I have a confession to make. It’s not one that I’m ashamed of, and it’s not an April Fools’ joke.
I love Justin Bieber.
I’ll give everyone a moment to get the eye rolls, groans and scoffs out of your system. Good? OK, now let me explain.
As a 22-year-old, job-searching, graduate-impending, self-proclaimed adult, I’ve been under the impression for quite a while that my years of obsessing over teenage pop stars were long gone.
But then I heard “One More Time” on the radio. Then “Baby.” I saw the 3-year-old girl crying over how much she loved him on YouTube, and I felt her pain. I began religiously following his tweets. I was sick with Bieber fever. I became obsessed with his catchy beats and bubblegum lyrics. I found myself willing to overlook the fact that his music videos play like footage from my bat mitzvah.
If you’re still rolling your eyes, consider this: I’m not the only one backing Bieber. Usher signed him to a recording contract, Ludacris raps on “Baby” (his first Top 10 single) and his new duet with Sean Kingston, “Eeenie Meenie,” is racing up the charts. His newest album, is sitting prettily in the No. 1 spot on iTunes’ top albums. This weekend from the Kids’ Choice Awards, Katy Perry tweeted a photo of her kissing him on the cheek. Clearly, I’m not alone in my fervor.
I know there are others of you out there, ashamed to admit your unparalleled adoration. Turn that iPod volume higher, roll your car windows down and let the world know that you’re ready to be one less lonely girl.
