All throughout my adult life, I’ve had a lot of unstable relationships with men. But I believe that all of these can be connected to listening to “Before He Cheats” with my divorced mom in her station wagon many times during my childhood. Here’s how.
First of all, I simply can’t trust a man. But why would I want to when all they do is go to karaoke with blonde women who really like Shania Twain? That’s why at the first sign of dishonesty, I am ready to tear apart all of my man’s belongings. It doesn’t matter if it’s a white lie or a simple mistake, I’ll still be setting fire to his clothes, vehicles, etc.
Several men have told me that I just need to “relax,” or “chill,” or “stop smashing things with a baseball bat,” but I’ll never stop. Why would I? So that they can finally go out to a dive bar and play pool with some random girl? Yeah, right. Nice try.
Besides my complexes with men, I also learned a lot of other things from the Carrie Underwood classic; like how drinking whiskey is always better than drinking a fruity little drink, and also that bar bathrooms can sometimes have dispensable cologne in them.
Above all else, I learned that when your man cheats, you can dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive and carve your name into his leather seats, then take a Louisville slugger to both headlights, slash a hole in all four tires, and then… and only THEN, maybe he won’t cheat anymore. At least not on me. I’ve never actually been cheated on before, but I’m sure that’s only because I take these measures preventatively.
So that’s how repeat listenings to BHC during my formative years forever impacted my relationships with men, but I would say it’s for the best. I’m sure Carrie would be glad to know of her impact, at least. She’s actually been married to a hockey player for 11 years, which is kind of fucked up but, whatever. Twangy guitar riff!
