Ah Beyonce, I do not mean to pick on you my dear, for you are only singing a song that was most likely written by other hands, but you have crystallized something so clearly, that I could not resist.
“You must not know about me
You must not know about me
I could have another you in a minute
matter fact he’ll be here in a minute – baby”
Another you, In a minute.
I remember, in grade school, the fire marshalls would come in and speak to us of fire safety, and they would drill us, and explain techniques for us to use when there was heavy smoke, or if we went on fire, stop, drop and roll!
But the one thing I remember most of all, was when they asked us what we should take with us when a fire broke out. Some answered toys, some their pets, I said perhaps my favorite book lying on the nightstand.
Wrong. All wrong.
They explained, as much as those things might seem important, nothing was as important as us getting out, because mommy and daddy could always buy a new toy, or book, or even a new kyle the kitty if need be. But the one thing they could never buy, was a new you. You could not be replaced, ever. A wave of realization swept over our class as we looked around, momentarily of one mind. Nothing we had, could ever mean as much as we could.
“I can have another you by tomorrow
So don’t you ever for a second get to thinking you’re irreplaceable”
So, let us fast forward a decade or so, and look at the current state of committed relationships. I think, should the fire marshalls be called in again, we would find the modern woman carrying out stacks of shoes, several dresses, and perhaps that fine set of china aunt hilda gave them as a wedding gift. Meanwhile, being very careful to not trip over the prone body of her poor unconcious husband/boyfriend/fiance, as she balanced the precious valuables on her way out the emergency exit.
Perhaps I am being a bit cynical here, and mayhaps a tad bitter once again. I could be wrong, it could just be that she is speaking about a certain type of male. Maybe she references the thugged out, pseudo-suave characters that her fanbase enjoys dating and marrying. The unfolding brim hat wearing, stocking underneath, baggy clothed, spinning neck chain, boo-tay loving, love professing, cat-calling, “ma” loving, multiple baby momma types. Yes, that could be it.
Or perhaps not.
“So since I’m not your everything
How about I’ll be nothing
Nothing at all to you
Baby I wont shead a tear for you
I won’t lose a wink of sleep
Cause the truth of the matter is
Replacing you is so easy”
It seems that the fictional “dog” of the song was rolling a different girl around in the “whip”. Oh yes, this is certainly despicable behavior, but based on that last sentiment, I would have to say that homeslice did himself a favor. Dropping someone so quickly basically means that they probably did not mean all that much to you in the first place. You can argue moving on until you are blue in the face, but quite simply, if you truly cared for someone, even if they hurt you so badly, it would be a bitch to lose them.
But this is the modern attitude. People have become accessories. Like gucci bags and blinged out earrings. You are only as desirable as the next style dictates. Perseverance is a thing of the past. You get difficult, make a mistake, or do anything that may be construed as less than desirable, and the answer becomes very simple for todays Beyonce loving modern woman, “to the left, to the left”. It may just be a foolish song, but art is often a reflection of society, and in this case, I feel it hits the bullseye.
Commitment goes only as far as is convenient.
Why am I picking only on the women here? Aren’t guys guilty of the same nonsense?
Of course they are! But since I have a penis, I find myself a bit partial to the male side of things.
“Everything you own in a box to the left.”
Save yourselves the trouble gentlemen, don’t fucking unpack.
Thank you and goodnight.