By Lynda Arakawa
I'm in love with a stripper.
I knew that would get your attention.
That line certainly caught mine when I heard it on the radio recently. "I'm N Luv (Wit A Stripper)" is a song.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, some guy has decided to croon his love for an exotic dancer. I guess it was bound to happen, and I shouldn't have been all that surprised given how long Club Rock-Za has been in business. Yep, guys sure do love them stripping females.
But the song caught me off guard because it's not one of those typical bass-thumpin', booty-shakin', "all that junk inside your trunk" kind of songs. It has a slow, almost romantic tempo. The guy sounds serious.
Is this song for real? Are you freaking kidding me?
But I decided to give the song a chance and listen to the lyrics. After all, strippers are people too, right? Maybe this guy — his name is T-Pain, by the way — genuinely loves this woman and wants the world to know she's so much more than just a striptease.
Maybe she's struggling to support her sick grandmother. Maybe she's paying her way through medical school and aspires to be a pediatrician in a nonprofit community clinic. Maybe T-Pain wants her to quit her gig at the strip bar and start a new life with him so they can raise some mini T-Pains in the suburbs.
To be fair, maybe T-Pain really does appreciate this stripper's inner beauty. Who knows. But he does make the following points clear: This chick can sure climb a pole. And she can pop it and lock it like there's no tomorrow.
Having listened to my share of low-substance booty music since the seventh grade, I can't say I'm horribly offended by this song. I do think it's one of the most ridiculous songs ever, but it probably wasn't meant to be taken seriously. Really, how could it?
Rather than being an insult to women, the song says more about the flaws of men; guys who are simple-minded suckers for scantily clad women who pretend to like them to get their money. All right, not all guys are like that. But you know what I mean.
Sure, women have weaknesses for superficial things too, but you'll never hear an ode to Chunky Monkey ice cream or a ballad about the sale rack at Banana Republic.
And no self-respecting woman would ever sing about a stripper. A ditty about flirting with a hot guy at a club? Sure. Being smitten with a man prancing around on stage in a thong? No thanks. Even if he is straight.
But this is a free country, and T-Pain can belt out praises about his beloved stripper if he wants. He's an artist, and I can accept that.
Now, if only I can get that song out of my head.
Reach Lynda Arakawa at firstname.lastname@example.org.