Picture this. Are you a girl? If not, picture being one now, and imagine then that you’ve picked up a really hot guy in the EDM or BDSM or ROTFL club you went to on a Saturday night. You know, wherever your imaginary female self goes to meet imaginary men to possibly have sex with. It doesn’t matter the place – though the club I have pictured in my mind’s eye has a dance floor that doubles as a shark tank and bar stools that are taxidermied racehorse heads. Imagine your own place though; this one’s mine.
I left my dog without water, I think. Or food. Did I tell you I have a baby? I have a very small baby at home. Alone. In a hot car.
So, anyway, you meet a super hot man to take back someplace and get to know carnally. (Nookie. Bump and grind. Knocking boots. Bumping uglies. Going to pound town. Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo.) You can even imagine the sex part, too, you pervs, but bear in mind, this is what happens next, when you go to slip on your panties and skirt and leave this said “hot man” and head home.
Hot man: (sniffles)
You: Are you getting sick?
Hot man: (sniffles) No.
You: Uh. Oh my God. Are you crying?
Hot man: I’m really bad at one-night stands! (cries harder)
You: Oh. OK. Did you want my number then?
Hot man: I still need love, because I’m just a man!
You: (confused) Did you wanna be Facebook friends, too?
Hot man: (through tears) I don’t want you to leave – will you hold my hand?
You: If you swear to stop crying, I guess I will. (You take his hand.)
Hot, crying man: Stay with me. You’re all I need …
Hot, crying man: This isn’t love, it’s clear to me! Just stay with me. Oh God, why do I do this after sex! I get so emotional! I know this looks terrible, I just have no self-control.
You: … …
Hot, sobbing man: I know we’ll never work!
You: Well, I mean, well. Hey, you’re sorta crushing my hand here …
Hot, sobbing man: Can you just lay with me so it doesn’t hurt?
You: (suddenly remembering) You know, I would, but I left my dog without water, I think. Or food. Did I tell you I have a baby? I have a very small baby at home. Alone. In a hot car.
Hot, sobbing guy: STAY WITH ME!
You: (Taser him and GTFO)
OK, kids. That exercise in pretending there was for your own good, and served a purpose. We actually just reenacted Sam Smith’s hit song “Stay With Me.”
The premise of the entire thing is ridiculously stupid, and I just ruined it for you for your own damn good.
While musically, the song sounds nice, and he has a wonderful voice, the premise of the entire thing is ridiculously stupid, and I just ruined it for you for your own damn good. Besides, the last British white guy who sang like him was Rick-rolling Rick Astley. You shouldn’t get too attached to this one.
So, you’re welcome, guys. I hope you can now hate “Stay With Me” as much as I do. Which is with the heat of a thousand double suns.
All my love,
The Music Snob