Dear Ms. Heap,
My deepest thanks are yours for the show you performed on March 25th, in Melbourne Australia, which I attended. Your voice is an amazing instrument, and I am always astounded at the intricacies of your finely-crafted lyrics. I would have enjoyed nothing more than to stand there for 3 further hours and listened to anything you deigned to sing for me.
I was overjoyed to have my request for an instrumental in the key of A♭ honoured by you, and played for me on the spot; I was impressed once again with your mastery of the pianoforte.
Your cover of Tori Amos’ Cornflake Girl was nothing short of inspired, and a complete surprise. It was a highlight of the evening for me. There are not many artists I would trust with one of her pieces, but you handled it beautifully.
Your acoustic rendition of ‘Wait It Out’ brought tears to my eyes. It has been my favourite song these past 9 months, and I was deeply moved by the way you played it, and your soulful delivery of the melodies.
In short, my experience of your concert was completely captivating, and I was driven to the fervent use of expletives in my later attempts to describe it.
I will now proceed to the secondary reason for this letter.
You mentioned in passing, during one of your scintillating soliloquies between songs, that you find yourself currently in a close relationship with a man. You even went so far as to affectionately refer to him as your ‘boyfriend’.
Now, I am an understanding man, and my friends inform me that I have cultivated quite a broad sense of humour. I can assure you that I will take it all in stride if you tell me that this was a prank (an early April Fool’s, perhaps?), and that you are, in fact, still available for marriage. I can take a joke.
But holy crap, woman, THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE TRUE.
I have waited, like, 6 frikkin’ years for an opportunity to meet you in person and propose. And now, for some unfathomable reason I can only ascribe to the universe’s apparent hatred of me, I find myself pipped at the post by some unnamed and (I’m assuming) ill-mannered gold-digger of a good-for-nothing nobody. This is extremely… disconcerting.
Ah-hem. I beg your pardon for my outburst.
I am not sure that you have fully taken into your considerations the depth and sincerity of my love for you. You cannot have completely factored in my affection and endearment towards you, or you would not have so flippantly crushed my entire collection of dreams with your careless declaration.
I am a patient man, though. And I am perfectly happy to wait while you carefully extricate yourself from the misunderstanding this other man currently has with you, and will still welcome you back with open arms.
I will also understand if you need time to finish your world tour – and to get things sorted out and packed up back at your home in England – in preparation for your eventual flight and relocation to Melbourne, upon which happy day we will be married at the soonest opportunity.
As always, I am completely in love with everything about you. And in light of my revelations to you regarding my feelings on this matter, I await your reply at the earliest convenience.
I remain your greatest admirer (despite what that creep may have whispered to you over hot chocolates in Brighton coffee shops).