The title means, my friendliness does not mean what you want it to, and it’s a kick at the text-messaging English that is becoming so commonplace.
I wrote this because I had yet another woman interested in me who absolutely was nothing I would even begin to be interested in if I were the last man on earth and humanity’s survival depended on our procreation. To top that, soon followed her gay friend’s fascination with me and assumption of romantic interest.
I was thoroughly repelled by the idea these 2 would assume themselves worthy of me or my romantic interest or anything that accompanies a romantic interest, simply because we were all single. I have had this experience more than I can count on any number of hands or feet, and I’m still shocked that just about any haggard, simple-minded trash with a pulse can see me as a potential suitor.
For the record, chances are overwhelming that you will never, ever interest me romantically, let alone deserve even the slightest interest beyond that which I reserve for any human being of any walk of life.
Maybe if I was fat and stupid and poor and overweight and had bad skin and the social skills of a doorknob and the sexual prowess of my stuffed-animal-humping childhood dog Sparky, I would actually be interested in any of the women (or men) who’ve approached me with the offensive assumption that my single marital status alone qualifies me as equally lowlife enough to get with them. Unfortunately, I suppose, I am not as yet any combination of the above, and I wish I could print that on a t-shirt and wear it or, maybe, maybe write and sing a song about how frustrated and insulted I feel. Wait, I did!
And I don’t kindly reject the assumption and advances of my pursuers, I use lyrics like, “I wouldn’t poke your dead body with a stick,” and I used rhythms I made with my voice instead of any instrument, and combined them with the keyboard’s percussion sounds. The result is cool, and I like that I made the recording ego-centric, with rap-like obsession of my name–repeated dozens of times. Repeating my name keeps it a little unpretentious and even a little laughable, which returns the offense.
I was worried that this song would have listener comments about how insulting and mean it was, but it’s been played and downloaded more times than I expected, which makes me laugh.
I am glad I could sing my life though; this is yet another example of me taking a moment (or many moments) in my life and translating it into melody, rhythm, and lyrics.