For some reason tonight I grabbed a record I've not listened to in forever - Syreeta Wright's debut self-titled record. They don't write about love like they used to. Now, Destiny's Child sing about 'catering' for their men and Lady Gaga poisons hers in a video clip and throws him off a balcony. I am as guilty as the next woman for disregarding simple declarations of adoration as naff and old fashioned, but then simultaneously lamenting the death of chivalry and romance.
Listening to Syreeta tonight, I've decided to make more time for unabashed, uncomplicated and unrehearsed love in my life. Hey you, I love every little thing about you. Deal with it.
There's nothing cheesy about that if it's honest.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
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