Dear Jon Hamm,
You are ruining my life.
Here’s the thing, I never paid much attention to you before. I’ve never seen an episode of “Mad Men” so my primary frame of reference for you was as the douche in “Bridesmaids” and even seeing that, I distinctly remember thinking – “Okay, he’s good-looking, but he’s not THAT good-looking.” (No offense.) I just didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Some of it, sure. But all of it? Nah.
And maybe a year ago, a friend of mine sent me a text saying that she had seen you on the street. And I could not be bothered to care. (Again, no offense. I feel that way about all celebrities that are not Tina Fey or Celine Dion).
But then last week I happened to get tickets to a taping of Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show and you happened to be the first guest. And life as I know it happened to end.
You came out in that suit. With that beard. On that face. With that hair. And that height. And you ruined my life. All of it. And you need to answer for that.
You need to explain to me how I’m supposed to function now? How am I supposed to go on, Jon Hamm? Knowing that men like you actually exist. Not just on covers and screens brought to us by the magic of makeup, lighting and filters, but in actual life. I mean, you actually look better in real life than on camera. How is that even a thing? Are you an evil wizard, Jon Hamm? And are you taking pleasure from the pain you’re causing?
Because I am in pain.
Looking at you in person was like staring at the sun. It was a mistake. A life destroying mistake. And I feel like I should have been warned. It is cruel and careless of you to just walk around looking the way you do. It causes legitimate hardship. For the women who have seen you and for all the men who would like to date those women, but are not you.
I just don’t know what to do now, Jon Hamm. Because all I want now is a you. Not you specifically, but something like you. And that want is causing a crisis of faith. I’ve seen you, so I know such a thing is possible, but is such a thing possible for me? I just don’t know. Does God really love me that much? I just don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out.
As if love wasn’t already impossible enough to find, you have made everything so much worse. And I can’t even be mad at you. You know, because of your face. Your stupid wonderful bearded face.
Anyway, I just thought you should know what you’re doing to the people around you. It’s already too late for me. My life is ruined and there’s no going back, but you seem like a nice guy (which doesn’t help things AT. ALL.) so maybe, for the sake of others, you could start taking some precautions before you go out in public. Wearing a brown paper bag is probably a bit extreme, but maybe you could wear a beret and a bluetooth earpiece. Or those Google glass glasses. Or a fanny pack. Something. Anything to keep you from shining so brightly.
It’s the least you could do to keep more lives from being ruined needlessly. So please, Jon Hamm. Just… please.
Trying to cope with the life you’ve left me.
All the best,