A Bittersweet Device

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This song’s POV? What a choice.

And that snappy tempo? Brilliant.

With a simple pivot from first to third person and a jaunty back beat to drive it all home our narrator instantly manipulates the way we perceive his story so he can pummel himself mercilessly while the rest of us are distracted by the details of the vignette.

I loved this song when I was a kid, for its artistry and for its emotional discord. I remember at age 6 or 7, maybe 8, sitting in the backseat of my parents’ car as we drove to or from somewhere, the tears welling up whenever this song would come on and then crying quietly so that no one could tell because who wants to get caught crying over a dumb song, not me.

And yet…

I couldn’t help but picture the whole scenario in my head. Poor guy, pining over this woman for all those years. That tall, beautiful woman, just like the girl from Ipanema but with dark hair and dressed in cashmere – at least that’s how I imagined her her. She was the centre of his story; they shared something special. And, since she agreed to meet up, maybe it was time to say what had never been said, reveal his true feelings so she could reveal hers.

“She musters a smile for his nostalgic tale,” that’s the line that says it all.

And then, poor bastard, even as she apologizes, and despite watching her leave, he says to himself: if love can come and love can go, maybe love can return again and this is what he holds onto. Because the alternative is too painful. Too impossible. Too devastating.

I knew, even as a kid, I’d never do anything like that to anyone. Never make them feel the fool. I could never be like her.

Turns out, I’m like him. I’ve always been just like him.