A Love Letter to Morrissey, my fellow celibate

Dear Morrissey,
Now I understand. I spent years mocking your psycho-fans who like to call you 'the Moz' and dress like you and fix their hair like you. While I still think they are obsessive freaks, I can now empathize with them. I've never had anything against them (one of my best friends is one), but I didn't understand. I had never seen you play live.

I saw your show at the Apollo last night and it all makes sense. You are even better live: you sing better, you look better, and the dancing is most entertaining. Unlike the way you appear on video and in photographs, which can look rather silly, your performance was fabulous. Even the pink flowers hanging from your fly made sense, as did the way you caressed your own chest and swung the mic cord around like a whip in a suggestive manner.

Thank you for playing three Smiths songs. I especially enjoyed "There is a light that never goes out". The line, "if a double-decker bus kills the both us, to die by your side, the pleasure the privilege is mine' is one of the most romantic lyrics ever written. That's true love.
My best friend who flew up from Atlanta said she'd die if you sang "How Soon is now" but I'm relieved you didn't. No one but Johnny Marr can play that song. Can't be done. I'm glad you recognize that.

We had perfect seats on the first row of the first mezzanine. We didn't want orchestra seats with the weirdos rushing the stage, throwing flowers and crying (we couldn't afford them really). The crowd generally was very cool, and full of good-looking, stylish men with good taste in music. Except for the loser sitting next to my friend who stole her $30 T-shirt. He was not a real fan and did not deserve to see your show. He came late and sat there drinking beer the whole time while everyone else sang and danced and screamed. You should consider screening people before they're allowed in. Instead of getting a pat-down from security, they should give a Morrissey exam.

Thanks for adding the new guys to your band. They all looked so cute in their little mod-boy 80s suits with the skinny ties, especially the drummer with the little mohawk. The keyboardist and extra guitar added much to the sound that can no longer be called sissy.

We're sorry we missed meeting you. We understand you probably fear your fans and try to sneak away from the venue quickly. I would too if I were you. Your drummer was very sweet to us when we waited outside in the rain to talk to your band. We were the only people still out there when he poked his head out the door. I said, "you're the dummer!" because I am just so astute and erudite in such situations. He smiled and said "Yes, I am" then went back in. Later, when the band left the drummer thanked us for coming out.

Please don't cancel your tour before I get to see you play again Thursday night! That habit is the reason I haven't seen you before now. Although, now that I have seen you, I fear I may have crossed the line into freaky fanaticism. But I only have tickets to two of your shows, not all five. And I will never style my hair into a pompadour.

Love, JL the celibate

Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetically hilarious exploits of me not having sex in the city.