Dear John Mayer,

My Dearest John,

I've decided to write an open letter to you this morning for two reasons. I need to gripe a litte and air my grivances toward you, and then end on the effervescent note of my unwaivering affection for you.

First the bad news. As lovely as you are, you date the same type of girls. Glamorous (suddenly I hear Fergie), semi to very famous, perfect looking girls. How's that working out for you big boy? What you need is plain. Simple, not as attractive as Jennifer, Jessica or Minka. Homely almost. You apparently have this thing for Texans or those who play Texans on TV. How 'bout a real Texas girl. One who has actually lived here. One who went to college here and works here. What is it about guys who date the same type of girls over and over, or better yet the same girl over and over again. Hmmm think things will change? Optimistic...or just plain stupid. You need a smart girl. Around 30. Sort of curvy. Makes a killer rum cake perhaps.

Secondly. I do adore you. Not because of your fame, but in spite of it. I'm pretty sure had you not gone to Berklee and gotten so famous or had you been from my general area of Texas, we would have hung out. I have this thing for dark headed boys that can carry a tune. Started in junior high with Justin Orlando...and just went south from there. Your writing is amazing, your talent on guitar transcendant. You will surely go down as our generation's Hendrix or Vaughn. Don't be modest my sweet...you are that good. But, it's your knowledge of yourself that appeals to me the most. You seem as though your heart and head are on the same page, sometimes the page of music, and I envy that. I can't seem to get my ducks in a row sometimes.

So...I'm just saying...The Woodlands is a nice area. You would be close to to IAH and could hop planes to wherever. I would keep working. I don't want your money...well maybe a little to pay off my loan.

Take a chance on a real woman, John. Follow your own advice and

Searching all my days just to find you

I'm not sure who I'm looking for

I'll know itWhen I see you

Until then, I'll hide in my bedroom

Staying up all night just to write

A love song for no one

I'm tired of being alone

So hurry up and get here

So tired of being alone

So hurry up and get here

Love you bunches,

Your future girlfriend,

Debra