This is Me Having a Torrid and Tender Love Affair with Jack White's Voice.

Let's just call it JWV for short. Because that is truly in essence what I am talking about. That fucking voice. It makes me want to just take all my clothes off and dance in hedonistic rituals that culminate in wine and sex and blackberry cobbler. I can literally go from zero energy to crazed out of my mind with lust and delirium within just a few verses of the right song.

You can see why JWV is a dangerous venture on the way to work in the morning. However, today I am feeling particularly under the weather with a bit of illness I maybe postponed for a sunny weekend. It's been real downhill since Monday. So today, as I made my way in to work wearing (I'm not kidding) scrub pants and an old t-shirt from a restaurant I once worked at (complete with a hoodie for that definitive I'm sick at work look), I thought I was pretty justified in picking JWV to partake in on my way. (Seriously, it's like morning drug usage.) And that's when it occurred to me I wanted gentle Jack.

I remember when The Raconteurs came out with their first single—or at least their first big one—and I thought it was the White Stripes. Driving to work this morning, feeling JWV pulse reassuringly through me, buying myself just a bit of time to sit here and dream before I return to earth and get to work and back to feeling bad, I have no idea how I might have mistaken them for the same band. Yes, it's still my JWV...but he's a different type of lover with the Raconteurs.

See Stripes JWV is darkly sexy. Hiding something beneath his words that you can't quite tune into because you're too mesmerized by his aggressive way of grabbing hold of your attention. Sure, some songs are sweeter...every bad boy has some soft sides...but for the most part Stripes JWV is just demanding sex where you get taken along for a ride and you're lucky if he lets you pause to catch your breath before engulfing you in another lyrical lashing of lust. You just have to trust for all the fire he won't let you burn.

But maybe that's just me.

But Raconteurs JWV? That's another kind of lover entirely. He's still strong, but in a way that soothes your every fear before taking you confidently by the hand and leading you into some secret shared. He's blankets on the grass and staying out past your bedtime because you can't stop talking and kissing and kissing and talking until there are words in mouths and tongues in conversations. He lets you lie against him after making love before taking you again because he knows you could just inhale him all day. Raconteurs JWV is as reassuring and endlessly pleasing as your favorite poem—the one you enjoy best away from the eyes of others.

Once again. I have a tendency toward getting caught up in the sound of a song.

But...really...truly—I love them both. JWV may in fact be the world's most perfect lover—able to show that range of attention to my various needs. Whether it is the real stripper stripping I only do at home and never for a crowd (just the audience in my head). Or a day I'm forced to go to work sick and I really wish I had someone to pet my head and massage my aching neck. Whatever the call of duty, JWV gets it done. And I find that versatility to be ecstatically irresistible. I tend to be a greedy, little girl and I just want it all.

I'm glad JWV can give it to me so good.

(A note: Although I am not opposed to Dead Weather JWV, I'm really still getting to know him. It's too soon to label our interactions. It takes me the longest to really love music. But once I decide to, I really, really do.)