Escape — while you can

My evening commute is a very contemplative time for me.  Unfortunately, I often waste it contemplating the wrong things.  Today was an example.

As I drove home, my brain was interrupted by the traditional earworm “Escape (The Pina Colada Song)” by Rupert Holmes.  I don’t have the visceral distaste for the song that many experience (and are experiencing right now, no doubt), but I do have the blessing and curse of knowing all the words to the song.  Unfortunately, sometimes that means I think about the words.

Setting aside the obvious problem of their mutual attempted infidelities, consider the following:

1) They both define their mutual relationship primarily in terms of liquids (pina coladas, rain, oceans, champagne, etc.)  Even their mutual appreciation of dunes is primarily driven by the exchange of bodily fluids.

2) Their communication skills are so poor that even their compatible interests in the same state of matter remains unnoticed and unspoken.  (“You like liquids?  I like liquids!  How about that!  So how do you feel about solids?  Me, too!  We should stay together!”)

3) It appears neither of them is bright enough to suggest a more out-of-the-way destination for their assignation. (“Hey, let’s not go to O’Malley’s.  I go there with my significant other all the time, and someone might recognize me.  How do you feel about the new Italian place over on 7th?  I’ve always wanted to try it.”)

4) While it is the singer who engages in a certain amount of self-recrimination, and knows that he “sounds kinda mean”, it is HER personal ad that starts them down this path.

5) As hopeful as he tries to make this mutual faux pas sound, I don’t think they’re getting past this.  Why do I say this?  Her reaction to finding out that her current partner shares her liquid interests is “Oh, it’s you.”.  Not exactly the reaction one wants from a casual acquaintance, let alone the person in the bed next to you while you’re reading the paper.

6) The events of this song could not happen today.  Hardly anybody still reads a paper, and no one takes out personal ads in them.  She would have posted her profile to eHarmony or Match.com (probably with a picture), where he would have been unlikely to “accidentally” stumble onto it while reading the Drudge Report on his iPad.  The chances that she would find another person in the world whose profile indicated a love of mixed drinks and getting rained on, a hatred of yoga, and marginal intelligence are slim.  The number of pretenders who claimed all these preferences for a chance at sex on the beach (also a mixed drink, coincidentally) would number in the thousands.  And any couple this shallow would definitely be checking each other’s browser histories, and immediately found the deception.

My apologies for the earworm.

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