Love Letters, pt. 8

Dear Jack Black,

I love you even more than I love Sheldon Cooper (the fact that Sheldon Cooper is fictional makes this no less meaningful).

When all of my friends were going to see “The Holiday” for Jude Law’s dreamy looks I was going to see you (once in theatres and more times than I should admit in public while at home). “School of Rock” is one of my guilty pleasure movies and though I mostly love “Gulliver’s Travels” for Chris O’Dowd (he’s just so dreamy) I still smile when you come on screen.

You are a lovely, talented man and you possess the most engaging sense of humour I have ever known.

Now, I’m not going to lie, I haven’t watched all of your movies or listened to Tenacious D (aside from that one song, “Tribute (the Best Song in the World)”, which, if I am being honest, isn’t’ really the best … is our fake relationship at the stage where I can be honest?). But still I feel as if I know you.

Oh, the times we could have! Both of us having mastered the intense stare, creeping people out as we hold hands and judge those around us while secretely craving their admiration.

As if we are kindred spirits, two halves of the same humour driven soul.

Or, at the very least, very compatible beneath the sheets.

Still, I am in a loving and committed relationship and you, I guess, are married, so this potentially life changing love of ours can never go beyond this letter.

You will go on never knowing that the piece missing from your life is me and I will go on watching “The Holiday” for the seven hundred and fiftieth time never admitting to Kevin why there are tears glistening in my eyes.

We will be like Romeo and Juliet but without the death, without the disturbingly young ages, and without any of the other major plot points … or the minor ones for that matter.

Like the man on the bus our love story is over before it ever truly began.

But my love will go on, unrequited and unnecessary.




That eyebrow, that moustache, that beard! Ah, the face of love.