As I sit here listening to the soulful tunes of my new pretend boyfriend, my mind wanders back to Saturday night when John Mayer sang to me.

Me and everyone else at the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion, but that’s not the point. I like to think we had a connection. I’m sure he felt it too.

I was introduced to John Mayer later in life. This seems to happen to me a lot. I’m sort of slow discovering what’s “in” with the world. Sure I had heard of him. I knew that he was looking forward to running through the halls of his high school and screaming at the top of his lungs. I was aware that he was really passionate about waiting on the word to change. And that he thought some chick’s body was a wonderland.

But then I heard “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” and I was hooked. I immediately went and purchased his Continuum album and fell in love with his bluesy acoustic sound, preferring those to the more “pop” tracks.

You can imagine my excitement for seeing him in concert for the first time ever. Saturday night could not come fast enough. The crowd was pumped. The outdoor theater was hot. The energy was palpable and the anticipation was infectious. We heard the music swell and then a spotlight beamed down.

And there he was.

I nearly peed my pants when I saw he was shirtless. Did I think this was odd? I’m pretty sure the obvious answer is, “Who cares?” All I know is that is was hot and he never made an obnoxious point to address the crowd as to why he was sans shirt. He was just feeling the audience vibe, the heat and the music. And I LOVED that he had a buzz cut.

His first song was “Waiting on the World to Change.” Since this is not one of my favorites, I decide to take this time to text everyone I know and rub it in that I’m in the sweat vicinity of the great John Mayer.

My pretend boyfriend played from 9:00 to 10:45, stopping only to switch guitars. I have to say that he is talented, sounds exactly like his recordings and has an obvious passion for what he does in his life. I love seeing people in their element and he was in his on that stage.

Now let’s talk about the face.

Yes. Yes he makes weird faces when he sings. But I’m going to return to my original point from earlier and say, “WHO CARES!” Dude…whatever you need to do to make you sound the way you sound is fine by me.

It was a nice mixture of chill, thrilling and crazy entertainment. And then he ended with “Gravity.”

This is my song. I had to sit down because my knees went weak. Lord.

This is a pic (from the Jumbotron screen) of John during the riff at the end of the song. The best way to describe “Gravity” would to simply say, “mmh.” There are no words. I needed a cigarette afterwards and I don’t smoke. It was that good.

After the audience goes nuts for an encore, he returns to the stage, claiming that if someone takes the time to go to the art store and make a poster requesting a song, he will sing it.

One lady’s poster said, “Your music is my Xanax.”

Amen sister.

Another one read simply, “SAY!”

And that’s how the night ended…with “Say” and a ton of screaming fans. It was 0ne of the best concerts I’ve ever been to.

At church the next day, I left my Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion venue arm bracelet on so people would ask me where I had been. Is that too much information to share? Regardless, I would gush about how he sang to me, was shirtless and how I’m starting a campaign to be the Houston fan club president. In almost every instance, the person I was talking to would ask if Jennifer Aniston was there.

Following my theme from the night before, my answer was always, “Who cares?”

I fully suspect to have John’s people call my people in the next few days and Jennifer will be a thing of the past.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: it’s good to have goals people.


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