If Someone Says "You Complete Me," RUN! (2 page)

W
hen you think about all the cultural factors that influence you in terms of setting expectations for the kinds of relationships you look for, it can blow your mind. I grew up in the sixties and can pinpoint, specifically, the impact the Beatles had on me. When you listen to “She Loves You,” or any of their songs, you
just want to… well, let’s put it this way:
that’s
what you want. You want
that
kind of relationship. “And I Love Her” is also one that just gets you. It’s crazy. And “Love Me Do.” I could go on and on. All those songs lead you to believe that this is what’s out there waiting for you. That if you’re careful and you’re smart and you’re loving, you’re going to find it.

When you listen to any of Sinatra’s songs, it’s kind of extraordinary how deeply affecting they are. Fundamentally, Ol’ Blue Eyes was singing about great relationships or about stumbling upon someone amazing, like in “Strangers in the Night.” It’s what you basically want.

Then you end up with somebody like Barry White, and it’s all about sex. It’s just too much; it’s overkill. You’re just like, “Come on. Are you kidding me?”

In the fifties and sixties, it was all about the romance. All these songs that make us feel such strong emotions also make us think, “Wouldn’t it be great if life were like that?” Think about any of the Four Seasons songs. You want to be their Ronnie. You want to be that girl.

But our lives are much harder and more complicated than a three-minute song.

All these romantic songs created a bunch of hopeless romantics—no wonder the seventies turned into the decade of divorce. The women’s movement and the Pill helped all this along. Real life couldn’t compete with what we were listening to. When you realize that your idea of
perfect love was shaped by the music you listened to, things start to get a lot clearer and make much more sense.

This may say a lot about why people are the way they are these days about love. Songs like “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp” might have deeply shifted our concept of love… I’m kidding.

The Beatles weren’t the only ones. Think about all these songs that you hear today that help heighten this idea of what a relationship should be.

John Legend has a song called “Good Morning.” Even I, when I hear it, think for one hot second, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have somebody sing that to me or feel that way about me?” The words are “Good morning, good morning, love.” It’s just, like, “Well, good morning, John.” Who the hell doesn’t want to wake up to John Legend singing to them about how wonderful they are? It’s not a bad way to start the day.

Or listen to “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.” Really? There’s someone out there who is going to make you feel like a “natural woman,” as if you were an “unnatural woman” to start with? Or “As Long as He Needs Me,” from the musical
Oliver!
, where Nancy sings about Bill Sykes, who has pretty much beat the shit out of her, and she is saying, “This is my man, and I’m going to be with him even though he doesn’t do any of the things that he is supposed to do, just because I think that, deep down, he needs me.” What the hell is wrong with this woman?

Think about “I Say a Little Prayer”: “The moment I wake up / Before I put on my makeup, / I say a little prayer for you.” Come on. Really? What the fuck? You should be saying a little prayer for yourself, so you can get through the day. If you’re going to take a minute to pray, pray that you get to your job on time without getting hit by a bus or getting mugged, or that nothing happens to you on the subway or crossing the street. This idea that you have this love, this love in you, and you say a little prayer for
him
every morning before you do anything else… it’s not really real. It’s kind of wonderful to be in that heightened state, but it’s not real. Maybe I just look at it as a prelude to problems, because at some point you won’t be so infatuated or giddy or oversexed, and you will be sorely disappointed. Which is when you start saying a little prayer that this person will just go away.

For me, these are the worst songs to listen to if you are looking for love. I blame these songs for messing me up, for setting me up to fail. Don’t get me wrong. They are all great songs. I love these songs. They just send the wrong message:

“I Want to Know What Love Is,” by Foreigner. Boy does this one suck people in. I love the title—and who
doesn’t
want to know what love is? But then here is the trap: “I know you can show me.” Come on. It’s a trap.

“What a Difference a Day Makes,” by Dinah Washington. So she meets this guy, and in twenty-four hours her whole life turns around from misery to bliss? I can only say, “Good luck, sistah.”

“My Boy Lollipop.” Let’s not even get into why she is calling her boyfriend a lollipop. You know what I’m talking about.

“It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World,” and pretty much James Brown all around. As the saying goes, women today have half the money and all the pussy, so I’m not sure this song is accurate.

“I Can’t Make You Love Me.” This song is a real heartbreaker, and Bonnie Raitt just kills it. This song will make you cry, but it could also send you into a tailspin of heartbreak that just isn’t right.

“Where Would I Be Without You?” by the Supremes. Hopefully still yourself.

A lot of Stevie Wonder, especially “I Believe (When I Fall in Love, It Will Be Forever).” The whole album that this song is on,
Talking Book
, pretty much covers the entire trajectory of a relationship. It is amazing, but
you are going to want to break out the scotch when you listen to that one.

Any of the love songs from
West Side Story
, but especially “One Hand, One Heart.” So now we all want to be Siamese twins?

“My Girl.” Providing sunshine on a cloudy day and some of these other acts of God the Temptations sing about is a lot of pressure to put on someone. Do you really want to take that on and be that guy’s girl?