Oh, Kanye…


Dear Kanye West,

There’s nothing women enjoy more than seeing a man honestly in love, especially one of your caliber. A music man with business savvy and no filter. Sure, what you say gets you in trouble majority of the time, but we pardon that once we see how smitten you are and hear the quality rap you unleash into the world.

But it seems like your most recent relationship/fling/publicity stunt has had us concerned. Sure, you’re a fella who knows what he wants and gets it. You want to stunt with Hov on a collaboration compilation? You did it. You want to design a line dedicated to your mother (which we loved!) and showcase it in Europe? You did it. You want to be linked with a woman who hasn’t solidified her divorce papers to an NBA player? You did it…but why?!

Remember in 2006 when you proposed to your then-beau Alexis Phifer? She was your woman for six years, a female you saw potential in and got on one knee to propose to. Her preference for anonymity kept you grounded. Your egotistical lashouts were kept to a minimum or maybe even behind-the-scenes. She allowed your music to talk for you, even when your jaw was wired shut while working on your debut The College Dropout.

Then you began to run the town with a video vixen by the name of Amber Rose, a point where you let your sanity run unbridled. You began to embody the spirit of the rapper’s lifestyle, showing up to the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards with a bottle and a bodacious boo. You felt these “assets” were enough reason to bum rush the stage and interrupt Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech for “Best Video of the Year.” You championed for Beyoncé, your little sis by association, and we admire that, but the awareness for your surroundings suddenly disappeared. You just didn’t care about the image your words and actions outside of music portrayed to the world that loved you.

Fast forward to now and your heartbreak has led you to create amazing audible art in the forms of 808s & Heartbreak and My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. You had your fans torn between praising the musician responsible for such work and the asshole who really didn’t care what we thought. However, you still cared about Amber, who by this time had found love in the arms of another buzzing rapper who worshipped the ground she walked on. All that was left was you…and the music.