs, and it’s not that I want everything to be perfect–”
“But you want everything to be perfect.” I laugh, knowing my sister all too well.
“Not perfect, just... I don’t want to look back at this wedding album ten years from now and not even know the man you are standing with.”
“That’s a lot of pressure. You want me to find a man who is worthy of a ten-year memory in the next two months? You do know I’m not dating anyone now, don’t you?”
“That’s just the thing, though, Ava. Maybe you should start thinking about looking for someone you can have a serious relationship with.”
“Where is this all coming from?” I laugh again, this time sharper, more pained. My sister doesn’t notice, and for that I am glad.
“Sophia,” I tell her. “We don’t need to make this about me. The next two months should be all about you. Who I date and bring to your wedding is seriously a low priority. Hell, I’ll bring anybody you want to the wedding. Or I can even go stag.”