My least favorite thing a man I’ve slept with has ever said to me was, “Aw, you’re too cute to be sad.”
My head was resting on his chest. I remember just kind of staring blankly at his left nipple and trying to pick apart the mechanics of that sentence. Like, was it that sadness made me less cute – ergo, stop being sad?
Did he imagine that there was some quality inherent to cuteness that made it impossible for me to be sad? Was he suggesting that perhaps I was mistaken about how much everything he’d just said made me want to die?
Or was he just hopeful that if he dismissed my emotions categorically enough he wouldn’t have to deal with them? (Actually, that’s a sound enough strategy. Well done, shitty boy)
Anyway, I was too numb and depressed to explain how every time a man calls me cute a little girl in the Midwest decides not to go into a STEM field. (Look it up, I read a study.)
So instead, I just kind of pulled his sheets over my face and tried to pretend that being wanted is the same as having a modicum of self-respect.
Guppy is the debut album from Brooklyn rockers Charly Bliss. Eva Hendricks’ voice hits somewhere between Violent Femmes and whoever sings “Teenage Dirtbag” (sorry, should I know that band?)
(I’m also sorry I just used male references to describe a female-fronted band. That’s kind of shitty of me. I’m just trying to pinpoint the winky adolescent charm that permeates the album).
Anyway, Guppy is an anthem front to back. An anthem to the first time you managed to look cool while giving someone the middle finger. An anthem to screaming at the dress code monitor. An anthem to hanging out at the skate park and holding hands in Dairy Queen. And also an anthem to calling bullshit on every dude who says you’re too cute to be sad or mad or fucked up or sexy or whatever.