Tell a bunch of people you meet at a party that John Mayer is one of your favorite songwriters, and you may get a few curt nods, perhaps even one or two wide-eyed declarations of agreement, but quite often, you will see rolled eyes and barely restrained scoffs instead. Whether a result of the off-putting public persona Mayer was putting forth a few years ago or a lingering disrespect for the artist’s early pop radio hits, I have found that a lot of people still dismiss John Mayer as an asshole, a playboy, and a mediocre songwriter. I can’t claim to have met the man and wouldn’t presume to make accusations in the first two categories, but I have always found it strange that my friends and family members don’t share so much as a fraction of my adoration for Mayer’s musical output, especially because he has proven himself to be so much more than just the twenty-something heartthrob that sang “Your Body is a Wonderland” on MTV over a decade ago.