Dear Hugh,

Stop being awesome. If you insist on being awesome, be unmarried. It’s a very unsavoury combination: the fantasy of being Mrs. Jackman incessantly unrealised as you continue being tall, dark, handsome and generally mesmerising. So cool, so centred. Tell us mortals your secret.

Where do you get the motivation – as your co-star in one of the many X-Men movies (I forget which, I only remember you half-clothed in most of them) James McAvoy (no wilting daffodil in the attractiveness department either) has said, “to rise at 5 am to hit the gym was bad enough for us, but to get there and discover Hugh was already pumping iron an hour before was soul crushing”. Who ARE you if not some Australian Zeus with laugh lines to get lost in and a smile needing the smilee to hold on to their sunglasses? You do it quite freely as well. STOP in the name of all that is gorgeous! It’s very bad for my health – the tug of various parts of my body unable to actually snap back because you insist on defying being human.

I once saw a magazine photo of you riding the New York subway with your kids. A festering New York subway train whose plastic seats are smeared with all manner of lowly sheddings. That an earth-god deems to take some of the shittier modes of transport in the Big A is heartwrenching enough, that he teaches his kids to live like the rest of the grain, that’s plain evil. Again, let them eat cake. Let them travel by golden buses with your face (and pectorals) plastered all over the sides. Let them move around in Rolls Royce Phantoms with your torso as the emblem out on the hood.

Either that or date me so eventually I can be their step mother and then teach them a thing or two about entitlement. See, I’d be doing you and them a favour.

That brings us to Deborra. Your wife of some absurd plus years. The woman who seems to have captured your soul in a gilded love cage where you sit, quiet, calm and at complete peace with her ownership. True? You love slave you. You even said that on some radio interview once, you’re her love slave. Sigh.

The point of this enduring infatuation for you is that I imagine the following when I think of you (besides all manner of nudity):

That you believe in hard work and being open to life’s gifts.
That you’re over societal limitations on love and success and various other restrictive parameters.
That you’re 6 foot 2 and have built yourself to a (very) pleasurable body weight.
That your inner strength matches your outer strength and that I can imagine in moments of any conflict or weakness, falling into you would be met with support, kindness and generosity.

Am I projecting much? Prove yourself then! Come knocking at my door, I’m free most evenings save Mondays when I hit the gym for Zumba. But you can interrupt us, the instructor will understand.

Several uncomfortably lingering kisses,
Peri
ps: You may bring your co-worker and friend Liev (as in Schreiber) with you. I’m willing to share.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hello! I’m Peri Desai

I’m Peri, welcome to my space. In it you will find stuff that moves me, maddens me, captures my attention, makes me question its truth. You will read what makes me curious, annoyed, energized, joyful, vulnerable.