When I was a tween I loved Micky Dolenz of The Monkees.
I mean.
I.
Loved.
Micky.
Dolenz.
Some friends and I did a seance with a Ouija board. The spirits told me I would marry Micky Dolenz.
Swoon.
I kept a scarp book with soooo many pictures of Micky cut from Tiger Beat magazine.
And then. He got married. Not to me.
Snivel. Sob.
I wrote him a letter telling him about the seance and my love. I said I knew I had to let that go. I hoped he'd be happy with his new wife.
Sniff. Choke.
I sent him the (by then) huge scrap book full of pictures.
He wrote me a letter saying thank you and he hoped we could still be friends.
I'd written a few letters before that and always received a post card with a picture of the Monkees and some oblique text. The letter was short but clearly hand written.
HOW COOL WAS THAT????
I don't know what happened to it which makes me so mad at myself! I wonder if he kept the notebook.
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