John Mayer Must Die

I wonder if women look at certain others of their gender and think, "If any man slept with her, I'd lose all respect for him and never allow him inside me." I'm thinking of a "rock bottom" sort of woman. Like Courtney Love.

Women know women; I've had female friends give me insight into their peers that took me weeks to uncover on my own, if I ever was able to at all. Sometimes the insight I've been given has seemed so bizarre and foreign I've simply shaken my head and accepted it as crazy.

Likewise, men know men. We can look at another peened person and size him up fairly accurately, and especially so when it comes to the low end of the spectrum: douche bags.

I don't know the name of the song, but I remember the first time I heard of John Mayer. I had VH1 on in the background, and this video with popped collar and sideways hat frat boys jumping up and down to the whitest of white, soulless music, came on. The singer was blathering on about running through the halls of his high school, and after vomiting a spoonful of stomach acid up into my mouth, I changed the channel.

Naturally, every subsequent song has created a similar reaction in me; "Your Body Is A Wonderland," "Waiting on the World to Change…" every time I hear a new Mayer song, I wonder who listens to it, and why. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think music should elicit some sort of emotional pull from the listener, be it joy, sorrow, anger or what have you. With John Mayer, the songs are simply safe. It's the sugar free, vanilla, zero calorie yogurt selection at the custard stand of music that is thousands of flavors deep.

Regardless, in the country of "G.W. for president!" and "Wild Hogs is a hilarious hit movie," it's no surprise the man has made a career of passionless warbling. With that career comes the public eye, and with the public eye comes public dating. And a pattern.

Love 'em and leave 'em is the John Mayer signature style of dating. He comes on strong, acts entirely passionate, then moves on. He writes his songs, is able to look deeply into stupid eyes and trick women into thinking he's romantic, when in actuality he's nothing more than the geek from high school run amok with newfound popularity.

While this was fine and dandy when he was dating those who had already opened their interviewing mouths and exposed extreme stupidity—Jen Love Hewitt, Jessica Simpson—I have to admit that his current relationship with Jen Aniston came as a surprise, and disappointment. Though no one deserves to be put on a pedestal, sometimes you just sort of give people a little more credit than they're worth. Sure, Jen dated Tate Donovan, which was as confusing as the Michelle Pfeiffer/Fischer Stevens debacle of the 1980's, but as Pfeiffer ended up happily married to David E. Kelley, Jen eventually landed Brad Pitt. The elevation of the marriage partner erased all previous mistakes.

Maybe divorce shattered her. It would explain the Vince Vaughn downgrade, but that was a rebound, something everyone is entitled. But it's been years, and this is just a silly mistake, something men see women doing constantly. I mean, apparently no one took Halle Berry aside and slapped her, saying, "Ok, I know you went through a bad divorce with dumb jock David Justice, but if you think marrying a musician who used to fuck women in the ass in Milwaukee bathrooms is a smart thing to do, you can't cry foul when he eventually cheats on you."

Either way, I always liked Jen. I thought her to be a little smarter than to fall for Mr. Mayer. When they break up in a few weeks or months, she better not whine and cry heartbreak, because failure was a gimmie going in.

Oh well.

Maybe women need more male friends, and men need more female friends.

Maybe we'd all make fewer mistakes if we asked for, and listened to, more advice.

And maybe we'd all give better advice if people listened without anger, blame or resentment when the words aren't those we want to hear.

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