Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Beyonce': Where is the old school love?
Call me old fashioned. As open minded as I am about some things, there are others that reflect my age, social conditioning, and unwillingness to bend so hard that stuff begins to break.
So, forgive me for saying it, I prefer that my potential girlfriend or wife wears clothes while in public space. I appreciate the female body, and understand why people lose their minds at the sight of a beautiful woman shaking her groove thang. I’m no prude, but I’d rather keep some things between the two of us.
I’d rather not talk nasty while others are listening. It’s no one’s business what happens after Luther and Smokey set the stage with candles burning, and an empty glass of wine to set the mood. Some things need to be left for those grown enough to handle that type of situation.
You feel me?
So, let me make it perfectly clear, I’m not hating on Beyoncé’ and her Boo for dragging their personal sex biz before the world to hear. Jay-Z has every right to play games with Queen B with lines like “I'm Ike, Turner, turn up Baby no I don't play, now eat the cake, Annie Mae Said, "Eat the cake, Annie Mae!"
The last time I checked, that’s not funny, but what a couple conceives as humorous is between him and her. Put another way, do your thang Hova, but don’t expect me to endorse that line of bull stank.
The clear references to domestic violence aside, I’m not a fan of couples broadcasting what they do, when they do, what they do. My old school ways demand a different approach to celebrating the woman I claim as my Queen.
She deserved to be wooed Jeffery Osborne style.
That you should be mine.
Anything you want
You've got to fortify my love, you fortify me,
You should be mine. Anything you want
You've got to fortify my love
Or, experience a man on his knees begging for another chance. Sing Lenny!
I said, "You know, sometimes you get lonely
You get lonely, you get lonely"
Oh, oh, oh and I cry, I cry
Oh, oh, oh
Whatever happened to baby, I love you music, and baby, baby, please give me one more chance music? The masses seem more interested in let’s get nasty music.
I celebrate Beyoncé‘s desire to express her sexual freedom as a way to promote her version of new age feminism. I support a woman’s right to shake her coke bottle curves like an upper cut in the face of patriarchy. Women have every right to clutch their sexuality like a thug with sagging pants. What’s good for the goose is good for the woman sick and tired of those double standards.
But please, baby, baby, please, don’t forget the love music. Don’t forget men like me interested in more than a short term memory. Talk to me about falling so deep in love that every love song makes you call her name and wish she was there to hear you say “I love you”.
Forgive me for being an old school dude in search of real love. Forgive me for getting angry when men objectify women, and desire no more than to hit it for a night. I suppose that makes me a dinosaur of sorts. Maybe that makes me the type of man too blind to acknowledge my love affair with patriarchy. Maybe it could be said my position proves a subconscious desire to control a woman’s vagina. Or, maybe I’m expressing my willingness to embrace a woman for more than what she looks like when naked.
I’m an old school dude searching for old school love. Memo to my future wife, the freaky stuff is for me and you.
I’m looking for love in all the right places.