On Wednesday, I should have guessed something was amiss when my wife asked me not to use the Internet all day for my own safety because she warned the Internet might be haunted.
When I finally did try and use the Internet, I found the router had been doused in water.
The entire day she was especially nice to me and laughed at all my jokes, even jokes I told years and years ago that she claims she had finally understood. She even asked me how the Green Bay Packers were doing and what Aaron Rodgers chances were of winning the MVP.
On Thursday morning the reasons for her strange behavior became clear when a friend texted me with the news: Zooey and her husband are separating. I immediately put down my tenth slice of breakfast pizza, put on pants, and started doing sit-ups–it was game time!
Zooey, allow me to offer my condolences during this difficult time. If you need anyone to talk to about your troubles, I’d be happy to listen to your problems if you need a shoulder to cry on while the owner of that shoulder smells your hair.
Now that you’ve had the appropriate two days to move on, I’d like to remind you I wrote you a love letter back in August, long before I knew you’d be available again. I hope the love letter I wrote you back in August wasn’t responsible for the break-up. I’m sure you didn’t even see it, although I did forward the link directly to your Twitter account. It’s even possible your husband was the reason behind the split after seeing my love letter, learning about my smoking jacket, and growing jealous when he learned you had such a classy suitor.
Maybe I crossed the line a bit by sending a married woman a love letter, but in my defense, you’re very, very pretty.
Zooey, I have to warn you up front, I’m not interested in leaving my wife, because where else am I going to find a woman that will let me write love letters to celebrities and exaggerate her jealousies? I say ‘exaggerate’, but in complete honesty, when we watched your first episode of New Girl, and it turned out to be really funny, and you were so outstanding, I thought she was going to have an aneurysm. She wasn’t able to sleep for a week.
I’m not interested in a serious relationship, but I am interested in recruiting you for one of the following three roles:
Stalker–How impressive would it be if a major celebrity was stalking me? “Don’t answer the phone; it’s probably just Zooey Deschanel again.”
Groupie–You could come to any theater or comedy performances and laugh louder than anyone else–even if it wasn’t a comedy–and stay afterwards to tell everyone how brilliant and under-appreciated I am. Make sure and say this within earshot of my wife. Whenever I had a bad idea and people started to say it was terrible, you could turn the tide by using your beauty and charm and melodious singing voice to convince people they just weren’t ready to understand my kind of vision.
Ex-girlfriend–Whenever I go out with new friends, and I want to make an impression, maybe you could bump into me and pretend we dated years earlier and I dumped you and you were devastated. You’d start off really nonchalant and say you were over me and then at the end you’d break down in tears and beg me to take you back. After security escorted you away because you were making a scene, my new friends would ask, “Was that the singer/actress Zooey Deschanel?” And I would answer, “Singer? Actress? Are you saying she’s somebody famous?”