My Letter to John Mason

Dear John Mason,

I don't know you, and honestly that's probably not all that bad. My name is Victor Damone, Jr., and I've followed your love life closely, well at least since it became as big as the insects in Texas, and have felt sorry for you. Now that things are said and done, I just want you to know that everything's gonna be okay in due time if you just let the crazy woman be.

I don't know what it feels like to get left at or close to the altar, nor do I want to know. I especially wouldn't care to be subjected to the circumstances with which you had to deal, you know, your wife-to-be literally disappearing for a few days.

Yeah, she - Jennifer Wilbanks, the infamous Runaway Bride - is a basket case and a few hundred apples and a root base short of a tree. She fled for "personal reasons" - i.e. she wasn't quite ready to jump the broom with you and she crazy - which should have thrown up a million red and white flags or blood cells, how ever you prefer it, inside your head.

Then came the national headlines. Everyone was searching for your wife-to-be including yourself. There legions of police officers scouring several states for her as though she were Elvis and she turned up on the other side of the country claiming to have been abducted and sexually assaulted, a far-fetched farce.

You should have retreated. Hell, any and about every other man would have thrown a towel, no wait, a white bedsheet her direction and started running the opposite way. But not you. You stayed.

I started wondering if your love were really that deep for this person who made you look like Boo Boo's biggest fool or were you really going to try to make things work. For trying, I think you have one of the biggest hearts in America. But for trying, I also think you're about as intelligent as a bag of rocks.

I must say, I'm glad you and Jennifer have split before going through with the wedding. I mean, what good is another divorce in this country that you can almost guarantee will go down, well, that is unless she just disappears again?

I wonder if they had a line in Vegas of whether or not you and Jennifer would actually marry. We all know where my money would be assured. That'd be like putting money on Secretatriat at The Belmont Stakes, guaranteed winnings for me.

Put it like this, a friend of yours told People Magazine: "I think John realized there were some fundamental differences in their personalities that he wasn't going to be able to deal with."

Ya don't think? She's fundamentally crazy, and it took you about a year too long to see what the rest of us saw when she showed up on our television screens in Arizona looking like a pack of hiyenas had been turned loose on her. No disrespect intended (think Bill Parcells and the Japanese people), but you have made an evident distinction between love and foolery.

So people stick around for love, you stuck around because, well, you were the fool. But nothing matters when fools fall in love.

Now, I don't know if she called things off or if you did. It really doesn't matter, though. Get your grief game on, but make it short-lived because you'll be thankful that you don't have that ignorance to deal with on a daily basis anymore - even if she gave you the pink slip.

You're going to wake up one day soon, look back and say "What the hell was I thinking all this time" and you're going to realize just how much of an idiot you were and how insane she is. But you'll be thankful that you got out when you did.

Hopefully, you're not wallowing in the ignorance that is your life. I know it must be hard. But look at it this way, at least she didn't waste that much more of your life. Now, please don't go find the sequel and do this same shit again. Please, don't.

Sincerely,
Victor