[Niamh.]

http://jezebel.com/quiz-are-you-beck...air-1773208946

Result: You're Becky!

Spoiler:

If you're looking for the answer to the biggest lyrical mystery since the man Alanis Morissette went down on in a theater, look no further than the nearest mirror, because Becky With the Good Hair is you!

You met Shawn Carter way back in 2011, at a small party in New York City. You didn't even know how you ended up there, and neither did he. You thought he was a kind man. A decent man. He was good to you, and you were good right back. Sure, he was married, but he said they had an agreement. And who were you to question someone's marriage? During those early months, you and Shawn spent countless late nights lounging around your apartment completely naked. Here was this rich man who could afford to live in a palace, but he spent all that time in a crummy studio. It was the only place he felt like himself, he told you. You said the only place you felt like yourself was anywhere he was. And you meant it.

Things went well for a while. You suspected Beyonce knew about the affair because Shaw (you called him Shaw back then) told you she approved, as long as he didn't talk about it with her. How could you have known he was lying? How could you have known she was shocked to discover texts from you on his phone one night after months of feeling suspicious? After a nasty fight that ended with a slammed door that caused a neighbor to drop by and ask if everything was OK, you thought it was over. But it had only just begun.

The first call came at 2:00AM sometime in early 2014. You answered because you were nervous. It could have been your mother, calling because daddy had gotten sick again. But it wasn't. It was just...breathing. The person on the other line just took deep, healthy breaths, until finally--click. You looked at the screen: Call Ended. Four minutes exactly. You were scared. You called for your pet, only to find it dead by its bowl of food.

Next came the Post-it. After a week away with your girlfriends, you got home to discover a Post-it note on your kitchen counter. You can't remember the last time you bought Post-it notes, but there was a bright yellow one--right next to the bowl for your keys. "You're not his wife," it read. This wasn't the work of Beyoncé, you thought. You knew her handwriting. You knew she'd never ask someone to break into a home or commit any crime. This was someone else. Someone close to her. Someone willing to defend her honor at any cost. This was Solange.

The next day, you texted Shaw for the first time in months. "I need to talk to you," it said. You sent that text on May 4, 2014. He never responded.