Dear George…

I hope you get this note inbetween your trips to Cabo and selling your house in Italy because the wrestler doesn’t feel comfortable there (fyi – I wouldn’t have given a rats ass).  It’s a hard one for me to write.  You have been my guy.  I passionately defended you to my friends who said you were just a so-so actor (remember Facts of Life); I can reenact that scene from ER perfectly…you know the one where you save that kid from drowning in the storm drain.  Oh Doug Ross – how I wished you to be my ER doc.

Over the last few years – I’ve watched you jump from Vegas cocktail waitress, to the Italian queen (do you know she’s with some guy from Jackass now!!), and now the wrestler.  I’ve shrugged my shoulders and thought – meh, he’s biding his time until, like Vince Vaughan, he heads to the Great White North to meet a real woman.

And then I saw The Artist.  

And today, I saw Jean interviewed on Leno… put down the wine George and watch this…even you have to admit he oozes it (oh and Debra Messing?  You’re making me realize how annoying my outloud laugh likely is to everyone around me).

Then I read about him in The Hollywood Reporter – and saw this picture…and well George…it’s over.  I’m sorry.

Look – it’s been fun, (well for me).  The fantasies..the plans.  Trust me we were going to have a great life together.  But for now?  I’m heading to the land where the brie is plentiful and the taps overflow with red wine.  I’m on a new hunt.  Sure he’s married.  Sure we hardly speak the same language.  But nothing worth having is easy right?

So ciao George.  And Jean – bonjour mon ami.  Voulez vous….

(let the restraint orders be printed… and someone get me a razor..those are some hairy legs)