Try as I might, I haven’t been able to avoid news that Jennifer Aniston, an American actress famous for one TV show, is dating John Mayer. I don’t read the celebrity tabloids, but John keeps sending me OMG-laden text messages about “Jen,” as he calls her, along with rather intimate photographs. If you’re reading this John: I am impressed with Ms. Aniston’s flexibility, but what you do in your bedroom (or while driving your convertible) should really be kept to yourself.

This reminds me of my resolve to never, ever date another celebrity (this means you, Bono). I’ve had chances, believe me, especially right after our-first-single-which-will-remain-nameless. Ed has tried to set me up with Winona Ryder—looks like I dodged a bullet there—and more recently, Lily Allen has left some rather incoherent and indecent voicemails on my phone. Even if I wasn’t already happily settled down, I would never even think of dating a starlet, especially an American. Why, you ask? Well:

-I would never sleep with anyone who George Clooney has already gotten to, and that rather limits my options.

-Female celebrities tend to spend a lot of time at the beach, so dating one would necessitate me buying a bathing suit. (I haven’t gone swimming since 1985, when I tried to drown myself in the North Sea.)

-I do not find it attractive when women have visible skeletons.

-I tend to have different tastes in music than most actresses. I was talking to Lindsay Lohan once (god only knows why), and I mentioned I was really excited for the new Steinski release. She said, “Oh, is that the guy from Maroon 5? I love him!” and I had to excuse myself to go to the washroom and cry.

-The carbon footprint for most of these women is astounding. Did you know that every time Courtney Cox gets her hair done, we move ten minutes closer to Armageddon?

-Quite frankly, I don’t need to deal with another neurotic diva. I already have to deal with Phil, who just the other day refused to perform because he told the tour manager he wanted a scrambled emu egg, and he got ostrich. Why are drummers always obsessed with large flightless birds?