I Wish I'd Never...Sent That Love Letter to Anthony Kiedis

I had hit the jackpot: the man whose child I was now baby-sitting was a business manager for a few bands. And not just any bands, my friends, but THE band. The band I've worshipped as performing music from Heaven itself. One of the last great sustaining rock bands. The one, the only, the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I have had a minor obssession (which technically has grown into an uncomfortable obssession as of late) with Anthony Kiedis (the lead singer of RHCP) since I saw their Behind the Music in 1998 for the first time. I had no idea who he was or who they were but I was instantly drawn in by his sexy butt-length brown hair and his commanding eyes. The band's story was made for Hollywood and was nothing short of a rock legend. This first encounter with Anthony was but a brief moment of "Wow, that guy is HOT, maybe I'm not attracted to blonde preps with popped collars after all." Then I filed it away and pretty much forgot about them until 2002, when By the Way was released. It was the summer after I graduated from high school, and the album became the soundtrack to my first summer as a legal adult. The obssession began to grow.

Fast forward to 2003. I see the Chili Peppers in concert for the first time. Though I was seated essentially miles away from the stage, I was instantly drawn in by their stage presence and Anthony's undeniable charisma and charm. The concert was a milestone, as it strengthened my love for Anthony and obssession with the band.

For Christmas that year, a friend who had attended the concert with me gave me Anthony's autobiography, Scar Tissue. I read it cover to cover on my flight back to Los Angeles from London (where my family lived). It was a pretty unbelievable tale of Hollywood's golden age, of fate, of karma, of cosmic amazingness. Another momentous thing came from reading that book, though: I realized that Anthony Kiedis and I were soul mates.

Bite your tongue, naysayers. I have done the astrological compatibility tests and let me assure you, we are soul mates. Scorpio (Anthony) and Pisces (me) are one of the best matches on the Zodiac. That was enough for me. It cemented my obssession with Anthony and since then I have pretty much been certifiable. But NO, this is not your average celebrity crush. Why not? Because, duh, we're soul mates.

Which brings me to February of 2005. The sister and brother-in-law of a family I baby-sat for here in Los Angeles called me in a frenzy asking if I could baby-sit for them, as their nanny (excuse me, au pair) was going out of town. Sure, why not? House in Brentwood, I figured it could be a cool gig. That weekend when I was cleaning up the kitchen for these obviously wealthy people I found a backstage badge for the By the Way tour. When the parents got home that evening, I casually mentioned it to them.

"Oh yeah," the mom said. "[He] represents the Red Hot Chili Peppers."

Cue jaw dropping, heart racing, adrenalin pumping. I couldn't believe it. Not only did the stars say we were destined to be together, I was now ONE DEGREE REMOVED FROM THE MAN HIMSELF. I regained my composure, expressed how cool I thought that was, and went on my way, all the while the Crazy Bells in my head banging away to the tune of "YOU'RE GOING TO MARRY ANTHONY! YOU'RE GOING TO MARRY ANTHONY!"

After discussing it thoroughly with my roommate, I decided I should take a chance and see if this guy wouldn't mind getting my copy of his book autographed. In retrospect, that was stupid, because a soul mate wouldn't ever be so pathetic as to ask for her mate's autograph. But I was still young and stupidly in love.

However, that really wasn't the stupid part. The stupid part was allowing myself to be convinced that this might be the only opportunity I would ever have to share my love and knowledge of our soul matedness with Anthony, and, thus, I should write him a letter. So I did.

I wrote a sappy, dramatic, crazy-laced paragraph expressing my deep appreciation for his words, his music, his story, and shared that I was so touched by his work because I felt like I could truly relate to him. I tucked it inside the front cover of the book, and, after getting the go-ahead from the guy's sister-in-law, passed on my book with the aforementioned letter enclosed, though against my better judgment.

I didn't get the book back for nearly a year, but it was autographed--even addressed to me--in his beautiful handwriting. I was so happy. I was also so happy that many many more one degree separation connections between me and Anthony had been made in the interim time.

I only found it slightly strange that I hadn't been asked to baby-sit for this family for months--after all, they did have a full time nanny (excuse me, au pair). However, it wasn't until a few weeks later that I learned why they had stopped calling me to baby-sit.

"Oh, they think you're crazy," his sister-in-law said.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, they read your letter to Anthony Kiedis. They think you're a heroin addict."

My stomach dropped. My heart rose to my throat. My vision went all spotty. I couldn't believe it. They READ my LETTER?! Isn't that, like...ILLEGAL?! Opening someone else's mail is against the law, for God's sake! My knees started to knock together and I thought I was going to die. In one second I became thirteen years old again, a silly little girl who wanted to write letters to Prince William and run away with Paul McCartney.

The parents laughed. "Yeah, apparently you said something about being able to relate to him in your letter? They interpreted that as you're a heroin addict. They don't want you around our kids."

"W-what...what? What did you say?!"

"We laughed! I thought it was hysterical! Obviously you're not a heroin addict."

Obviously.

I didn't see the manager father again until a birthday party several months later. I decided I had two options: to be embarrassed and cower away in a corner, hoping he didn't recognize me, or I could face him head on and turn the embarrassment on HIM.

"So!" I said, marching right up to him. "I hear you think I'm crazy."

He was, needless to say, caught off-guard. "N-no, no, of course not, I just..." he stammered.

I smiled. "It's okay. I guess I am a little crazy."

No sooner had I said the words did I realize that they were true. I was finally embracing my craziness, for all that it's done for me.

But still, I wish I'd never sent that love letter to Anthony Kiedis.