The year was 2007 and every L.A. scene-ster girl with a scarf around her neck and sangria in her hand had a crush on Miguel. He was about a foot shorter than the lot of us, and just by eyeballing his weight versus any one of ours, we knew we could take him in a fight. Never you mind that he had a super hot girlfriend and couldn’t be bothered to care less about any other woman in the room. Miguel was still the sexiest woopdie-doo that side of the Mississip.
What made him so fine was “Sure Thing.” Our West Coast secret smash.
We were the cigarette, and he was the smoker. It was as plain as that. His hazy tone told us that he wanted to put it to every woman with the slow finality of igniting and inhaling a Marlboro.
But the frequency with which I hear Miguel’s “Sure Thing” on the radio now, I feel like he’s hoeing all us O.G. ladies out. It’s like finding out your date was wining and dining a whole country full of waffle-bottom skeezers the same night, whispering in their ear the same “you be the chalkboard, I could be the chalk” bull he was crooning to you hours earlier. He’s all “paper baby, I’ll be the pen.” To the whole nation. Ugh. On behalf of all us original Do Over lay-tees, Miguel, let me just say, I’m hurt. And proud. Congratulations… you deserve it.