The Voice

I was listening to my iPod today, and a recurrent thought popped into my head:  "When I grow up, I want to be a black male soul singer."  Totally.  I want to be Sam Cooke, Otis Redding or Solomon Burke.  Yes, I realize they are all dead and I am a white woman, but if I had my choice, I would be them in their heyday.  Two of my most favorite songs ever are Otis Redding's "These Arms of Mine" and Solomon Burke's "Cry to Me."  They are the quintessential "make-a-chick-melt" songs.  (Baby in Johnny's room in "Dirty Dancing," anyone?)  I can only imgine how inoxicating that kind of hold would be.  Voices that can sing like that are the sexiest thing in the world to me.  Look at Barry White.  He was one UGLY mofo, but he had more women that one man could reasonably handle.  Why?  His voice.  Hearing him say "Hey Baby" was probably akin to a roofie in your drink exept you liked it and remembered everything.  I daresay that if every lingerie store only played music like that, more women would buy more stuff while they were in there.  A man's voice like that just makes a woman FEEL it into her toes.  She'll walk differently, smile differently and probably spend more money.


One of the things that initially drew me to my boyfriend is his voice.  I absolutely love it.  Half the time I have no idea what he's saying; I've stopped registering words and am just listening to the sound.  He could be telling me that he hates what I made for dinner, that he just got a tattoo of a car on his ass or that he's actually a Russian spy and I would have no idea what he just told me.  I just smile like I have a clue.  Good thing he's patient.