I have a delayed response to grief. It takes me a while to wrap me head around loss. While those around me are openly grieving, I maintain a lovely state of blissful denial until I am ready to deal with it. Maybe it is my defiant nature…maybe it’s my coping mechanism. Who knows?
It’s been almost two weeks since Prince died. If anyone should have taken bereavement leave, booked a plane ticket to Minnesota and sought counseling over his death…it should have been me. I have been a fan for most of my life. Let me correct that…I am more of a fanatic. His words spoke to me. I recall buying a copy of the album “1999” in 1983, at the tender age of eleven…which was before those PMRC bastards labeled everything. I was hooked to his sound. I was entranced by his lyrics. I saved my babysitting allowance and bought every album he’d recorded before. I immersed myself in Prince. But I was careful not to let my parents hear the bad stuff…you know…those explicit lyrics that hypnotized me and led me down a path of enlightenment and tawdry deeds.
Here are a few times in my life, where Prince was there with me.
I lost my virginity while a Prince song played in the background. July 1985. On a dirt road, in the backseat of a Monte Carlo. The song was, “DMSR” (Dance Music Sex Romance) and it was like an aural premonition of my escapades to come. Prince sang of the things I wanted to try. He fed my imagination…he inspired my carnal wanderlust. I tapped into the primal side of my being as The Purple One had explicitly given me permission to be the beast I wanted to be. And I am forever grateful.
I channeled my inner stripper with Prince’s music. After my stellar Superbowl party debut, I gained major confidence. If I were performing for a current flame, or for him and a group of his closest friends, Prince was a go-to. I loved dancing to “Erotic City” and closing the set out with “Scandalous.” No one compared to him. His words put me in a head space that allowed me to express myself in a most uninhibited way. To let go of societal restrictions and be the naughty girl I wanted to be.
I got engaged to a Prince song. I was in a relationship with a police officer for a couple of years. We enjoyed listening to Prince together (when we weren’t fighting) and when he decided to pop the question, he chose Prince’s “Diamond and Pearls” my least favorite song on that album. He was so nervous when he asked me. I think he would have been more content to just sing along with the song. But the ring was lovely. Needless to say, the relationship didn’t last. We went our separate ways and when he said I could keep the ring…I sold it and went on a shopping spree, treating myself to a few fabulous outfits in hopes of snagging the next unsuspecting gent.
Looking back, Prince was there for it all. The good. The bad. The naughty. He was like a little purple devil on my left shoulder, egging me on, whispering breathy lustful desires into my ear. Prince inspired my hedonistic side. In many ways, he is directly responsible for who I became. Prince gave me confidence. Prince gave me permission. Prince dismissed any of my insecurities, and summoned the vixen within.
I am often asked which song I like most. Which album? This is an impossible question for such an obsessed fan..but here is my answer. I was introduced to Prince with the album, “1999” and that will always be my favorite for that reason. As for my favorite song? That’s a story in itself. I first heard the song “Adore” while working (and playing) at the radio station. The song is a raw profession of adoration for his One. I recall hoping that one day, if I was lucky, I would find the One…the person who made me feel the lyrics of that song. And it took a long time, but finally…I have my One. The One worthy of all I am. The One who owns my heart…who owns my mind. I truly adore him.
And Prince is right, “Love is too weak to define just what (he) means to me”
Until the end of time, Prince. RIP, you sexy motherfucker.