Dirty Little Secrets will be an ongoing series on the blog. I share my dirty little secrets, which are barely dirty and mostly not secret, and then you share your similar secrets in the comments. No judging, just lots of love. The kind of sharing that Grover taught us on Sesame Street. [Please note: if you did not learn how to share from Grover on Sesame Street, you are probably too young for this blog. Get your butt over here post-haste.]
At one point in my life, all I wanted to be was a video girl. You know, the love interest in a music video? Not like the current video vixens who hump the floor and make their booty clap. I’m not even talking the 80’s white girl video girls who were all Aqua Net, stilettos and fish-nets.
Nope, my video girl dreams were those of the early 90’s R&B boy bands. We’re talking very early 90’s, like Boyz II Men, Color Me Badd, All-4-One and other similar 3 word balladeers.
I would be dressed in a gauzy babydoll dress and cute flats, and there would be montages of me walking through parks and eating ice cream as a camera creepily followed me, watching my every move like a serial killer.
Then there’s be the requisite shot of me running in slow-motion as a I turned back and looked a the camera and laughed, my joy at life as evident as my stylish blazer with shoulder pads and epaulets.
All of these shots would be interspersed with shots of the various memebers of the band doing sensitive things.
Or writing a love poem.
Or staring at the camera and emoting.
And I would end up with the bass, because he was sexy and he had a cane.
And then there’s the Tevin Campbell video, where we’d start out in love in the beginning, but have silent fights through out as he’d sing how he needed me to “tell me what you want me to do.”
There’d be shots of old happy Alyssa/Tevin on a beach or at a carnival where he wins me a clown statue, and then they’d be inter-cut with shots of him and I arguing, silvery tears running down my face and him shaking his head in frustration. And then, in the course of our fight, the clown statue would be broken. And we’d stare at it in horror, the representation of our failing relationship.
And then at the end, as he dragged out one final melisma for 30 seconds, you’d see me walking out the door, leaving forever. But as the little white credits rolled in the corner and the last notes started to fade…and I’m getting in the taxi to drive off…you’d see Tevin suddenly run into the frame and grab my hand on the door handle.
And then we’d embrace. (Hug, not kiss. We were both like 15 at the time of this imagining…) And you know everything was going to be okay.
I would have been AWESOME.
‘fess up, moppets. What kind of video girl would you have been? (I am not the only one who has imagined this as a teen, DO NOT EVEN LIE.)