I know liberals like to hate on you because you say mean things about gay people. Don’t worry though. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. You love Jesus a whole lot and don’t really care what other people say or think. In your mind, you’re trying to get the gay people into heaven and it’s everyone else who has the problem. You’re sort of like Rick Santorum in your ‘don’t give a damn’ capacity. On an abstract level, I respect that. But this isn’t a letter about gay people. This letter is very heterosexual (or hetero-normative, if you went to grad school…Wikipedia doesn’t mention it, so you probably didn’t. Never mind). Anyway, this is about you and the thoughts you put in my mind.
I grew up watching you on TV, and even then, I had a thing for you. I believe you were an atheist when I first laid eyes on you. That didn’t matter to me though. What mattered to me was your unkempt curls and scheming smile. I was a straight-A goody-good back then. Come to think of it, I could have played Carol. Though I guess if I played Carol this letter would be weird, so don’t think of it that way. Let’s just move along.
Kirk, it wasn’t sexual in the beginning. I was only thirteen. I know thirteen year-olds now have grandchildren, but back then, all the way back in 1996, thirteen year-olds just wanted to hold hands. I definitely wanted to hold yours. The thing is, we’re both adults now. Kirk, I feel like I can trust you enough to tell you that I have lust in my heart and you’re not helping matters. I’m very serious and I can prove it.
Even though I don’t really have religious beliefs, I sat through Left Behind just to see you. I couldn’t help noticing how sexual you looked, though. It was wrong, Kirk, wrong. I also saw you in Fireproof. You weren’t expecting that, were you? A lot of people don’t even know about that movie. My parents own a copy of it, and one night when I was home for Christmas, I watched it. I later read online that you didn’t want to cheat on your wife by kissing the actress who played your wife, so you had your real wife stand-in for her during the closing kiss. I thought that was adorable. I could go on and tell you about the episodes of Way of the Master I’ve watched, but I think the point has been made.
This had gotten a bit long-winded, Kirk, so I’ll just be frank and tell you what I need to stop this disgusting, adulterous feeling. I need you to be insecure and start stuttering when reporters ask you pointed questions about your 17th century beliefs. You’re too confident and it’s really a turn on. You’re also too perfect and principled. I need you stop walking the walk and talking the talk. Morals are for preaching, not following. Find an El Salvadorian transvestite prostitute and get a blow job at an abortion clinic. Also, I need you to shave your head. If you buzzed off your alluring hair (which I want to run my fingers through) and emerged with a bumpy, bald head I could only pat, I’m sure I’d get over you. I know this is a lot to ask, Kirk. I know you can do it though. I want to go to heaven and I’m counting on you.