“We Belong Together” was a colossal song. It was breaking chart and airplay records all over the United States and internationally. It became my sixteenth number-one record on the Billboard Hot 100 (also making me the first woman artist to concurrently hold the number-one and number-two spots, with “Shake It Off”). It ended up staying in a top-ten position for twenty-three weeks and charted for forty-three weeks total. It tied for the third-longest-running number-one song in US chart history (behind “One Sweet Day,” Billboard ’s most popular song of the nineties). Billboard named “We Belong Together” song of the decade (song of the what?) for the 2000s, and the ninth most popular song of all time.
It won two Grammys, two Soul Train Awards, and Song of the Year at the ASCAP Awards and BMI Awards (among others). It even won a Teen Choice Award—the Choice Love Song award. I didn’t know Nick was set to present the award to me (apparently he insisted to the Teen Choice producers). The show was loud, bright, and zany—the award is a surfboard. I recall first seeing Nick and taking in his curious oversized nautical-inspired ensemble, consisting of giant white shorts, a big ocean-blue polo shirt, a lemon-yellow sweater tied around his neck, ankle socks, and sneakers. After he presented me with my board-award, I said, “I heard about all the nice things you’ve been saying about me.” With a genuine beaming smile and a flame in his eyes, he replied, “If you give me a chance, I’ll prove all of it is true.”
A cute moment—very.
More time passed, and Brat wouldn’t let up, insistent that Nick and I really connect. We began talking on the phone, almost daily. Then, finally, we did get together, and it was irresistibly fun. And at the time, I was all about having fun. I wasn’t ready to be grown-up again. I had had to be so grown so fast, professionally and especially in my first marriage. (Marrying was something I vowed never to do again.)
I missed out on so much as a teen, and Nick, who had a perpetual teen spirit, was charmingly refreshing. He also felt safe to me. Look, I was hanging out with Dipset in this era, and while it was a blast, the element of legitimate danger was ever present, okay? Besides, no matter how famous or fine, no matter how well they could rhyme, I held a strict “no rappers” rule. I was very serious about protecting myself from being labeled “that girl.” It was critical to me to maintain, most importantly, my self-respect, but also my professional respect from the tight boys’ club of artists, producers, and management I collaborated with. I worked with some of the greatest (and some unknown at the time) hip-hop artists of all time. I didn’t ever want things to get reality-show messy up in the studio. And the “rap packs” will talk amongst themselves (c’mon; they talk for a living!).
It was bad enough there were already a plethora of ridiculous rumors about me sleeping with rappers anyway. If you’re not careful, all your business could be all up in somebody’s bars (“cause they all up in my business like a Wendy interview”). After Wendy Williams went on a tangent about me on the radio, the New York Post picked up the story and I woke up to the headline “Sexcapades,” with my photo underneath. They called me, JD, Q-Tip, and some of my creative collaborators the “Hard Partying Rap Posse”—I can’t. I was not going to give the mill actual fodder. What mattered was that I knew what the truth was, and I was committed to holding to it.
But I regarded Nick as a producer, comedian, and actor—I had no idea he had real rapper aspirations. He laughed a lot, and he made me laugh. We made each other laugh a lot. We talked about life and music. I just wanted to be around him. Once, I even left a date with a very handsome and legendary basketball player to ride in the car with Nick so he could be the first to listen to my newest album, E=MC2. I was excited about it, and I wanted to listen to it with him.
During this time I was finally pulling my whole self together. I’d already gone through a spiritual cleansing, getting baptized and continuing my therapy. Now I was focusing on my physical self as well. I was working intensely with an amazing trainer, Patricia. The first single for the new album was “Touch My Body,” so I had to get “fit in the body” in preparation.
I was feeling stronger, and I hadn’t felt good about myself in a while. We were going to cast my new friend Nick in the “Touch My Body” video, since he was a comedian and we were taking a humorous twist with it. (I mean, c’mon, what other direction could I go with a lyric like, “’Cause if you run your mouth / And brag about this secret rendezvous / I will hunt you down”? Otherwise, it would’ve been a stalker movie.) But the role in the video was for a computer geek, and while Nick was really funny, he wasn’t a convincing geek. Jack McBrayer, however, was a genius pick, and we had the absolute best time making the video.
Thanks to my fans, who really got behind the song, knowing how significant it would be, “Touch My Body” became my eighteenth number-one single. I’m forever grateful to the family of Lambs. I’m also grateful for everybody at the record label
