Make Me A Believer

It's dark and quiet except for the sound of the rain and the faint flicker of candlelight off in the distance. And there I am, sitting on the plushest faux velvet pit group with the finest man in the universe. We're making out. And as we're contemplating the many ways that we're going to make each others toes curl, the stereo clicks on. And in perfect pitch he croons along with Luther Vandross with sweet whispers in my ear, lips close enough to my neck to make me tingle, "I wanna love wanna have wanna hold you girl, so make me a believer." Mmmph, mmmph, mmmph. Is there any better way to spend a rainy evening?
Of course none of this ever happened. There was never a rainy evening that found me making out to Luther Vandross's Make Me A believer. There was a faux velvet pit group, but it wasn't mine and I wasn't on it making out with the finest man in the universe. And for those who don't recall what a pit group is, it is a large 3 piece couch. The one that I'm referring to belonged to my uncle. My cousin and I use to spend the weekends sitting there listening to good old music, mostly love songs and fantasizing what it would be like to be grown and having the man of our dreams sing those words to us.
We imagined dressing up and going out on dates and having boyfriends that would make us feel like we felt when we heard the lyrics to those really great old songs.
And though I was only in Junior high school and I wasn't sexually active, I was almost positive that when the time came that I would be able to blow a man's mind. After all, I had read enough of my mother's Essence and Cosmopolitan magazine articles.
I have to shake my head when I think back on my old, idealistic views on sex, love and relationships and how the men in my past have chipped away at it over the years. And even though I have had my share of disappointments I treasure all of the memories and I am thankful for all of that good old music that kept my imagination going, fed my curiosity and contributes to my writing today.