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Welcome to your leading online source for all things Justin Timberlake. Since 2003 we have brought fans the very best and will continue to do so!

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Rollingstone 2002

A month to  the day after the release of his solo album, Justified, which has sold more than 1 million  copies, and ten days after the debut of his  controversial ex-girlfriend-slamming “Cry Me a  River” video, Justin Timberlake rolls himself out  of bed inside the house where he grew up, near  Memphis; hobbles downstairs in his shorts, yawning  and bleary-eyed; greets his mom, Lynn Harless, who  has been busy cleaning; greets the family dogs,  Bearlie and Bella, who have been busy yapping;  looks outside at the woods in his back yard and  says, “Did I hear somebody say something about  food?”

He’s been home for three  weeks, recuperating from a broken foot that forced  him to cancel all Justified promo  activities. Last night he went to an Aerosmith  concert in town. A few days before that, he went  out on a date with a local girl, an astounding  thing for him. But, for the most part, he’s just  been vegging on the couch in the living room,  playing video games (Halo, usually), expanding his  stomach and letting his mom take good care of him.

“Here’s what I want,” he  says at last.

“A Philly cheese-steak  sandwich,” she says, already knowing.

“Yeah. And a salad. And  regular fries.”

Timberlake bends down to  mess with the dogs.

“The doggies are so glad  to have him home,” Harless says fondly. “They  miss him. Actually, this is the longest time he’s  been home since he left, when he was fifteen.”

Easing himself around the  couch, Timberlake takes a seat and says that he’s  feeling pretty good and relaxed, with his album  now out and its first two singles, “Like I Love  You” and “Cry Me a River,” mixing it up on the  charts. Recorded with hip-hop and R&B kingmakers  the Neptunes and Timbaland, Justified is  a collection of loose and swinging dance-floor  funk. At Timberlake’s insistence, much of it was  cut live in the studio, and its confident sound —  a combination of Seventies atmosphere and ’02  know-how, and about as far away from ‘NSync’s  kiddie pop as you can get — confirms his sharp  musical instincts.

“You know what?” he says.  “I turned on TRL the other day, and I’m the old  guy now. Avril Lavigne and B2K, they’re the new  little faces of teen pop, as much as they’d tell  you to fuck off if you told them that. As for me,  I’m somewhere in the middle, starting from zero,  rebuilding my whole base. This year has been all  about change. Big change. I ended a four-year  relationship. I bought a house in L.A. I embarked  on a solo career. And, on top of that, I did it  all in front of the world, without losing my head.  And now, for the past three weeks, I’ve been here,  away from the world. It’s been really good.”

Of course, it hasn’t been  all good. His performance at the MTV Video Music  Awards received a lot of flak, because he hit the  stage dressed like Michael Jackson — gloves,  cocked hat — and danced a lot like him, too. More  recently, on a New York radio station, he came out  and said he’d gone down on Britney Spears during  their time together, a crass admission that led to  much negative attention. Then there were all the  tabloid reports surrounding his alleged romantic  exploits with Janet Jackson, Christina Aguilera  and Alyssa Milano. And now there’s that new flap  over the “Cry Me a River” video.

Just for a second,  Timberlake thinks about sliding the video into the  VCR. It’s a peculiarly unsettling four minutes and  forty-eight seconds of psychodrama, about a guy  who gets even with his cheating girlfriend — a  Britney-look-alike girlfriend — by making it with  another woman, taping it and leaving the tape for  the girlfriend to see. The video is full of  Britney imagery — it’s got her trademark newsboy  cap, Porsche Boxster and sunglasses, and a fairy  figurine similar to the one tattooed on her back.  But then Timberlake decides that maybe now is not  the right time to play the thing. Instead, he  starts talking about Spears and about how, early  on, he felt blamed for the breakup, when it wasn’t  his fault at all, and before long he’s moodily  saying, “I think I still have a lot of feelings,  though I don’t particularly know what they are.”

The Timberlake home is  located in an estate-type subdivision twenty miles  outside Memphis. It’s brick, of a goodly but not  ostentatious size, and has a Tudor feel to it,  with a neatly manicured front greensward. Inside,  Harless has done the place up with statues on  tables, comfy couches and a few framed photographs  of her son, which he turns face down when she  isn’t looking and she turns face up when he isn’t  looking. Upstairs on a balcony is Timberlake’s  full-size Revenge From Mars pinball machine.  Hogging space next to the landing is his gigantic  suitcase, which he has yet to unpack. In the  living room, two TV sets face each other, with two  back-to-back easy chairs situated between them;  this is where Timberlake and his lifelong best  friend, Trace Ayala, play Halo on the Xbox they  bought at the local Best Buy.

Timberlake’s parents  divorced when he was two; two years later, his  mom, now forty-one, got remarried, to Paul Harless,  a local banker, and together they raised what to  them seemed like a very quiet child. “He always  walked around with his head down, so you never saw  anything but the top of his head,” says Lynn, a  trim, attractive woman. She remembers her son as a  “perfectionist [who] couldn’t stand anything on  his shoes or his hands.” The two were, and are,  exceptionally close. She came up with the name ‘NSync,  and ever since his Mickey Mouse Club  days, when it all got started, she’s been his  co-manager. Lovingly enough, Timberlake has a  tattoo on his back of an angel holding a banner  that bears his mom’s initials.

One great thing about  Timberlake is that, while he’s no longer all that  quiet, he’s still as friendly and open as he must  have been as a kid. Sure, much has changed since ‘NSync  began cranking out their four albums; but much is  the same, too. Timberlake has given no thought to  deep-sixing ‘NSync; in fact, he and the guys are  slated to start a new album in the fall. Plus,  it’s not like his family has uprooted itself,  moved to Los Angeles, bought Bentleys, gone in for  plastic surgery and fallen out with one another,  lawsuits resulting. They’ve all stayed put, which  is why Timberlake has a home to go to. He’s  comfortable here, resting up until he has to  embark on a promo tour that will last until  February, which will be followed by a club-date  tour in the spring and an arena tour in the  summer. So anything you want to talk to him about,  you go right ahead. Pretty much, he’s game.

He says that when he  listens to Eminem, it makes him want to “beat the  shit out of somebody — and if you can give me a  feeling like that with a song, man, that’s music,”  though he thinks Eminem probably wouldn’t like Justified at all. He says that during his  acne years, he was popularly known as Pizza Face  and that, as a kid, he attended a nearby Baptist  church with his folks but felt rejected by its  frowning, judging elders and eventually found his  own place with the Lord, no church required. “I  can honestly say I am a Christian, but my  spirituality has been developed on the road and is  based on my experiences with God.” He claims to  never have been a frequent masturbator.  “Definitely not frequent. Actually, I’m not a huge  fan of it. I mean, it is what it is, a safe haven,  there when you need it, and I don’t feel guilty  about it. But I always like to do everything at  its best, and that just seems like settling,  doesn’t it?”

He says, often and  without prompting, that he loves his mother very  much. The two spend lots of time together away  from home, too. (In fact, the tabloids reported  seeing Timberlake and his mom before Christmas at  the club Lotus in New York, sharing a joint.) “We  have a very special relationship,” he says.  “She’s been my best friend since I figured out who  I wanted to be. She’s great, and such a fun woman.  She goes out with me and stays out later than I  do. She’s always been there beside me, and I think  that’s part of my problem with girls. You keep  searching for somebody as good as your mother, and  that’s a losing battle.”

It’s been quite some  journey for him, of course, an improbable slue to  fame that seems to have left him kissed by  blessings in all areas of life except one. And  that one follows him around like a bad dream.

A few months ago — after  attending the Mike Tyson-Lennox Lewis dust-up in  Memphis and buying himself a new $115,000 V-12  493-horsepower Mercedes S600 (“It’s pimp, so  pimp!”) — Timberlake checked in to one of the  luxe rooms at the Trump International Hotel and  Tower in Manhattan, went to see the Lakers whomp  the Nets at New Jersey’s Continental Airlines  Arena and during the game had to deal with this  older dude demanding to know if Timberlake was  still seeing Spears, and what, exactly, was the  story between them.

Timberlake squinted at  him and said, “Do you realize how you sound right  now? You’re a grown-ass man — and you want to  know about a twenty-one-year-old’s so-called love  life? Do you want me to repeat what you just said  so you can know what an ass you sound like?”

The guy stuttered an  apology.

“Don’t be sorry,”  Timberlake said. “Just don’t say stupid shit like  that.”

Being in the public eye,  of course, stupid shit like this happens to  Timberlake all the time, and he’s learned to deal  with it.

“If I was like, ‘Well,  people shouldn’t say anything,’ it would have  driven me insane,” he said the next day in his  hotel room. “But when you know people are going to  say stupid shit, you don’t get emotional. I have  to say something back, but I’m pretty clever, and  I wait for the moment and then I make them feel  dumb. By that time, the bodyguard has stepped in,  and I’m on my way.”

Chuckling, he moved to a  window that faced Central Park. “I’m a very  loving, caring person,” he was saying, “and if I  start dating you — you know, as a girl — it may  take me a long time to give myself away to you,  but once I do, that’s it. You can have whatever  you want. But I’ve had my heart broken plenty of  times.”

He pressed his lips  together and fluttered a sad noise.

“Three times, actually,”  he continued. “I was fifteen the first time. She  cheated on me, and I broke up with her. That’s  reason enough, right? ‘Oops, sorry, see you.’ I’d  been going with her for a year. The second one I  saw for a year and a half. And the third one” —  and here he paused, thinking of Spears — “was for  three and a half years. It was the same with her  as with the first girl who broke my heart and the  second. They’ve all gone down the same way. All of  them. Three strikes, I’m out. I mean, she has a  beautiful heart, but if I’ve lost my trust in  someone, I don’t think it’s right for me to be  with them. I’m not going to let my baggage with  somebody else become my baggage with a new person.  But I’ll tell you, man, I have little, little  hope. Three strikes. Little hope.”

So that’s the way it is  with him. The girls he loves apparently cheat on  him. It’s an embarrassing thing, especially for a  star of Timberlake’s magnitude; but worse, it’s a  terrible personal tragedy, excruciating to the  heart and a burden on the soul. But even that  can’t fully explain why he made something so  publicly wounding as the “Cry Me a River” video,  unless there’s more to the hurt than he is fully  able to admit.

After a while, Timberlake  gets up from the couch, makes his way into the  kitchen and begins working on his cheese steak,  salad and fries. His mother is puttering around  nearby and often appears out of nowhere, by her  son’s side. Timberlake is saying it’s not as if  he’s not interested in other women besides Spears,  because he is. He’s interested in Shania Twain,  for instance. “I met her in France recently, and  she was wearing jeans and a low top, and she is  one hot little number. Too bad she’s married.”  And Natalie Imbruglia. “I’d like to start a rumor  about me and her.” And actress Shannyn Sossamon.  “She’s my latest crush. She just seems so unfazed.  I’m scared to meet her. She’s a nonconformist and  looks intelligent. That makes her ten times  hotter. She’s too fine.”

Though he claims never to  have gone out with Christina Aguilera (“There was  no Christina fling”) and gets all coy when  discussing an alleged make-out session with Janet  Jackson (“A gentlemen never tells,” he says,  tellingly), he does admit to dating Alyssa Milano.  “It’s still a fresh thing,” he says, “and if I  had to say, I’d say we are friends.”

He dimples a fry into a  puddle of ketchup, then lifts it into the air.  “The whole girlfriend thing?” he goes on. “I’m  into trying new things now. Like, I went on a date  the other day. A regular date. The last time I did  that, I was sixteen. It was somebody from around  here. We went to dinner, came back to the house  and watched a basketball game on TV. Usually, when  I meet somebody, I’m always so skeptical, like,  ‘Why are they being so nice to me? What do they  want?’ But I felt I was relating to this girl on a  human level. It was just fun, good  twenty-one-year-old-I’m-on-a-date fun. I was like,  ‘This is so cool!’ Actually, I think I’m in this  zone where I don’t want to be attached to  anyone.”

Then he stops talking  about his date with the local girl and starts  talking about Spears, though he is either  unwilling, or unable, to refer to her by her name.

“When we were together it  was bliss,” he says, “like something from a damn  fairy tale. But right now, I just don’t see —  it’s just so hard. So hard. I’m the type of  person, if I’m not exactly sure about something,  then I’ll wait it out and see. I may not ever get  over her. That’s why I’m kind of chilling. I’m  waiting to see. I do have to come to the  realization that I might never.”

Suddenly he leans forward  and says, “I think now, more than ever, everything  is OK. But I still love her. I really do still  love that girl.”

After that, Timberlake  leaves the table, goes into the other room and  comes back with his Gibson, which he plays while  explaining how it happened that, after much  goading by the disc jockeys on Hot 97 radio in New  York, he admitted to performing oral sex on  Spears. “I thought, ‘Well, maybe that’s the sense  of humor here.’ But anybody who listened to that  show has to know it’s a joke. They were promising  me spins on the radio, so I was just pimping  spins. I thought it was funny as hell. That’s just  my sense of humor.”

He returns to his guitar.  Soon, his fingerpicking evolves into Kansas’ “Dust  in the Wind.” “It’s just a great song,” he says,  and then he begins to talk about the girls in Los  Angeles and, again, his mom. “You go out to a club  anywhere in L.A. and you’re like, ‘Damn!’ But  still, man, they can’t hold a conversation, and if  I can’t do that with somebody, I really have no  attraction. I want a girl who I can tell anything  to and not worry about offending them. I’ve always  been that way with my mother. We really converse  well. We talk about everything, and I think I  yearn for that.”

Right around then, Lynn  Harless, who is wearing a sweat shirt that reads  Be Naughty, Save Santa the Trip, comes into the  kitchen and takes a seat. “I had Justin when I was  twenty, and he seemed about twenty when he was  born, so we’ve pretty much shared everything,”  she says, gazing at her boy. “We’re weird like  that. But there’s a lot of stuff he starts telling  me about that I tell him, ‘OK, I think this is  something you should talk to Trace about. Some  things you are not supposed to say to your  mother.’ Sexual things. And his response is  usually, ‘Oh, Mom, just listen.’ ”

While his mom is saying  this, Timberlake keeps on playing, smiling to  himself. If, as he often says, he’s looking for a  woman just like the woman sitting opposite him  right now, and if he thought he had found that  woman in Spears, then Spears’ betrayal of him must  in some way feel as bad as if it were his mother  betraying him. Actually, maybe nothing could be  worse for a guy like Timberlake, more damaging or  less likely to heal.

A week later, he travels  to Manhattan to promote Justified on MTV,  where his “Cry Me a River” video is already Number  One on TRL. Timberlake steadfastly, and somewhat  illogically, denies the video has anything to do  with him and Spears. “I didn’t make this video so  I could sit around and talk about it,” he says  belligerently. “It’s a video, and when you watch  it, either you have a sense of humor or you don’t.  [The girl] doesn’t represent anybody. She  represents a female in the story line. I haven’t  gone public about my relationship.”

He does say, however,  that he’s called Spears since the video’s debut,  “because when people blew it way out of  proportion, I didn’t want things to get  misunderstood. She was cool. We’re cool. I haven’t  spoken to her directly about it, because that’s my  career, and I don’t speak with people in my  personal life about my career, but I can tell you  that we are cool. There’s no hard feelings. What  is all the fuss about? If anybody is the bad guy  in the video, it’s me.”

And that’s certainly  true. If the Britney figure is a cheater, the  Timberlake character is both a cheater and a  creep. To exact his revenge, he breaks into his  girlfriend’s house, gets it on with some tramp on  his girlfriend’s bed, films it with his  girlfriend’s video camera, arranges it so his  girlfriend will see the video and, upon his  girlfriend’s return from her own tryst, stalks her  through the house and into the shower. It’s weird,  all right, and speaks of a guy with a mother-size  hole in his heart who wants to get even and then  some.

“What can I say?”  Timberlake continues. “It’s a good-ass video. I  don’t want anyone to come off smelling like roses.  I don’t like the smell of roses anyway.’

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