A Moment of Clarity

Alicia is a good friend and a gorgeous woman. Beautiful. Good character. Total wifey type. I've always thought she was amazing--inside and out. We attended a black-tie hip-hop affair for Kanye West's 30th birthday recently and she was wearing a gold BCBG cocktail dress that accentuated the best of her curvy size 6 frame. Her make-up was perfection, highlighting her high cheekbones, tanned complexion and her radiant smile to their fullest potential. In short, she was glowing.

"Wow," I thought as she sauntered up the steps to the second floor of the Louis Vuitton store on 5th Avenue to meet me and Penelope. "She looks amazing! One of the most beautiful women in this room." And that's saying something too, because there was a good thousand+ people present. Some extraordinarily fine 6-foot creature told her she looked like a Senator's wife, like she belonged on the arm of presidential hopeful Barak Obama. (*sigh* What a line... And why didn't she get his number?)

Her SO (def: significant other, not really her man, not really not her man, not really her friend.) stopped by to greet her as we peered over a ledge watching John Legend perform. I gave a smug hello and paid little attention to him. I've always had mixed feelings about their relationship. The 30+man's been promising Alicia for years that he's working on being better for her and that he's taking his slow time making any sort of commitment because he's growing and it's a long process. Whatever the hell that means. He hung out for a quick two minutes, took some pics of us, then went to work the room. I was glad when he left.

 

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