i’ve always been annoyed to the point of anger by mya and jay-z’s “best of me” (possibly the most forgettable uber-popular rap male/r&b female “no, really: are they f*cking or not?” collabo song in an era –1998 to 2002– defined by uber-popular yet ultimately forgettable rap male/r&b female “no, really: are they f*cking or not?” collaborations) for two completely unrelated reasons:
1. the original jadakiss version of this song is much, much, much, much better. seriously, the jadakiss version is the waffle house to the jay-z remix’s wendy’s breakfast, and it saddens me and the ghost of lil kim’s fourth face to know that there are people who don’t even know this track exists
2. jay-z’s “have an affair/act like an adult for once“ line in his second verse
you see, i’ve always taken umbrage to jiggas suggestion that my insistence on fidelity is basically just a product of immaturity. who was he to tell me that every grown man had a mistress, and that my unscrupulous friends and teammates were more mature than my self-righteous ass?
sometimes i’d even scream “i’m grown too, maricon¹ muthaf*cker” at the tv whenever this wretched video came on, before getting too distracted by mya’s myaness to even continue to care.
it wasn’t until sometime earlier this year that the realization hit me like a bag of dicks²:
every man does in fact have a mistress…including me
sometimes its an ex-girlfriend we’ve kept in contact with because we know she’s always only one word from go. sometimes its a co-worker we share so many inside jokes and lunch runs with that we almost don’t mind it when the chili’s waitress assumes we’re not splitting the check. sometimes its the cute barista at our favorite starbucks you always exchange “i’m probably a bit happier to see you than i should be” smiles with. and sometimes, well. sometimes that mistress might just be our mom
you see, regards of status or station, every man has at least one source of validation in his life outside of his significant other that reminds him of how attractive, funny, and unique he is; a perpetual legitimizer we (usually) have no real interest in sleeping with that thinks we’re the shit, laughs at each of our corny jokes, and doesn’t remind us that we’ve told them that story three times already.
in theory, we should get this validation from our real relationships. and, in theory, we actually do. girlfriends and wives are the shit (mostly).
but, although knowing that your significant other still finds you (somewhat) attractive is all that counts, its not all that matters. the need to know that we’re still interesting and desirable to others dissipates but never disappears. and, what separates us from women is the fact that while (most) women can’t walk a block and a half without someone letting them know they’re still desirable in someway, (most) men don’t have this same luxury.
this is where the mistress steps in, providing a breezy recess session for our psyches; an admittedly superficial reminder of who we think we are when we look in the mirror after our morning push-ups puff our chests.
in fact, in a couple of weeks, my dearest mistress and i will celebrate our two year anniversary. although we never have or ever will sleep together, we’ve grown closer and closer with each passing day. and, just like every other mans own personal mistress, she completes me in a way no mere girlfriend or wife ever could. i always know that when i’m weighted down with a typical days mind-numbling minutae, i can simply log on to vsb and see, well, somebody out there still thinks i’m cool, smart, and funny.
moral of the story? jigga was right: we’re all hypocrites…but our mistresses don’t care.
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