The worst thing happened to me yesterday. I was reading the latest issue of US Weekly, silently rooting for Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson to stay together, when I saw a photo of the sexy young actress Jessica Alba standing beside her new boyfriend.

Lucky bastard, I thought as I scanned the text to find his name. Cash Warren, described by US as a 25-year-old movie producer. Impressive. I didn't know you could be a movie producer at 25. Then I did a double-take. I knew somebody at my college named Cash, a strapping, hunky dude from California who strongly resembled the guy in the photo. No way. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible . . .

It wasn't fair.

It was him, alright. My girlfriend went to the same college I did and confirmed his identity. "He was pretty hot," she said, "I remember him. He licked my face once at a party."

Excuse me?

She shrugged and said dismissively, "Looks like he fucked his way to the top."

Now, hold on there. Let's not put the cart before the horse. It doesn't say anything in this article about him fucking her. They're just dating, that's all. No one I knew could be lucky enough to date AND have sex with Jessica Alba, arguably the sexiest girl in the world.

For those of you cave-dwellers who don't know who Jessica Alba is, you may recognize her as the nearly nude girl on the cover of GQ this month or as the hottest girl in the new movie Sin City (no small feat, as the movie is chock-full of hot girls wearing little more than leather panties and bras). Assuming you do know who she is, it's likely you can't recall a movie she's been in before Sin City, or know what her voice sounds like. That's ok. Jessica Alba is not truly an actress — she's a star. She's the type of Hollywood personality who can't act and is famous only for her looks, a deadly combination of childlike innocence and screaming sensuality, a seductive nymph with big glowing eyes, swollen Angelina Jolie-like lips, and mocha-colored skin covering a body with more curves than a freeway entrance ramp.

Jessica Alba was not always a Hollywood starlet. When she was younger, she was the furthest thing from it: a born-again Christian. Then one fine day, her butt, breasts and lips pumped up alarmingly and suddenly this innocent Christian found she had transformed into a sex kitten. Her body became the very embodiment of temptation, a teenage succubus arousing the lust and concern of her pastor and Bible-banging friends. Jessica Alba decided she's had enough of her born-again life and went to the dark side: Hollywood. Her first role? Playing a teenager who contracts oral gonorrhea from blowing her 30-year-old boyfriend in the TV series Chicago Hope.

From such shameful seeds a star is born. The television series Dark Angel was her first substantial gig, in which she played a genetically enhanced girl who kicked a bunch of ass while wearing figure-flattering outfits. My mom loves Dark Angel. She and three of her friends have a Tuesday night get-together where they watch DVDs of their favorite television series. Dark Angel was first. Now they're in the middle of the third season of Alias. I sense a pattern here, albeit with an important distinction: Dark Angel sucks and Alias is awesome.

Next on her resume was 2003's hip-hop dance flick Honey, a movie that sent waves of terror rolling through my body the moment I saw the poster because I knew with dreadful certainty my girlfriend would make me see it. (The same thing happened with Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights.) It's not that I don't appreciate (lust after) Jessica Alba, it's just that I don't think she's much of an actress. I never managed to sit through an entire episode of Dark Angel and I doubted things would be easier on the silver screen.

That being said, the moment I saw her name on the poster for Sin City, I got all quivery with excitement. In a movie loaded with star power (Bruce Willis, Rosario Dawson, Brittany Murphy, Mickey Rourke, Benicio del Toro, and more), Alba's name was the one that mattered most. During previews for Sin City, everybody in the theater perked up noticeably when the clip showed of her dancing on the table in a cowboy hat, a leather whip, and little else. Sure, Rosario Dawson is sexy and Brittany Murphy has a nice butt, but they don't have anything on Jessica Alba.

I think she had about five lines during the entire movie, all of which were delivered as flat as a pancake. Poor Jessica — a terrible actress trapped in a terrific body. Thank goodness in Hollywood the latter trait carries far more weight than the former. The roles keep coming for Alba, with three movies out this year alone: the afore-mentioned Sin City; an underwater thriller called Into the Blue, where she costars with another hot young actor of similar monosyllabic talent, Paul Walker; and the comic book movie, The Fantastic Four, in which she plays Sue Storm, a woman who sporadically turns invisible.

I think it was on the set of The Fantastic Four that she met my former college buddy and her current boyfriend, Cash. It is difficult for me to put into words the hair-tearing frustration this situation provokes in me. What I wouldn't give to meet her, to hold her, to let her ride on the back of my scooter as we cruised Melrose.

The thing is, I know now that it could have been possible. If after college I had gone to Hollywood and worked in the movies instead of going to New York and working in online advertising, I could be dating Jessica Alba right now. It's almost as if Cash stole her from me. Why couldn't he have stuck with my girlfriend, whose face he lovingly licked, instead of taking Jessica Alba?

I don't know the answer to that question. But I do know I hope my girlfriend doesn't read this article, or I'll be the one getting the licking — if you know what I mean.