Let's Just Call Her "Wifey"

I remember in high school before there was Facebook and even MySpace, yes I'm young enough and old enough to remember this period. We had our own e-mail system where you could create a profile you could list your hobbies, facts about you, and often people would list things such as their favorite song lyrics.

Then there came a point where there was too much freedom of speech that the only people who could see your profile was you. This didn't stop us from fixating on defining, identifying,a nd categorizing ourselves. It certainly didn't stop us from having a favorite song for the moment.

Senior year there was Next's (ya'll remember that group okay or maybe lead singer R.L. because of his duet with Deborah Cox, "We Can't Be Friends" or his appearance on "The Best Man" soundtrack). Anywho they had this song "Wifey". In high school the "wifey" whom I adopted was Rochelle. She was a tall, caramel skinned, Jamaican-American (Jamerican), and like all the prep school kids was a talented scholar athlete. Now thinking about it I know exactly what made Roch special. She was tall and graceful like a gazelle, smart as a fox, and managed to glide through any worlds well liked and well received.

In college the new "wifey" and I didn't really connect till senior year. We had our pseudo date and the rest is history. We're thousands of miles apart, at different places in very different spaces, yet she's become a confidant.

In the months since graduation I've made a few fumbles, glaring mistakes I've really revealed to no one, but there may come a point where if it were needed, "wifey" would know the secrets. Not even the best friends know what's up.

There's something about her. She's a lot like Roch tall, caramel complected, graceful like a gazelle, smart as a fox, charming, kind, generous, loving, caring, available, and most of all encouraging. We're worlds away and she's a calming influence. She wrote me today that she knows it's a tad stressful not feeling like I'm reaching my full potential, feeling a bit unfulfilled. She wrote of her knowledge of my great aspirations. There's something about her that even over time, and distance allows her to be a calming influence.

She's even made me come to the point, inevitable as it may be given my youth, my inexperience, and dare I say foolishness. Come to the point where I won't reconsider the pledge not to have children, but atleast that pledge not to get married.

In my head echoes words which make her my muse. There's something about the way she smiles and her eyes become little slits. There's something about that accent especially when she tells stories about her little bro and uses the word "fierce." There's something about the way she says, "C. Nel I feel like you're judging me." And there's this urge I have to shu it down, to offer her a clean slate, with no preconceived notions, with no hidden bypasses, just a clean slate.

No, I don't have a real "wifey" just yet, just a confidant, and a new muse.

She's definitely the thoughts behind that short story I need to start working on to get my creative juices flowing once more.