My Future Husband

Tonight, I went over to Azee's for dinner. Polenta with cheese, spinach and tomatoes, to be specific. Also on the menu? Back-to-back episodes of Sex and the City.

We started with the second season. When we were introduced to Miranda's cute, nice beaux who couldn't get her off, I loudly exclaimed, "Oh my God! I love that guy!" That guy, incidentally, was Mark Feuerstein. Or as I like to call him, my future husband. Azee looked at him and said, "He looks like every guy you've ever dated. Sometimes he has hair and sometimes he doesn't, but you always date that guy." I don't know about every guy, but he certainly bears more than your passing resemblance to Red Sox.

The thing about Mark Feuerstein is that you probably don't know him by name. That fact earned him a spot in Fametracker's Hey, it's That Guy! series. His specialty, according to Fametracker, is "short romantics." You may know him as that cute, nice vet from Caroline in the City. Or as that cute, nice judge on Ally McBeal. Or, recently, as that cute, nice lawyer from In Her Shoes. Basically, when the part calls for a cute, nice something-or-other, Mark Feuerstein is your guy. But back off, because he's my guy.

Now, the next part is going to make you think I'm a little crazy, if you don't already. Mark Feuerstein has been a permanent fixture in my dreams. For years. And over the years, we've gotten to know each other quite a bit. Each new dream picks up where the last left off. We're currently somewhere between kissing and sleeping together. We haven't seen each other in awhile, though, so I think we might have fallen back a few steps.

So after analyzing these dreams of mine, I came to the obvious conclusion that Mark Feuerstein and I are destined to be together. I mean, duh. I think that if we were to meet in real life, he'd say, "Oh my God! You're that adorable redhead from my dreams! I didn't think you really existed!" And then the 70s porn music would start and we'd get naked, and I wouldn't have to fake it like Miranda did when he played that cute, nice ophthalmologist on Sex and the City.

When I first moved to the city, I was taking a cab home from somewhere one night, most likely some sort of open bar affair paid for by silly Internet company #1. I was stopped at a red light, and when I looked up, he was walking in front of the car. Our eyes met. I thought, "Oh my God! That's the guy from my dreams, my future husband. What the hell is his name?" I briefly considered jumping out of the cab and running after him, which surely would have resulted in either a marriage proposal or a restraining order. I was willing to risk it in that moment.

Last summer, Mark Feuerstein married some skank named Dana Klein. Kidding, I'm sure she's a very lovely girl. But if she isn't, now, thanks to the power of the Internet, I'm a mere Google away. Hey Mark! Remember me? That redhead from the dreams (I'm guessing)? Call me!