Anna

Anna Stern was that cute, sassy girl from The O.C. who — god knows why — had a thing for Seth Cohen. Remember? But like all minor characters from the hit teen drama, she suffered a hasty retreat when the writers just didn’t know what else to do with her story.

I just saw her. At the gym, I mean.

No, let me rephrase that.

I saw a much cuter version of Anna Stern with — as the young lads say — a killer bod.

And get this. Her name’s Annie. And she’s from California.

Which totally rocks my socks.

So it’s an hour before midnight. The gym’s totally deserted. All is quiet. Except for the two of us.

And that random, awkward silence every time the iTunes playlist goes between tracks.

I finish my workout, and get ready to ask her for her number.

But then I freeze.

Several years ago…

A wise gym buff once confided in me, “Phil, I never — never ask girls from the gym out on dates.”

“Why not?”, my young, naive self inquired.

“The gym is my sanctuary. Do you know how incredibly awkward things will be if she says “No”? And what if we part on not-so-amicable terms? I like my sanctuary the way it is. I don’t want to ruin that. Do you?”

No I didn’t. And I don’t.

But dude — it was Anna Stern. Except way, way hotter.

It took everything I had to walk away. Everything.

So in this moment of indecisive need, in this crucial moment of weakness, I’m turning to you, dear readers.

I’m asking you — no, begging you — to write in.

Reach out. Pick up a pen, a phone, a keyboard, whatever. Tell me what to do.