Editor’s note: This is the final of my Dear Joe letters. I have decided they are officially too creepy to continue writing. Fun, but a touch unhinged. And Joe, if you ever read these for some reason, like because you are about to file for a restraining order against me, it’s a joke. I didn’t mean it. But … I love you?
Dear Joe Purdy,
I have been unfaithful.
Please don’t get mad. But I strayed last night.
Yesterday, when I said I would be thinking of you during last night’s Patty Griffin/Amos Lee concert I meant it. I did. But it didn’t turn out that way. I thought of you exactly once. And it was more in the -I-hope-Ryan-didn’t-have-problems-picking-up-the-tickets-I-left-for-him-at-the-door kind of way.
I was seduced. It wasn’t my fault! There I was, in the middle of the Santa Cruz mountains with the crickets chirping, a warm breeze blowing kisses my way and Amos Lee serenading me under the stars … I lost all manner of self control. It was like being released in a donut shop during Lent. I was totally weak. I’m sorry.
Joe, I have to tell you this. And it may hurt. But Amos Lee is actually in love with me. I am not saying this to hurt you. But it’s true. And you are really going to have to step up your game if you want to keep me around. Amos belted out his “baby-making music” – his words, not mine – and he was definitely trying to romance me. I’m sorry. My mind did wander to places it shouldn’t have.
And to be honest, we took things a step further than we should have. Upon leaving, there he was. Waiting for me at the exit. We chatted. And it didn’t end there. He invited me to his show in two weeks at the Fillmore. I’m sorry.
Joe. We need to talk. Call me. Seriously. I want to work things out.
P.S. I am still your Skinny Dippin Girl. For now.