What Kinds Of Boyfriends Musicians Would Be, Judging By Their Songs
I guess we can never fully know anyone, really. But if a man is going so far as to give us a little peek into his soul every time someone plays the right chords, I think we may have a pretty good idea of what he’s like behind closed doors. There’s only so many times a guy can tell you exactly how deep he’s going to love you (is that a metaphor, you Saucy McSaucertons!?) before you start to figure it’s probably pretty deep.
Drake is going to love you really hard, but he’s going to be extremely conflicted about it. Probably a lot of self-hate, maybe a lot of pints of Haagen Dazs watching Craig Ferguson in his “leave me alone” bathrobe. He’s going to want to give you everything that’s in his soul, but then he’s going to turn around and ask you if you’re really here for him, or just trying to catch a little of that Jimmy from Degrassi fame. Drizzy just wants you to be straight with him, he’s man enough to take it (but only kind of, don’t be too hard on him). Also, as he’s Canadian, he’ll probably be pretty polite when ordering at restaurants.
Bruno Mars would get friendzoned into oblivion by every girl he even looked at too long. He just thinks you so beautiful, damnit, and he wants to take care of you and make you feel like the princess you are. He wants to make you ravioli and compliment your mother’s Ann Taylor dresses. He wants to rub your feet and tell you not to worry about what the other girls are doing. You would refer to Bruno as “nice” and “so sweet” and “the kind of guy you’re totally going to marry someday,” and then leave him for the guy with the coke addiction and four dollars in checking.
Conor Oberst would never stop crying.
Trey Songz would love you down in so many ways you would become clinically insane. His lovemaking will, in chronological order, start the New World Order, reunite Pangaea, and rid the world of disease. Trey Songz would be the guy with whom you spend an amazing week and a half who proceeds to act as though he’s never met or even heard of you. He would also sleep with your better-looking younger sister, and possibly your mother.
Jason would smoke a lot of pot, forget to pay his half of the electric bill, and not show up to your art show you’ve been bugging him about for weeks. He would have a lot of really lofty ideas about your love, and he’d have this impish, child-like demeanor that makes you almost forget all of your material problems. He would spend all afternoon one day making baklava for you because he knows you like it, but then you’d come home and the cat would be dead because he hadn’t fed it for the two weeks you were away. It wouldn’t end very well.
Ray would be a tender-yet-gritty soul that makes endless love to you on camping trips, could skin and prepare any matter of wild game, and had been hurt before so deeply that all you want to do is hold him to your chest and let his wild man-beard tickle your cleavage. Ray would know how to treat you, but he would constantly be just a step out of reach. In fact, his raspy, lived-in voice would prevent you from understanding about 30 percent of what he actually said.
Eminem wouldn’t ever actually abuse you physically, because that would be wrong, but he would talk about it so much that you’d find yourself calling a help line anyway. When you guys got into your nightly screaming matches in which you hurl another full set of Ikea flatware at each other from across the dining room, he would end them by coming over to you and telling you, through stifled man-tears, how no one will ever love you the way he does. Also, if you got too pushy, he would take you out into the woods and kill you.
Ben would be the wordsmith who opened your eyes to so much nuance about the world around you, yet would take up four of your five week nights asking you to read the poetry he wrote on the bus. Things with him would start out wonderfully, and you’d talk to all your girlfriends about this amazing new guy who just “gets it,” but by week five or six you’d be begging for a guy with a fourth-grade vocabulary, so long as he could take out the trash or mow the lawn once in a while.
Tyler the Creator
*To be updated when Tyler loses his virginity.
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3. The ones who can’t take a hint
Obama imagined writing a poem about this moment, and publishing it on a clandestine Tumblr under a pseudonym, and telling only Bo and perhaps his publicist’s gay assistant’s assistant.
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