I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that I am someone who has said, "Who doesn't love Barry Manilow?" with a straight face.
Every once in a while, Nick will get a wild hair up his ass to listen to some particular song. And then he'll buy it and play it 54 times.
So last night he bought Come A Little Bit Closer - a song I recognize but had never actually listened to. We played it over and over at breakfast this morning. For those of you who have never heard of it, here you go:
And as I am a person who who loves songs like Copacabana and Hernando's Hideaway, I can certainly swoop around the house singing, "Come a little bit closer, you're my kind of man, so big and so strong. Come a little bit closer, I'm all alone, and the night is so long..."
It's fun. And plus, why didn't I know that line when I was single?
The issue at hand is that Nick contends that my songs are just not in the same category. Because mine are just, well, not as good.
And I am like, you are just wrong.
Seriously. Copacabana? It's got everything: romance, glamor, jealousy, murder, strength, tragedy, insanity! Who could ask for more?
Don't you think?