My dearest Elliot, (and your Arms)
I was quite distraught to have it brought to my attention that you and your beautiful arms will no longer be starring on Law and Order SVU. I realize this letter may seem a bit belated, but I must admit that I’ve been remiss in my duty as a devoted SVU fan and have not been watching the show in recent months due to my own self-obsession.
I must tell you that my heart felt as if it had been crushed by a thousand elephant’s asses when my beloved friend Delightful informed me that you and your arms were done for after she began watching the show to better understand my obsession with your real life persona Chris Meloni. I felt faint, and had to rest my head on the make-table at work, (which was quite unsanitary, so I had to waste time re-sanitizing it. Thanks.) How can life ever be the same if I am no longer able to adore the Catholic tattoo that graces you uber-buff bicep? I will no longer be able to fantasize your upper appendages being wrapped around my naked body in a passionate embrace, or lifting me from a burning building.
I am bereaved at the fact that I will no longer be able to yell your arms through the TV, screaming, “Just squeeze Olivia already, dammit!” and the fact I will never have had the satifaction of seeing you and she crawling out of bed mostly naked after finally giving in to the sexual tension greatly perturbs me.
No longer shall my desire be whetted by watching marathons of newer SVU episodes that I haven’t seen a million times. While Richard Belzer’s character Munch is somewhat sexy in a twisted, highly-intelligent old man sort of way, he does not hold a candle to you, Ell. (Or your arms)
My dream of one day playing a victim that you have saved, or maybe replacing Olivia as your partner is destroyed. Where am I to go from here? My life is in ruins and I am in the depths of despair.
While your real-life persona Chris Meloni may yet impassion me by starring in big-budget movies, (or True Blood, I hear) I feel that will never compare to the intimate relationship we’ve had for the past ten, Elliot’s Arms. How could you think of making such a career choice without consulting me? Do you not know how I pine for your beefiness? Do you not know of the fire that burns in my loins at the thought of your sinewy strength? My yoga pants are dewy just writing about it.
My only hope is that you (or the producers of SVU) will come to your senses, and you will yet again grace my T.V. screen on a weekly basis. I will be waiting, bereft and inconsolable, until that time comes, Elliot and Elliot’s Arms.
With all the desire in my 5’3″ frame,
A Heartbroken Sparklebumps