Lenny Kravitz has been on my mind lately. Not just any version of Lenny Kravitz, the version of him with a fishnet shirt. His head tilted back. His ripped muscles going down, down, down… His hair long and braided. Or short. Or shaved. Or a scarf wrapped around his head, my point here being that his hair doesn’t matter too much. His arms, his neck. His thick neck. His little thicket of chest hair popping against his fishnet. Whew. Imma need a second.
Here’s the thing, Lenny is sexy as hell even at (gasp!) fifty-five years old. Lenny is fifty-five, Missy?! You shut your heathen mouth, no he isn’t. Lenny is only twenty-five, and he has the chest of a God and the calf muscles of an actual baby calf. Uh, no y’all. He is fifty-five and guess what?! No one gives a shit cause he fly as hell. Also, stop giving a shit how old someone is. Age really is irrelevant, you ageists! Look at you! Stop it! People are wonderful and magnificent at any age, and if you give someone a chance they may surprise you. I have several friends who are older than me and they are awesome and amazing and they make my life better everyday.
I have a problem y’all. Lenny has always stirred me in the right direction. In fact, the night before our wedding I frantically made a list of my “passes” while Jerimiah assured me that yes, in fact, if Lenny Kravitz or Michelle Rodriguez or Vince Vaughn… Wait, Vince Vaughn? Okay, this one is harder to explain. I like people who make me laugh. Okay that wasn’t so hard. So yeah, if Lenny or Michelle or Vince ever approach me for sex, even after marriage, I could say yes with no guilt. But Lenny was on top of the list. Ohhh, Lenny on top. Hehehe.
And I get it, Lenny is happily married. And so am I, so that’s good. But listen, if Lenny were to waltz in the door right now, scoop me up into his arms (this is my fantasy not yours) and say, Baby, let’s rock well then, we’d rock. And roll. And tumble. And someone would get tied up. Bottom line: Bottom. Hehehe. Bottom line: Lenny Kravitz man. Lenny Kravitz.
That is all.