Out on a sunny day on the South Beach boardwalk, while dodging packs of speeding, overzealous cyclists, my friend Leah and I delved into the three most-often discussed Miami conversation topics: 1) weather, 2) plastic surgery, and 3) the goal of developing forward-looking solutions to address the most pressing global challenges… just kidding on that last one.  Really, after the first two topics, we just talk about other people.  Or other people’s plastic surgery.

Regarding other people, Leah brought up our mutual friend, Janice.

“You know something?” said Leah. “That Janice has a heart of gold.”

“I agree! Janice has a heart of gold. A heart of GOLD.” 

After our walk, the heart of gold comment stuck with me.  What a beautiful thing to be described that way.  Lucky Janice, to have such a reputation.  And though I was ecstatic for her, I found myself wondering: Would anyone describe ME as having a heart of gold?  And by that, I mean someone other than me.

I decided to do some field research. I went first to Leah. 

“You know how you described Janice as having a heart of gold? Well, I was wondering: Is that how you would also describe me?”

“You?” Leah’s eyes appeared to grow bigger than I had ever seen them.  Was it incredulity? Or did she have a blepharoplasty that went unmentioned during one of our plastic surgery talks?

“Yes, Leah, me. Would you describe me as having a heart of gold?”

Looking at me intently with her big (new?) eyes, “I would describe you differently,” said Leah.

Brightening, and with a dash of smug anticipation, I asked, “Oh? How?”

“I would describe you as tall.”

“Tall?”

“Yes, I would describe you as tall.” It was disappointing that Leah didn’t see my heart of gold as she had seen Janice’s. Worse, despite my own certainty in boasting a heart of gold, I found myself wishing Leah would be run over by one of the speeding boardwalk cyclists.  And that’s a hard feeling to have about a friend.  Even one who is an idiot.

I’ll spare you the rest of my field research but in summary, I asked ten friends if they would describe me as having a heart of gold and I got nine “No ways” and one friend who couldn’t stop laughing.  A shame really, because that friend really looked forward to the pickleball games that I have now completely cut her out of.  Who’s laughing now, Erica?

I began to reflect as to why my heart of gold status wasn’t being seen by others.  I took a hard look at my life, my 4.0 Uber score, and decided I needed to do more to show the world all the love in my heart.

To that end, I helped a woman who didn’t realize she was standing directly in front of the elevator cab’s buttons by shrieking, “EXCUSE ME!” in her ear to help her get out of the way and escape the vitriol of other understandably annoyed elevator occupants. Had there been any.

Similarly, I saved a man who had misjudged his ability to get across the street before the traffic light turned green by leaning on my horn as hard as I could, to warn him of my impending pedal to the metal.  He turned around immediately, astonished and alive, if not rattled to the core, perhaps because of his advanced age. And maybe because of his wheelchair.   Yet, he successfully wheeled himself right back to safety. Happy to help, sir!  It’s me old heart of gold you can thank!

You see, I believe I possess a heart like Oprah’s, who, after making her fortune, gave a million dollars to her best friend, Gayle.  I would 100% do exactly the same thing for my best friend, Julie.  Oprah couldn’t love Gayle half as much as I love Julie, and nothing would make me happier than sharing my wealth with Julie, if only Julie was not an absolute moron when it comes to money and financial decisions. I mean, I’m scared to think what would have become of Julie without me to set her straight, and really, if there’s any money to be changed hands, maybe it’s Julie who should pay ME.  Too bad I couldn’t help her out with the decision to marry her loser of a husband, but still, Julie, you are forever my Gayle. Just without the money. Or the trips.  Or the guest house in Montecito.

But back to my heart of gold status, have I mentioned how much I love nature and babies and animals?  Perhaps I didn’t - because I don’t – but that alone shouldn’t disqualify me, should it?  It just feels as if I’m fighting back the tide trying to convince the world of the solid gold content of my heart. Is it my fault that I am hard-wired to be less like homespun, heart-of-gold Jennifer Garner; and more like don’t-make-me-take my-earrings off Jennifer Lopez?  But let me ask you: which of those gals would you rather spend a night out at the clubs with?  Just saying. 

Alas.  This heart of gold thing may not be my thing.  But if you’re looking for someone who is loyal, really fun and truly kind, then I suggest you call Erica.  She has a lot of time on her hands now that she’s kicked out of pickleball.