It’s complicated. On our off days, it’s an open relationship. Sometimes, it’s a civil union. Tomorrow, we’ll probably be in a domestic partnership. But, today, we’re married.
I met him a long time ago. We’ve gone through a rough patch the past few years. He changed along the way. But, so did I. Even when we were on the brink of separation, I knew that I only had eyes for him. I never thought I could love him the way that I do. I dig him. I love his style, his mind, his passion, the way he loves me and even the way we fight. After all, only he understands me.
When I’m moody, vile and contemptuous, he calms me. When I’m playful and pretty, he compliments me. And, when I’m seductive and sexy, he moves me. I admit that I flaunt it for the world to see. Public places, private spaces. This man is an animal. And, I don’t care who sees…or hears. He taught me to be free and embrace my wild side.
Grandmother said, “when you find something that good, you better hold on to it.” Mom wasn’t quite convinced, in the beginning. She thought he was reckless, loud and obnoxious. I admit that he wasn’t the best role model. What can I say? Good girls like bad boys; the ones with hard, cold cash money. His past may not have been as squeaky clean as mine. But, that was the attraction. He welcomed me into his salacious world of sex, drugs, crime and money. We partied with friends until the wee hours. I was privy to his lifestyle and he was all the more eager to share it with me.
We grew apart for a moment when I entered college. I’d simply become an adult. I still liked to party. Every now and then, he’d drop by, spend the night, help me study, put me to sleep. I changed but my attraction to him remained. He could woo any woman.
After a while, he changed too. It was almost right before my eyes. He started to take an interest in some of the things that I liked; activism, empowerment, and community awareness. I’d like to say it was a matter of common sense or maybe, we already had these things in common, after all. He knew that if he was going to stay with me, he’d have to evolve. We no longer ran in the same circles as we did years ago. No matter how much he altered his appearance or his environment, he would always be that street dude with grimy intensity and a gritty edge. He could provoke thought. He could move the masses with a mere rhythm and beat.
Hip hop, you’re the love of my life.
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