Dear Simon Baker

There was a dark time in my life where I became overwhelmed by school and work and in a successful attempt to avoid my real world responsibilities I obsessively watched fake lives on TV. It was fantastic. For a time. But it meant the homework I was finding too intimidating to do, simply didn't get done. I nearly failed a class and was deeply ashamed of it. One of the shows I was watching was The Mentalist. In my desperate, fragile, emotional state, I immediately fell in love with Patrick Jane. You can't help loving his egotistical insensitivity (which in real life would make me kick him in the groin and call him a heartless douche bag) so why fight it? I wanted to hold him and tell him I alone understood his deep, suppressed pain over his murdered wife and child. 

Pretty quickly I found myself looking up interviews of the actor who plays him. I rarely watch interviews, I usually just don't care enough, but as soon as I watched one of him, I had to watch as many as I could find. After that it wasn't just Patrick Jane I loved, it was Simon Baker. Once I heard his Australian accent (he does a great American accent on the show), there was no going back. I've always been a sucker for Aussies. I laughed a little too hard at the jokes he made in his interviews and found ways to bring him up in conversation in my real life: "Really? I hate baking, too much work. You know what I do like though? Simon Baker." Or, "I can tell you're really angry right now because you're crossing your arms and clenching your teeth. I learnt that from The Mentalist. What? You want to know who plays Patrick Jane?" and they're like, "I never said anything." I basically told anyone who would listen that Simon Baker was amazing. They probably wanted to smack me. But you see, not only is he handsome, he's so humble that when he was voted sexiest man on TV at what he considers the ripe old age of 40 he thought it was ridiculous and insane. On top of that he's a pro surfer, comes from a lowly upbringing and he's a great actor (see? There I am, doing it again). Plus, every girl loves a guy who is faithful and loving to his wife and a great father to his kids, no matter that I would cry myself to sleep at night that I was not in his life.

It was the first time since grade six that I actually obsessed over a movie star. When I was younger I didn't understand those girls at camp who put posters of JTT on the wall of their bunks. Maybe I was just behind in my sexual maturity, but I like to think I was too smart and levelheaded. However, after seeing Titanic in grade six my heart would go on for Leonardo Dicaprio only, except, you know, after I saw Josh Hartnett in Pearl Harbor. I definitely fell prey to cutting pictures of them out of magazines and taping them to my bedroom walls. Well, when I found a picture in a magazine of Patrick Jane wearing his debonair vest and suit, I couldn't help myself. I got the scissors. I didn't put it on my wall but my plan was to paste it onto a photo of myself to look like we were hanging out, laughing really hard at a secret joke between just the two of us, and mail it to him with a letter telling him I too prefer Crest toothpaste. It was going to be awesome.

I am ashamed to say it, but yes, I did write him a letter, and was going to send it too. I tried to make it as funny as possible so he would know I didn't take myself seriously (which I never do), but also sneak in how charming and adorable I am so that he would have no choice but to write back and confess we were probably meant for each other. I even found his address online. I had written to Kellogg's to let them know a large portion of their raisins in Raisin Bran have gone bad, but other than that I had spent my life looking down upon those who legitimately thought they would stand out from all the other obsessive fans writing fan mail. Now I had become them. Fortunately, after much therapy, I gained back my sanity before sending it. It was an intense experience, not at all fun like you would think. It was actually quite horrible to know how pathetic you were, to have tricked yourself into thinking you loved someone because you got to know them to a small, superficial extent through secondary sources. I don't recommend it. Below you'll find my post-obsession letter I am just now writing for the final stage of my therapy. I would let you read the letter I wrote originally if I hadn't burnt it in a death-to-my-Simon Baker-obsession healing ritual (not actually; in fact, I still have it somewhere with my magazine cutout and the t-shirt I made that says "Mental for The Mentalist." Maybe in ten years I will send it. And no, I didn't go to therapy. But that doesn't make it okay.)

March 24, 2011 

Dear Simon Baker,

       Why are you so good looking? It is totally unfair that so many men get better looking as they get older and so many women, well, don't. That is a great injustice. Also, I would like you to teach me how to surf. How can I get that arranged? 

       As for the purpose of this letter,  I am finally in a healthy enough, post-obsession mindset that I can bring to your attention a few things. You see, I don't think you quite realize the effect you have on people and I think it is time to take responsibility for your actions. In particular, your effect on women. More specifically, that you make grown women cut out pictures of you. It's totally unfair and comes without warning. You must have known that I would watch your show and instantly fall in love with you. If so you would also know that you would be unable to reciprocate my love because your affections currently lay elsewhere. Namely, with your wife. You would know that this would bring me deep heartache, and yet you never stopped production of the show. How dare you seduce me like that? Have you no shame? Does your wife know about us?

       This was supposed to be a therapeutic letter, but after my heartfelt outburst I've come to the conclusion that I've come too far to let your current successful marriage get in the way of our future happiness. Yes, your daughter is already a teenager, but hey, if she doesn't mind having a twenty-three-year-old mother, I think we should get married as soon as possible. I suppose I could move to Australia if you asked me to, if for no other reason than because of my undying love for you, but not where they have the deadliest animals on earth all in one location. That is asking too much.

       I know you will probably use your Mentalist skills on me, but I don't mind. I wonder what you would know about me instantly just by looking at my work desk? Well, I've got two pictures I colored hanging up, so you'll know I love Alladin and really like unicorns. This will concern you because you will realize that I will want two-dozen-minus-one children and you will have to think very hard about whether you want to be changing diapers until you are sixty. You will notice that there is a sticker on my monitor of the rat from Ratatouille that says "You are special!" but what your Mentalist skills won't be able to detect is that I  never put it there; it came with the monitor. But knowing that, you would recognize it for what it is, a sign that I really am special and rejoice with me at finally being recognized. You will see my Celestial Seasonings Chai tea and be impressed at my good taste because you yourself have a serious tea addiction and must know that Celestial Seasonings makes the best Chai tea. Period. And after all this, 45 minutes later I will find out that I murdered someone.

       Basically what it comes down to is this one question I have for you: will you marry me?

Sincerely,

Faith xoxoxo

P.S. I await your response by owl.

Here is his funny acceptance speech for winning a GQ Man of Style award. I think it explains everything I love about him perfectly.