And now, an open letter to John Mayer

This morning, I woke from a lucious dream where I had been dating John Mayer. He was very sweet and funny and wonderful. Which made waking up more miserable than normal. Then as I brushed my teeth and began the morning ritual of making myself presentable to the world, I formulated a letter to JM in my head. I snorted in laughter several times. Then I thought, I should post it on my blog! Because, really, what the hell else am I going to blog about? This may even be the first in a series of open letters to my dream boyfriend. Prepare thyselves.

Dear John Mayer,

You don't know me, but we had a totally awesome relationship in my dream last night. We held hands and shared an ice cream cone, which equals true love. Now, I know you don't really know me, but that hasn't stopped me from envisioning our first date.

We would meet in some neutral area, or possibly some place predetermined by your staff members to avoid cameras and publicity. You would be hot, of course. I would be ... uh ... well, I'd show up! We would shake hands, and my face would be bright red and I'd look down a lot because I'd be painfully shy. I would most likely stammer as I tried desperately to think of something witty to say. Then I would apply chapstick 13 times as it's a nervous habit.

Awesome, right? Let's continue to our conversation. I know you're wondering what we could possibly have to say to each other. Let's just assume that I've already told you how much I love your music and how it's the only music I turn to when I need to feel understood. I will bite my lip to keep from mentioning the green swimsuit debacle. (I still haven't determined whether it's hot or not. Funny, yes. Hot? I better go look at it some more.)

We may continue talking about music for a while as we're getting to know each other. I would suggest that you listen to some of my current faves, like Andrew Bird and Margot and the Nuclear So & So's. Then we might chat about blogging, since we have that in common. I'd tell you how I wrote on my blog about my friend Krista and I at your Valentine's Day concert in '07. I would refrain from mentioning that I was surly because Jessica Simpson had also been in attendance.

As we get more comfortable with each other, you'd tease me about all the times I've written about you on my blog. (Seriously, I'm a little embarrassed. Just type in "John Mayer" in the search blog box at the top of the screen.) I'd playfully slap your arm, then my face would turn bright red again, and an internal discussion would frantically begin in my head. "Oh, my God, I just touched John Mayer! Don't smirk, don't smirk! But he's so warm and boy-y. Must touch again. DON'T DO IT!" And on it would go. It's tough being a girl.

I would change the subject and ask if you've ever played SingStar on Playstation 2. If you hadn't, I would then proceed to tell you how awesome it is. If you had, I'd compare which songs were fun, which sucked, and which made everyone crack up with laughter.

We may talk about more serious things. I'd nod a lot at things you say and repeat "Exactly!" I may even mutter buzz words such as "economy" and "health care" to make you think I totally knew world events. Not because I want to deceive you, but because I don't want you to walk away from the experience thinking I was a complete idiot.

And oh, how we would make each other laugh. Be careful, John Mayer, not to snort with laughter as you drink something. I've ruined many a person's shirt due to my ill-timed hilarity.

I don't know where we would go from there, but I think that's a lovely start to a first meeting, don't you? Perhaps you can fill me in (that's what she said!) on how the rest of the evening would go.

Until the next dream-inspired letter,
love,
April