How your youthful, naive awkwarness captured our hearts. Your excellent hair and grimace guitar faces sucked us in like a vortex.
You caught a lucky break, dearest John Mayer, and nailed yourself a former attractive actress. So what if her weight fluctuated up and down like the temperature of a Florida winter? Several tattoos and fat supermodels later, you're still the man.
A Berklee attendee who gets off on making others wonder. Did you ever graduate? You write songs about smoking pot and being in love, yet you do not love. Are you sad, John Mayer?
A future legend, you are, John Mayer. Your douchebaggery is something I can overlook. And I do.
Come Back to Bed.