I have exactly one celebrity friend. Don’t get me wrong; after covering stars of some sort or another for 23 years, I’m chummy with a handful more. I think Beyoncé may even remember my name. OK, my face.
But friend? As in you not only know my name but also know how to spell it, know my birthday, my family, my passions? Only one. And he’s a he.
It just so happens that we did not become friends as adults living this hectic, surreal life of making (him) and critiquing (me) pop culture. Actually, we were kids together. High school loves a million trillion moons ago. And although we have seasons when we speak daily and seasons when we miss entire seasons, what I think about most whenever I consider what my boy truly means to me is the way his brilliance has a way of rubbing off on you—and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Read more in the October 2015 issue of EBONY Magazine.