Skip to main content

::W.W.S.D. (what would Sade do)::

I fell in love with Sade when I was about 8. I'd never heard my father make a comment about any other woman besides my mother (and still haven't to this day) and there he was going on and on about the beauty of the woman. Naturally (because I was born with that nagging jealous bone all women have) I had to take a look at what fraud could be more beautiful than my own mother.
I went through his records and found the Stronger than Pride album. And she was there, staring at me with this look in her eye. This look of unattached strength. This look that she held the answer to every single question in life. And I played the music.
And from then on I was a junkie.
I couldn't get enough.
I held her as my standard of beauty and class for years afterwards.
She has that grace that is now only found in old movies, and black and white portraits from the past.
She is totally elusive. Unreachable. Untouchable. You never know what she's thinking. She's the quintessential sexual woman.
Unlike me, and many other women of today, whose mouths are sometimes better off closed. She never says more than she needs to.
She says it all through her music.
I can't even begin to count the nights I've cried to one of her songs. Or entire albums.
I felt myself in each and every one of them.
None more-so than Love is Stronger Than Pride.
When a situation would come up, and I didn't know what to do, I'd ask myself "what would Sade Do?" LOL I would walk into a bar alone, with my head up and my glass full. And even though the night before I could have been totally heartbroken and unable to move off the couch, you would never know it. I'd be strong, beautiful and untouchable by mere man.

I'd be a goddess.

And so this year Sade returns. Still beautiful. Still strong. Still hypnotizing.
And as always...a soldier of love.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

::Fathers, Harems and Brown Eyes::

Ahh Fathers Day. A day to honor the wonderful men in our lives. The ones who have passed on their great legacies unto us. Given us their last names. Provided us with a roof over our head and food on the table. The ones who have sent us to therapy for our "daddy" issues. sidenote: Hello unavailable, emotionally distant, workaholic men. Please thank my Dad for making me fall for you. lol My dad was very typical. Cold. Distant. Left all the "child raising" shit to my mother. So I find it strange that he's actually had a bigger influence on who I am than she has. I find myself physically and mentally more and more like him every day that I get older. I guess when you spend your whole life trying to chase after someone's love, you get to know then on a unique level. I remember me going through his bookshelf. Reading every single book he had. Going through and stealing all his old records. Reading his old newspaper articles from the Korean War. Looking through his...

:: Real Housewives of NJ. Aka, the poor man's Sopranos ::

I'm still laughing hysterically at the Real Housewives of New Jersey. I don't even know where to begin with this group of botox overdosed butter faces. Yeah I said it. Like Butta. Maybe I'm just uncomfortable that the short "juicy" (his wifes words not mine) husband literally pays for everything in cash. Hundreds. Crisp. Like fresh out of a suitcase left in Penn Station by someone named "Left Nut Louie". Or off the back of an unidentified white van, with NY plates. Or you know...maybe it could just be fresh out a regular ole' ATM machine. Maybe he just goes and deposits his checks like everyone else. Standing in line at TD Bank. Getting a free lollypop and biscuit for the dog. I dont know. Call me crazy but I just think this dude's money is a little toooooo crispy. It literally looks like he's holding his breath at all time. And can't put his arms down. It's actually painful to watch. You just wanna grab a safety pin and pop him. And ...