John Mayer wrote a letter to his fans apologizing for not being able to talk post-vocal cord surgery. But what’s he really saying?
John is in a letter-writing mood as of late.Â According to Us Weekly, when John dumped Katy Perry a few weeks ago, he did it via e-mail. (!!) And on Wednesday, John wrote a letter to his fans explaining that he is recovering from surgery on his vocal cords and canâ€™t talk or perform for a while.
Now, I could take John’sÂ letter at face value and move on with my day. But whatâ€™s the fun in that? Besides, man-slut that he is, he’s had such an illustrious string of arm candy that it only makes sense that this letter is actually in code and he is desperately searching for the next Temporary Mrs. Mayer to nurse him into health.
Here’s the full text of the letter fromÂ John’s blog:
Pretty straightforward, right? Not so fast. This is a world-renowned playboy we’re dealing with. He’s the king of slick. Letâ€™s read this letter again, this time to find out what John is really getting at.
THE (LOVE)Â TRAIN IS NOW MOVING (..TOOT TOOOOT!!!)
Hi all (of my potential new girlfriends),
Well, here I am. (Right here. I’m right here, ladies! Come and get it!) Silent for the next few months (in bed), no singing (in bed) for probably six, but all signs point to this being the last step in getting to perform again (in bed). (I am talking about sex here if you haven’t picked up on my subtleties. I wear old-timey prospector hats. I’m a subtle guy.) Â Back to notebooks and iPad to communicate for the time being. (I write in a notebook, aren’t I such an artist? I will make love to you and then journal about it like a teenager.) Zen living at its finestâ€¦ (Oops, did I mention the Z-word? I’m so spiritual.) so if you see me out and about (in your bed, living room, hanging around outside your window) and I donâ€™t answer you when you say hello, Iâ€™m not ignoring you. (I’m just being a good stalker, and sometimes stalkers can’t respond back right away. Also these hedges are sticking into my legs. Can we trimÂ those?) Promise. (Ahh, hah-hah-hah! That always cracks me up. My promises aren’t worth the cyberpaper they’re printed on, am I right Katy? High five!! No? Okay.)
Iâ€™ll try and post more on here (when I’m not scrolling through my phone for other chicks’ numbers… What the — Do I not have Carly Rae Jepson’s number?! How is that possible? She wrote that whole song asking me to call her, and now I can’t find her number?), but Iâ€™ve gotten really good at keeping my thoughts to myself (not my hands though. Those still roam free.) and I donâ€™t exactly see anybody starving for my take on things. (But they are starving for my body on theirs. Hey-oh!) But it might be fun to offer some kind of window (like the one in your bedroom I’m outside of right now) into this very odd and slightly beautiful time. (And by “odd and beautiful time” I mean I could be into some fugly girls too just to get me through this rough patch. DM me some pics. You never know. We’ll go from there.)
I hope this finds you each and all very well (and by that I mean STD-free. Gotta keep little John in tiptop shape, nahmean?)â€¦ And I know Iâ€™m not the only person hoping that six months from now theyâ€™ll have a chance to do what they love so much (have sex), so good luck with your thing too (not really, I just thought it sounded cool if I talked about someone other than me for a second.)
That clears things up, now, doesn’t it?