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Mos Smoov

You always hear people, women especially, talking about how personality can make someone more attractive than they actually are. If the mouthpiece is right, the funny is high, and the swag is on point? It can make a six an eight. Anything more than two points is pushing it though.

Mos men think we’re selling tickets when it comes to this theory. Mos men think we’re shallow. Mos of the time they’re right. But Mos Def is a perfect example of this anomaly.

There was always something about Mos that made me squint one eye, and tilt my head slightly. I remember waiting for the bus across the street from Amoeba records on Haight Street after an in-store performance of his, and him coming out by himself to smoke a cigarette (ew). He lit it up, took a puff, looked up, saw us, raised one hand, smiled, and gave us the head nod of all head nods. My vagina spit the entire first verse of Definition right then and there, “Lorrrrrrrdamerci.”

When he was featured as Alicia Key’s love interest in You Don’t Know My Name, it was confirmed; the man was smoov. Not smooth, that’s for amateurs. The man is smoov. Smoover than a baby’s bottom. Smoover than a bald head after an old school shave. My post-shower routine consists of me lightly patting myself dry, but not completely. Then slathering on some Neutrogena sesame oil all over, and letting that shit moisturize my soul while I walk around in just my bra and panties. Yeah, even smoover than that.

See, Mos ain’t the most good looking mufucka out there. But he’s the man that will get the job done. He’s the guy you send to the door girl after your handsome but tool of a friend fails to get you in past capacity. He’s the guy that will make an embarrassed apologetic face on behalf of his friend, compliment you on your scent – “Is that Dior’s Blue?” and then whisper some nag champa type shit in your ear that will not only get him and his crew in, but with bottle service as well. Child, you are good. Where my headwrap and cowrie necklace at? A part of me wants to make love to you in a tent during an Occupy Wall Street demonstration. Oh shit, did I just say I want to “make love?” Just kidding.

But I ain’t kidding when I say to never underestimate personality. Ya boy Yasiin got me over here writing an entire post about him – on a WEDNESDAY at that, and all I did was listen to Beauty in the Dark on the train this morning. If I met Mos in a crowded jazz club three drinks in, would I let him hit? Negative. But would I give him my number if he asked? Mos Definitely.

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