I've been thinking lately about "The Piña Colada Song" (AKA "Escape") and there are a number of things that just don't add up.

First of all, just how long has this couple been together? I suppose it's possible that the narrator doesn't know about his partner's fondness for "making love at midnight in the dunes of the cape" (which, after all, might have occurred during her wild college years), but I have a hard time believing that he would also be oblivious to her taste for piña coladas, the rain, and her distaste for yoga. Those are a lot of blind spots for a couple that has supposedly been together long enough to fall into a "dull routine." A counter-argument could be made that theirs was a relationship based solely on sex, but if that were the case then he probably should have had some inkling about her thing for the dunes of the cape.

Also, am I the only one who is annoyed by the fact that the narrator does not directly address the mystery woman's point about yoga? Instead, he goes off on a tangent about health food and then declares, Tourette's-like, "I am into champagne!" The woman stipulated in her overture that her fantasy suitor "have half a brain," but the man's reactions indicate at least some degree of cognitive challenge. Perhaps he's taking the "half a brain" request literally rather than figuratively, and is seeking to demonstrate that he is only operating on 50% brain capacity.

Let's follow the yoga point a bit further. One wonders why it is so important that the woman's would-be lover eschew this ancient art. Given how quickly the male physique can deteriorate, it would seem that a potential partner's interest in yoga would be an asset, even if the other partner doesn't share it. But perhaps she is opposed on religious grounds? (Also, we don't know what the "lovely lady" actually looks like; there might be an intimidation factor. Given the appearance of the song's author, Rupert Holmes, it's reasonable to assume that we're not dealing with Lana Turner here).

I would also guess that the man's declaration that he's "not much into health food" and that he might even be nursing an alcohol dependency would be a further red flag. Heavy consumption of alcohol brings with it a lot of empty calories and has been linked to poor sexual performance. Now, I'm not Dr. Oz, but I'm thinking that without a healthy diet to balance out the heavy drinking, there are probably some serious medical issues on the horizon. Is that really what she wants in a companion?

Finally, we're left with the supposed happy ending in which the husband and wife realize that they've really been corresponding with each other the whole time. But think about this for a moment. Once the afterglow of getting it on at midnight for apparently the first time in their relationship subsides, there will be some tough issues to work through—for a start, the fact that they were both actively conspiring to carry on affairs.

Given this couple's history of poor communication, I don't hold out much hope for them in the long run. If divorce doesn't get them, liver failure or heart disease will. Sorry to rain on anyone's parade, but I've got to call this as I see it. Next!


January 15, 2015 @07:25 pm
You are right that this relationship is doomed. But you don't take your pessimism far enough. Every relationship either one of them will ever have again is doomed. Their entire relationship was originally based on sexual chemistry that slowly became sexual convenience. But they are not leaving O'Malley's that fateful night with other people. The mutual failed attempts at cheating is going to be a spark like a couple experimenting with role play; and the discovery of a shared interest in public, sandy sex will help reignite the sexual chemistry. But when it fades again, and it will, the level of distrust and suspicion in this relationship will be toxic... and entirely justified. The Freudian theory of projection suggests that if person A accuses person B of wrongdoing, it is often evidence that person A is guilty of the wrongdoing. For this couple, projection will be like a GIF of an M.C. Escher painting inside a hall of mirrors: constant suspicion that you are attempting to cheat on me in exactly the same way that I attempted to cheat on you, which was exactly the same way in which you attempted to cheat on me with me, while I was arranging to cheat on you with you. And the scars of this recursive loop of a pre-internet attempt at Tinder will be so deep and damaging, that neither of them will ever love again.

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