The Most Romantic Song on the Radio, a Study

So, ladies and gentlemen, we're about to take a leisurely stroll through what I think is the sweetest, most poignant, poetic song in existence to date. Men, especially, please pay attention, because this is practically a primer on how to approach and treat women. Ladies, let's just savor how much ground we have gained in the Battle of the Sexes.

This song, dear readers, is called "Gorilla," and it's by a young man named Bruno Mars whom many have compared rightly to Michael Jackson in terms of vocal style and talent. He didn't do half bad on Saturday Night Live, either.

But I digress. On to the music.

First note: If you are Bruno Mars, you may record a song referring to yourself as a gorilla. If you are Robin Thicke, you cannot record a song comparing Bruno Mars to a gorilla because that's racist. You're welcome.

Now, let's start on the lyrics to this tour de force of endearment:

"Ooh I got a body full of liquor with a cocaine kicker and I'm feeling like I'm thirty feet tall." Bingo! The alcohol/drug/hallucinatory combination is the trifecta of what it is women seek in a potential mate.

"So lay it down, lay it down." Thanks. I'm kind of tired.

"You got your legs up in the sky..." Well, if my legs are elevated, that probably means that I have some wicked edema. It's awesome that such a good-looking guy is okay with this.

"... and the devil in your eyes." Do I really, or is this more drug-induced hallucination?

 "Let me hear you say you want it all. Say it now, say it now." What do I want? What? Give me a second. I can't think when you're pressuring me like this, Bruno.

"Look what you're doing, look what you done." Okay, sweetie. You're adorable, but I have to tell you that I'm a stickler for grammar. There's a "have" or "'ve" missing from this sentence. Anyway, thanks for being so attentive to what it is that I am and have been doing.

"But in this jungle you can't run. Cause what I got for you I promise it's a killer." So, I did something that makes you want to chase me down and hurt me? Rawr. Women love this kind of thing. Why settle for admiration and love when you can have the promise of a coked-out sex junky swearing that you're going to feel the pain?

"You'll be banging on my chest..." Precious little Bruno. If I banged on your 90-pound body's chest, I would destroy you.

"Bang bang, gorilla." This was my daughter's favorite book when she was a baby! She liked it even better than, "Toot toot, mouse" and "Clap clap, muskrat."

"You and me, baby, making love like gorillas."

Please note:



I hate to engage in lowest common denominator humor, but that seems awfully anti-climactic, Bru-bru. Not a lot of chest-thumping going on there since they're not facing each other at all, and the dude seems to be thinking about the long workday he has in store tomorrow. And do you intend to do this outside? Or have the kids in the room? Will they be sucking on your toes afters? I just want my expectations to be reasonably set.

"Yeah I got a fistful of your hair but you don't look like you're scared." Because I'm not. Remember that thing about my being able to snap you like a twig? Yeah. But there's nothing the ladies like more than having a guy do stuff specifically designed to frighten us. Please, freak us out a little.

"You're just smiling tell me, 'Daddy, it's yours.'" Whoa, Dad! How did you end up in this song? I haven't called you "Daddy" since I was 10, and if I have anything that belongs to you, you know I'll happily return it. Can we turn this song back over to Bruno, please?

"Cause you know how I like it, you's a dirty little lover." I is. I is certainly not a caricature of an uber-attractive lady-whore thunk up in some Neanderthal man fantasy factory.

"If the neighbors call the cops, call the sheriff, call the SWAT we don't stop. We keep rocking while they knocking on our door." Good grief, it's like your finger is on the pulse of ladydom. If there is one thing notorious about women, it is our ability to block out atmospheric distractions and concentrate solely on monkey-love.

"And you're screaming, 'Give it to me baby. Give it to me, motherf***er.'" I LOVE that we're in the kind of relationship (or are we in a relationship? Is this a one night thing? Whatever.) where I can call you mother stuff and also refer to you as my daddy. This all spells one healthy romance!

There's also a bridge about how good I'll feel and how I'll never be the same after all of the crazy primate action, but I think that goes without saying.

So, just to summarize: You're high on several things, and you're sexually aggressive and borderline violent. Fortunately, because I's so dirty, I like this and in fact demand that you give it to me.

Ladies, let's hold our collective head high because this expectation has been set. We have reached this lofty status of being a sex tool for a man who has not spoken once of affection or admiration or respect, but who still fully expects to have mind-blowing wonka-wonka handed to him even though he's probably going to black out and remember nothing of this tomorrow, while we will have to go to work bearing bruises, most likely. Female power! Whooo!

Men, this is your primer. Now get out there and get yo freak on. It's exactly what all of us women are waiting for.