Too Close by Next

I know you’ve been waiting for this one.

I currently have my headphones on at my favorite coffee shop in Greensboro.

God— I’ve missed GSO. My auntie Bev is here. This woman saved my life. A lot of my favorite parts about myself are here in this city.

How do we do this? Should we dive right in or should I….? Warm you up.

I wonder if she could tell, I’m hard right now

Let’s start with two years ago— when I reconnected with an old flame.

I was shocked, but not really.

His mother came to my mother’s funeral.

It was the first time I had met her, but he and I have history. We’ve known each other since I was 14– he 17– and our sisters were friends.

His mom loved my sister because she worked for her at the bowling alley and my sister used to be incredibly outgoing and didn’t back down from a fight if someone said one cross word. She made a great bartender in her early 20s.

We were always a “will they, won’t they” situation.

Our closest friends knew the chemistry between us, but we were on our own paths. I usually wasn’t on his radar romantically due to social politics, so it made sense until we were in the same room.

He didn’t attend the funeral, but his mom coming to the funeral wasn’t solely for consideration of my sister being her ex-employee. She felt curiosity for me.

My sister had spent more time with him and his family in person than I ever did, so talks about me were always around.

My sister was my informant— she knew how I felt about him.

I immediately sent my sister a cheeky text after I’d gotten back home (Greensboro at the time) — “sounds like condolences are in order 😌”

He had just friended me on Facebook a few days after the funeral.

Condolences were indeed in order.

We reconnected in person over the 4th of July weekend.

Baby, when we’re grinding

I get so excited

We couldn’t help ourselves.

8 years had passed and it felt like none had passed.

We were teenagers again without the social politics at play and we were allowed to ogle at each other.

We grabbed drinks at a very cool spot on the east side of Nashville. I picked the spot— I knew the vibe I wanted.

I went to bathroom after one Paloma — gave skinny, freshly divorced, definitely grieving, pale-faced Cara a pep talk in the mirror.

“We know where this is going. You still got it. Momma’s still got it.”

Wink in the mirror. Make sure my skirt is straight. Make sure my feet are walking one foot in front of the other appropriately in wedges.

I walk back toward him as he was paying the bill. We finished our drinks and then he asked — “wanna have a few beers at my place and finish catching up?”

We both knew the answer.

Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can’t fight it

There’s a key element to this connection.

Music. He’s the only one in my life who got it the way I did.

He felt it the way I did.

In high school and at parties— we used to subtweet each other music lyrics and take turns DJing the music when a substance was being puff puff and passed on in a circle.

We’d know what mood we were in given our selections. I could tell if he was fighting with his then girlfriend. He could tell if my boyfriend and living situation was shitty.

He could tell when I was reaching for connection from him — trying to gauge if he felt what I felt too.

If that interaction we’d had across the room with our eyes was real.

He’d confirm my suspicions and reciprocate my bids with songs.

A coded language we had learn to master.

There was a common thread in our taste — 90s and early 2000s R&B — a gift given to us by our older siblings.

We were dancing real close— energetically.

Oh, you’re dancing real close
Plus it’s real, real slow (you know what you’re doing, don’t you)
You’re making it hard for me

We got to his apartment and I drilled him about his ex girlfriend. The timeline of our exchanges. About the girls he chased after instead of me.

I wasn’t judgmental, but I had gone 8 years without answers to these questions.

He put on “You” by Lloyd — handed me a beer and talked to me across the island and then moved to the chair next to me.

He answered all my questions.

We chatted about where we were now in our lives — we had both freshly stepped out of our unhealthy long term commitments.

A connection like this is difficult to describe because no big exchanges word wise need to take place. Wherever the connection would go — we both unspokenly understood — that it was only for the benefit of each of our individual life journeys and healing.

An emotional handshake was exchanged.

We both had been hurt by the people we deeply loved in our lives. There is a loyalty bond we feel for each other— neither of us would intentionally cause more hurt. We’d communicate whatever and however we could—no matter how messy it rolled out of our mouths.

The love — unspoken and spoken. It’s mutual.

He sees me in a way that makes my walls drop and soften. I can laugh a lot more. I can be as loud and as confident as I want. I can dance like no one is watching. I can say the embarrassing things and feel like I’m desirable. I can fully embody all of my sensuality and feel the confidence knowing no one can access that part of me except for one — whoever that ends up being in my life.

I see him in a different way — he can tell me anything, I can put into words what he feels.

The respect we have for each other and wherever our own lives lead us is something that is deeply profound — I hope it finds me in every life time.

The soul level bond that is felt by each human placed on this earth — should we be lucky enough to experience it whether it be romantically or platonically (mostly romantically) is exactly what this genre of music captures.

All the slow songs you requested
You're dancing like you're naked
Oh, it's almost like we're sexing

A lot of people ask me often how I know ball — especially when it comes to R&B and Hip-Hop.

I could start with when I first listened to “Baby Boy” by Beyonce and Sean Paul or my take you back to when I heard “My Love Is Like…Wo” by Mya, but there are too many firsts.

Like the first time I really yearned over this boy that we are currently discussing — I was on a school bus on the way back home from an away football game. Night time. Cold. Bundled up in my DCHS Marching Band hoodie and my uniform bib. I got to sit by myself because my peers had made plans to sit toward the back of the bus. Once the lights shut off— a few of them planned to crawl under the seats to sit with their girlfriends in color guard at the time.

I was head to the rainy window — listening to “We Belong Together” by Mariah Carey.

Fast forward 10 years and the first time I ever got to make out with this exact boy I yearned for was now a man and I am on his lap making out on his couch to the same woman — different song — “Always Be My Baby.”

I love full circle moments.

I think I know ball because of my life experience — because it activates a part of me that deserves and wants to be seen. Because I shoot my shot with men who bring out sides of myself that I desire to embody more of. Because my first boyfriend in the 2nd grade was named Devontae and I had to defend his ethnicity to my mom in first grade words to protest why he’s allowed to be my boyfriend— “he’s not black, he’s brown.” Because I choose to learn how my ignorance still plays a part in systemic racism in a place of the US when black culture should be celebrated loudly and because I see the value in differences — Ginuwine pun fully intended.

Now girl I know you felt it
Boo, you know I can't help it
You know what I want to do

This weekend I reached out to this ex — it’s not a bit and equally I don’t see this connection ever taking shape or form again.

But guess what I learned by doing this?

I can still get excited at the thought of someone grinding up on me again and finding me desirable — the potentiality of me being willing to let someone see me in my rawest, messiest, most intimate form — human.

Full of soul.

Baby, when we’re grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, you know I like it
I try but I can’t fight it
Oh, you’re dancing real close
Plus it’s real, real slow
You’re making it hard for me

I heard this again last summer. A TikTok trend had started — “the #1 song on the day you were born is your theme song” — I did the trend.

The #1 hit in the US on my birthday was Too Close by Next. April 28, 1998.

I met a new friend over the internet. He liked my TikTok and texted me individually saying it took him back.

I started dancing to this song this past winter online because it reminded me of this particular friend and the confidence that I've always had, but blossomed during the time I was in connection with the ex.

I wanted to show this new person this side of me, but I feared leaning into it. Would he like this side of me? Did it matter? I loved this side of me but I knew that I was already projecting a lot of this fear into a new connection. It’s also why you’ll see me fully lean into part where I usually scream or want to hide when I lip sync “step back you’re dancing kinda close” — but I’ll always smirk, too, because deep down I do actually want to explore it— the new connection.

There’s authenticity in what I’m feeling in these lyrics being translated into how I express it through my silly ass dances.

I had a nudge to fully lean into this side of myself online. Channel my energy I felt uniquely from each of those connections into my own creativity and authenticity.

“Universe, why am I dancing on the internet like this?”

“Trust me.”

“My life is falling apart. I need money to fix the coffee cart. I need to pay my electric bill before it shuts off.”

“Trust this process.”

“This makes no sense. Why am I doing this?”

“Trust.”

1.9 million people saw my dance about the 7th time of me posting consistently — intuitively guided by my nudge.

I am now signed on with a talent agency— I have the best manager I could have asked for and I had three to choose from. Charlie Puth reposted the video, Tefi liked it. A few other big creators started following me from the video. I got a partnership with Dove Beauty.

“Too Close” put me on the map for the second time in my life in a different way digitally.

It established my authority as a new influencer on TikTok.

It really is my theme song.

I am forever grateful.

The song that started it all is finally getting the merch it deserves — shop the “Too Close” collection and wear the moment that changed everything following the steps here.

Substack subscribers get access to the merch line first before it is announced anywhere else on the internet.

Thank you for being here.