What Do You Mean Two Out of Three Ain’t bad?!?!?
27 May 2009
I went to Sheridan’s this weekend with Ben and McKenna. I don’t know if they normally play music, but if they do, it’s the fade-into-the-background type. This weekend, the music jumped out at you. And not in a good way.
About halfway through my yummy Caramel Pretzel Crunch Concrete, a song finally came on that gave me a flutter of excitement. Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad by Meatloaf, which I listened to as a kid with my father. (It’s on the same CD as Paradise by the Dashboard Lights, which he used to teach me about the carnal male nature.) Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad is about a guy breaking up with his girlfriend. A fine subject for a song, in my opinion, but my moment of nostalgia was interrupted when I became totally distracted by the chorus, which is: I want you, I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you. So don’t feel bad, cause two out of three ain’t bad.
I felt a surge of annoyance with the songwriter. I mean, what kind of flip comment is that during a breakup, that two out of three “ain’t bad”? (Plus my spell check is going crazy with the word “ain’t,” so I’m now even more annoyed.) I really wished I could say to our anonymous guy, “How is it possible that you both want and need her, but don’t love her? I’m so confused by your emotions. I don’t understand you and you’re making me mad.”
If Ben ever decided to leave me and wanted to do it in a way that made me absolutely crazy, he should steal a few lines from Meatloaf.
Is it just that I don’t understand our songwriter’s situation? I don’t think so. Because today in the car, Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event came on the radio. A song I love and can’t help turning up every time it’s on. The song is about a guy who spots an ex-girlfriend in a bar. She leaves with someone else, and he kinda freaks out. This has never happened to me. In fact, I can’t think of a remotely similar situation (it helps that I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve been in a bar). But somehow, when Mikel Jolliet belts out his pain, I somehow relate. I believe in his situation. I want to hug him and tell him it’ll all be okay. With Meatloaf, however, I want to smack him and say, “This is a horrible breakup! Who would ever be cruel enough to say this to a person? A person they ‘want’ and ‘need’?”
And it came to me today that it’s often the same situation with books (or movies for – sigh – you non-readers out there) we love or hate. When I dislike a book, it’s usually because I don’t relate to the characters. I don’t understand why they’re acting the way they are. Especially if they do that stupid thing where a very important letter shows up, but instead of reading it, they tuck it away. Oooh, few things make me as angry in fiction as that, which is so clearly a ploy to stretch out tension.
It’s not that we have to love all the characters in a novel, or feel like, “Yes, that’s exactly the way I would have reacted!” What it comes down is believing they’re behaving in a way that makes sense for them. Which is something I’m going to be very careful of from here on out. Because it’s just plain obnoxious to sit there while some guy croons on and on about wanting and needing, yet not loving. Give me a break. And, if possible, an explanation.
Another LOL, Stephanie. Hmm, that letter things sounds familiar—I wonder who’s been complaining about that recently?
I’m with you. I mean, not listening to that music I’ve never heard of (ha ha ha—okay, so I have indeed heard of Meatleaf, just not that . . . other . . . one;-) But the frustration of not being believable? Yeah. That’s toss-it-into-a-wall material right there.
Posted by Roseanna on 27 May 2009