Get a Castle
First things first. In fact, now that you're with Alba, owning a castle is really the last thing you need to do before you die. Other than the castle's inherent properties of manliness, there are a few good and practical reasons for owning one. For one, you'll legitimize yourself. You can give yourself a title, too. Sure, you might not seem like you're worth holding onto now, but once you've got a castle and you've begun to go by the name Lord Shattershire -- or, if you have a German castle, Chancellor Wehrscheisse -- you're home free. Also, when other potential suitors come to attempt to take her away from you, you can just raise your drawbridge and let them conversate with your shark-filled moat. If that somehow fails, you can hunker down in your keep and have Alba's attendant maidens dump boiling oil from the turret. Nothing harshes a crush on Jessica Alba like a long series of skin grafts. Of course, if that also fails, you may want to consider your secret escape tunnel; as no man could survive such an assault, it is now likely that you're being hunted by the Predator.
Become Her Manager
Jessica Alba has been in some good stuff (Sin City), some okay stuff (Fantastic 4) and some Honey stuff (Honey). It's an average A-List celebrity career. Yawn. I think it's time, as her boyfriend, you take control.
First off, ax any and all romantic comedies from her schedule. Good Luck Chuck and the taint that Dane Cook has left behind will be her last blip on the romcom radar. If she's gonna do comedies, push for her to star in raunchy hard R-rated fare where she bares her breasts for no reason, like her predecessor Phoebe Cates used to do.
Then, nix all Fantastic 4 sequels. They can get Jessica Biel to star in that shit... her career is further into the crapper than yesterday's dookie. Get her to star in other comic franchises that are more worthy, like Y: The Last Man, Ex Machina and Flesh Gordan. Especially Flesh Gordan.
Finally, schedule her down for some full frontal nudity. I'm sure Vincent Gallo's got some script that calls for twat bearing somewhere on his computer. Trust us... she'll be thanking your ass.
Shatter Her Confidence
There are a lot of different ways to go about this, but it's going to probably going to be the keystone of keeping her in the belief that the two of you make sense together. I mean, no offense, guy, but she's Jessica Fucking Alba. Who are you? Oh, you're Shattershire? Well, yes, that is convincing... but I digress. The whole point of this exercise is to bring the two of you closer together -- in terms of her perceptions, of course, not in terms of emotional connectivity -- so one good plan is to pay the people around you to compliment you and ignore her. Don't have them ignore her completely, as you do not want her to believe that she is in fact a ghost, and you are a medium; but make sure they restrict their interactions with her to the bare minimum. "Hello," "Good-bye," and, "Your husband is quite a catch, you should hold on to that one," should be the only things they tell her. When they talk to you, on the other hand, their praise can't be effusive enough. "My, your beard looks fantastic," they should say. "I can't believe it's the beard of only one man." Or, "I was once a traveling photographer with the World's Strongest Man tour, and let me tell you, I believe that you might be the World's Strongest Man." If you feel like pushing it, and because you're a man we know you will, have them go with something like, "I really think you're better suited for most of your wife's roles. Her acting is kind of... you know." And you do know. But it's OK, because she's Jessica Fucking Alba.
Make Her Pay
So she's Jessica Alba. She's a famous actress. She's starred in countless films, TV shows, T Shirts, fantasies... what does all this translate into? HARD CASH. That being the case, your measly day wages shouldn't go to waste on paying for (or even paying half of) your dinner bill. The girl is rich. It's time to step up like a man and convince her to start paying the bill.
How are you gonna go about this? First way would be to drop subtle hints. Leave some feminist books by her bedside table (I suggest you print out this article). Hopefully she'll realize that you paying the bill is merely your psychic extension of your penile domination over her life... or something.
If she's too smart (or, more likely, too stupid) to buy your whole feminist routine, you're going to have to get creative. Get a game plan of how to weasel out every time. My suggestion is to claim you have some sort of horrible bowel disorder that kicks in right after dessert. Then you'll justifiably be in the bathroom whenever the check comes. You could also claim to only have (fake) credit cards that they don't take, like a Master Visa or an American Diner's Club card. Whatever you do, do it for a few months and, after a while, her paying for you will become second nature. First nature should be her giving you a glorious HJ under the table during the soup course... but that's another article for another Jessica Alba week.
Start a Sex Tape Rumor... But Never Release One
You've got the primest of prime rib in your fridge...how are you gonna step up like a man and keep the wolves away so you can fuck your prime rib in peace? Easy...give those S.O.B.s the worst case of collective blue balls since Neve Campbell didn't show her goods in 'Wild Things.'
How does one go about achieving such a massive undertaking? Well you're going out with the ultimate Hollywood Tease. So just extract clothes, add a camera...and spin! What you need to do is start subtlely dropping hints to all the gossip bloggers and columnists that you and the PYT Ms. Alba have filmed some of your bedroom romps. Truthfully, don't film anything because if that would leak, she'll 'Cash Warren' your ass faster than you could say 'Reality Show.' But spreading the rumor that a sex tape exists can only help you. It'll keep every dude with a pulse salivating in anticipation. As the months without a sex tape pass, continue dropping little tidbits about how amazing and raunchy the tape is. For good measure, spread the rumor that your wang is bigger than Tommy Lee's.
Keep this up for a good six months, with the last few days of the rumor being intense and widespread. The collective boners of the men of America will be swelling bigger than my grampa's foot stump during a snow storm... and then, after all that... do nothing. Drop the rumor, walk away and smirk as hot dogs everywhere writhe in their own pain, gripping their groins in group agony.
Have a Shitload of Kids
Now that your fake sex tape rumor has run its course, you're ready to simultaneously crush the hopes and dreams of men everywhere and inject a healthy helping of Alba into the next generation's gene pool. Do the world a favor and start churning out those kids. By the time you're done, you should have two full rugby teams scrumming it up in front of your castle, and that should be just the boys. They take after you. The girls are your gift to the world. What better way to Man Up your relationship than to use it to make yourself a runaway first-ballot inductee to the Man Hall of Fame? Not only will you get props for your incredible virility, and not only will your colleagues cheer the way you obviously must be constantly getting at The Alba, but, when your daughters reach adulthood, you will become a hero unparalleled since the days of Achilles and Odysseus. Your face will be carved into mountains. Your name will be shouted from the remaining mountains. And, when you die, the parade will be endless, the beer will flow of its own accord, and your giant gravestone will read, in letters twenty feet tall, "Here lies the King of all the Mother Fuckers."