I get it.
I should be ashamed of my love for “the Biebs,” my pet name for Justin Bieber. I’m almost 30. But I’m not at all embarrassed of my love for him.
In fact, going through the Starbucks drive-thru a couple days back, I had Bieber’s “Believe” blaring in my car as I rolled up to the window. While the barista handed me my latte, I asked her if she had yet to hear the new Bieber. She replied, “I don’t know if you’re joking or serious right now.”
I was entirely serious and I told her so. “You need to get on that, it’ll change your life and make you oh so happy.” The girls laughed. At the very least, I made them happy but I attribute it to Bieber’s voice making me happy and in turn, happiness spreading like wildfire.
I fell in love with him after the whole Bieber Fever phenomenon. Like most people, I heard “Baby” and thought it was catchy but I seriously thought I was listening to a little girl. Even after seeing him on “Ellen” I thought he was a female. His side swept hair and lithe, lanky frame confused me.
It was a long-distance phone call with a longtime girlfriend that ignited my love for the Biebs. She confessed catching Bieber Fever however reluctantly and we giggled like schoolgirls over the phone about how adorable and talented he is. I proceeded to YouTube all his videos and fall in love with the boy I’d come to call the Biebs.
I’d blast his “MyWorld 2.0” album in my apartment and dance like a tool, while my puppy scrambled to get out of my feet’s way.
When the film “Never say Never” (a biopic-concert film about Justin) came out, I had to see it. However, finding someone suitable to go with was a problem. I tried to coerce my cousin to go with me; we could bring her four-year-old daughter Juliana as our decoy I pleaded. That didn’t pan out. Eventually, it would be my 50-year-old aunt that would entertain my need to see the Biebs.
I cried when I watched it. I loved him so much more seeing his history cut and edited on YouTube. His sense of rhythm displayed at such an early age drumming on a chair; his busking on the streets of Stratford, ON; grinding on his guitar for his YouTube fans; all of it culminating in the pop star that he is today selling out Madison Square Garden. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. I cried out of sheer joy.
There was no denying my love for him any longer. “Go see ‘Never say Never,’” became my mantra. I’d tell strangers.
To this day, when people say they don’t like Bieber or don’t understand why I love him, I tell them – go see “Never Say Never, then come talk to me.”
Which brings us to now. I hate to brag but I have tickets for the Oct. 12 concert at Scotiabank Saddledome. That’s right!
I joined the Bieber fan club to get pre-sale tickets.
My colleagues looked at me in disgust as I squealed while signing onto the BieberFever.com website. I debated aloud whether to get the $26.97US quarterly membership or not. The thought of being at his concert was enough to hand my credit card over to “the cloud.”
In addition to getting pre-sale tickets, I also get “the incredibly #swag JB purple flat brim, flex fit hat, plus a Bieber Fever membership card!” So says the website.
I have yet to get my hat. But yes. I have tickets and well, when “the Hollywood Reporter” reports that Justin’s whole U.S. tour sold out in an hour and CBC reports the Calgary show sold out in minutes, I have the right to brag.
So there you have it haters, I got tickets. And I’m not upselling them on Kijjii for a profit. Nope, instead, I will hopefully have my hat and my happiness to share with all the other girls – old and young – who love the Biebs.