So. Amber. Let's get serious here. This needs to happen.
You.
Me.
Dating.
And don't try pulling that "Who in the hell is this raving lunatic" thing. Like I haven't heard that one before... I don't fall for that little ruse. You know exactly who I am. I'm sure Blake and Melanie told you all about me.
Speaking of which, this is about you and me and the future, and not them and the past. I'm not going to get into details, but we both know how badly that whole deal went down. I dated Hawt Chick™ so Blake pulled the classic move of revenge marrying pretty boy in my town and Melanie went all self-destructive and ended up on Jersey Shore. And Hawt Chick™? I'll just be civil and say "it wasn't meant to be", so long as it's understood that "it wasn't meant to be" means...
You know what? No. I'm not going to speak ill of her because I'm a gentleman and not bitter at all (and I don't want her setting fire to any more of my things). Okay. Fine. A trifle bitter.
No. This is about you and me and why we're going to be together forever, just as the Fates decreed at the Dawn of Time.
Oh, I know you're going to pull that, "I am not into you. Seriously. I dated a woman for years and now I'm with, you know, Johnny Depp. Well, maybe. I'm not saying I am and I'm not saying I'm not. But I'm pretty much saying I am."
Look. I'm a master of psychology, so it's fairly obvious to me that the woman who pulls the "bisexual" card to entice Johnny Depp is going to pull the "I'm dating Johnny Depp" card to get my attention. I mean, that's practically chumming the water. Like I don't know this. And like you don't know I know this. And like I don't know you know I know this. Yeah. See that? Psychological Master.
You're not fooling anybody.
It all comes down to the beard.
"Wait. What?" you might say, as if I haven't heard that one from family, friends, shrinks, police, that judge, and a few really unprofessional dominatrices.
Fact: women don't want girlie men. And what's the number one way to distinguish between men and women? Facial hair. Duh. I mean, I know a guy who has made a mistake or two in Phuket and he basically told me that the only way you can tell if a person is a woman isn't to assume she is based on looks. You have to assume everyone with a beard is a man and everyone without a beard might also be a man.
But not all beards are created equal and thus not all men are either. Let's talk about Johnny's beard for a second.
Clear lenses and a curling wisp of hair? For Shame, Sir! For Shame!
Clearly that's not a goatee. Those are passé. No, that's a Van Dyke or "French" beard. And it's lame as hell. I'm not saying it's Orlando Bloom lame. But it's lame².
LAME ³
So, that's also my beard style. Except, I actually have French blood (the good kind, before they lost all those wars). And don't act like you don't know that.
This beard has 4 phases and the later the phase, the more manly the man.
This beard has 4 phases and the later the phase, the more manly the man.
Phase 1- Gay French Waiter (Orlando Bloom)
Phase 2- Muskateer
Phase 3- Conquistador
Phase 4- Confederate General
Where is your beloved Johnny? Well, it depends on what we're calling Mr. Bloom there. If he's a 1, then Johnny is a 1.5. I'd say Mr. Bloom is a .5 and Johnny is a Gay French Waiter.
Me?
I'm pretty clearly hovering at a 3.5. Okay, probably no less than a 3.86. And that's how it should be because if I let myself get to Confederate General, I'm pretty much obligated to switch my accent and patois to Foghorn Leghorn, which is freaking boss! but not really sexy. And, let's be honest, you and me is gonna be all about the sexy. I'm a hirsute MAN after all.
I apologize to any bystanders this picture may impregnate.
I'm pretty clearly hovering at a 3.5. Okay, probably no less than a 3.86. And that's how it should be because if I let myself get to Confederate General, I'm pretty much obligated to switch my accent and patois to Foghorn Leghorn, which is freaking boss! but not really sexy. And, let's be honest, you and me is gonna be all about the sexy. I'm a hirsute MAN after all.
Now, some things have changed, as I mentioned, since I wrote that letter to Blake and Melanie. I came back from Afghanistan. I decompressed. I bought a sports sedan. I bought a sailboat. I took La Arsoniste to Mexico. I replaced most (MOST) of the stuff that Miss Pyro set ablaze. I ran out of money.
Yeah, yeah. Hindsight is 20/20, my dear.
But, yeah, now I'm actually having to practice law and I'm going to let you in on a little secret: it's every bit as mind-numbingly awful as I have always said it was. Pop's an English Professor and Mom's an artist. Do you really think I'm supposed to be in an office?
No. Of course not. There are certain things we're made to do.
You're made to be looked at. I'm made to make up whatever it is that my heart desires. You're stupefyingly good at what you do and I'm off-the-charts amazing, but, sadly, my skills are a bit more subtle and so have, so far, gone mostly unnoticed by the masses. Hey, no one said life was fair.
Anyway, yeah. I've tried this working thing. I did it overseas. I've been doing it here. I've given it a good go. And it's not me. Nope. Not one bit.
That's a big reason for why we need to date.
You're going to be getting me, which is reward enough, of course, but you'll also be furthering culture and art as I create whatever the hell it is I create out by your pool. So this should happen. For humanity. And my tan lines. Which are, frankly, appalling.
And, because, as I say, my skills are more subtle than your slaps-you-so-hard-it's-like-a-bat-to-the-face beauty, you don't need to ever worry about my taking the attention away from you and your career. Because, let's face it. You're not the one who should be the second banana. What you need is someone happy to be in the background.
You dated a woman. You don't want to be just some girlie- man's arm candy. And that's all you're ever going to be to Johnny. No. I'm more than willing to let you have the spotlight. And the fact that you'll be off all around the world shooting films and photo shoots? I'm totally cool with that. I love to travel. Or stay home while you pay the bills.
You dated a woman. You don't want to be just some girlie- man's arm candy. And that's all you're ever going to be to Johnny. No. I'm more than willing to let you have the spotlight. And the fact that you'll be off all around the world shooting films and photo shoots? I'm totally cool with that. I love to travel. Or stay home while you pay the bills.
I'm easy-peasy.
But, hey, I don't want to come off desperate or soul sucking here. I mean, look at me. I got options. I do. Well, sorta. And that ties into your only real protestation.
"I have a boyfriend. I'm not going to cheat on him. I'm not a bad person," you say.
Trust me, I know. It's a conundrum. Yeah, I know you're dating someone right now, but that's precisely it. You've been quality-checked. Because you're dating someone, you prove that you are, in fact, dateable. Quality girls always have boyfriends. They just do.
And hot, single girls are, by definition, intolerably insane. Why the hell else would they be single? I would feel bad about saying something like that if I hadn't tested the hypothesis repeatedly. I have the skin grafts to prove it (you think Hawt Chick™ waited for me to take the clothes off before she set them alight?).
No, I pretty much can only date girlfriends.
And therein lays the problem: I can't steal a guy's girlfriend. Because I'm a gentleman. I'm not a jerk. There is a code of honor after all.
Also, this is fairly obvious, but any girl who'd ditch her guy for me, I clearly can't date because she'd be a crappy, disloyal person and would probably do the same thing to me. Don't even get me started about the women who date someone just because they prefer the security of being in a relationship to being on their own and jump ship the second a better option comes along. "Eh, you'll do" is not something that should be in a prospective partner's decision tree. But I digress.
Slightly less obviously, but even more important, is that some other guy's girlfriend has shown bad judgment in the first place by dating someone else and not me . You cannot be surprised I think that highly of myself. Yes, I bang my drum: I'm awesome.
So I can only date girlfriends, but I can't because, you know, they have boyfriends, which is precisely why you and I need to happen.
Amber, you're perfect. You're the deus ex machina that will allow me to escape this otherwise unsolvable moral quagmire.
I'll tell you why. Fine. Date(ish) Johnny Depp. I'm patient. One of you will get tired of the charade. You'll break up, thus being single and undateable, but then, no doubt, you'll get back with a woman again.
At which point, with conscience clear and honor unstained (as there is no boyfriend but you're still a girlfriend), I can swoop in and "save you"/steal you so we can live happily ever after.
Until then, my (currently) forbidden fruit...
With Much Affection,
Ajax
P.S. Since I clearly don't date much, I'm gonna need you to lead pretty much all of our interactions. I'm a feminist. I'm empowering you.
P.P.S. Also, of course, I'm not joking about this; you'll kinda have to pay my way, which is really the only way it can be, because otherwise all of this would be misogynistic and not empowering to you, which it so clearly is. Thanks. TTYL, Sugar Buns.
"I have a boyfriend. I'm not going to cheat on him. I'm not a bad person," you say.
Trust me, I know. It's a conundrum. Yeah, I know you're dating someone right now, but that's precisely it. You've been quality-checked. Because you're dating someone, you prove that you are, in fact, dateable. Quality girls always have boyfriends. They just do.
And hot, single girls are, by definition, intolerably insane. Why the hell else would they be single? I would feel bad about saying something like that if I hadn't tested the hypothesis repeatedly. I have the skin grafts to prove it (you think Hawt Chick™ waited for me to take the clothes off before she set them alight?).
No, I pretty much can only date girlfriends.
And therein lays the problem: I can't steal a guy's girlfriend. Because I'm a gentleman. I'm not a jerk. There is a code of honor after all.
Also, this is fairly obvious, but any girl who'd ditch her guy for me, I clearly can't date because she'd be a crappy, disloyal person and would probably do the same thing to me. Don't even get me started about the women who date someone just because they prefer the security of being in a relationship to being on their own and jump ship the second a better option comes along. "Eh, you'll do" is not something that should be in a prospective partner's decision tree. But I digress.
Slightly less obviously, but even more important, is that some other guy's girlfriend has shown bad judgment in the first place by dating someone else and not me . You cannot be surprised I think that highly of myself. Yes, I bang my drum: I'm awesome.
So I can only date girlfriends, but I can't because, you know, they have boyfriends, which is precisely why you and I need to happen.
Amber, you're perfect. You're the deus ex machina that will allow me to escape this otherwise unsolvable moral quagmire.
I mean "morass", not this ass.
I'll tell you why. Fine. Date(ish) Johnny Depp. I'm patient. One of you will get tired of the charade. You'll break up, thus being single and undateable, but then, no doubt, you'll get back with a woman again.
At which point, with conscience clear and honor unstained (as there is no boyfriend but you're still a girlfriend), I can swoop in and "save you"/steal you so we can live happily ever after.
Until then, my (currently) forbidden fruit...
With Much Affection,
Ajax
P.S. Since I clearly don't date much, I'm gonna need you to lead pretty much all of our interactions. I'm a feminist. I'm empowering you.
P.P.S. Also, of course, I'm not joking about this; you'll kinda have to pay my way, which is really the only way it can be, because otherwise all of this would be misogynistic and not empowering to you, which it so clearly is. Thanks. TTYL, Sugar Buns.
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