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A conversation with Robin Thicke

This morning I thought I’d pretend Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” consisted of his half of a conversation at a bar or club. Here’s the full conversation.

“If you can’t hear what I’m trying to say, if you can’t read from the same page, maybe I’m going deaf. Maybe I’m going blind. Maybe I’m out of my mind.”

“Or maybe I’m just not interested in you.”

“OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you, but you’re an animal, baby, it’s in your nature.”

“Being in a relationship has nothing to do with being ‘domesticated’ or ‘tamed’. You literally seem to be implying that I am a non-thinking animal here, and it’s insulting. A relationship is a partnership that requires compromise on both sides.”

“Just let me liberate you. You don’t need no papers.”

“Buddy, I told you, a relationship is a partnership. I don’t need to be ‘liberated’ from a partnership I am a part of by choice. As a thinking human being, I can choose for myself. I am not a damsel in distress.”

“That man is not your maker.”

“And that argument literally makes no sense. No person on Earth is my ‘maker’ unless you count my parents. Again, you’re trying to subjugate me with your arguments, put me at a lower level so you can ‘help’ me from on high. I don’t need your help.”

“And that’s why I’m gon’ take a good girl. I know you want it. You’re a good girl.”

“Really? You’re talking to me like I’m a dog you’re trying to train now?”

“Can’t let it get past me. You’re far from plastic. Talk about getting blasted.”

“It’s none of your business whether I or anyone else has had plastic surgery for any reason. You seem to be using a personal, private decision as a reason to rank people, which is absurd. Have you ever tried actually getting to know someone?”

“I hate these blurred lines. I know you want it. But you’re a good girl.”

“What ‘blurred lines’? I think you must be a victim of the ‘playing hard to get’ myth. It’s not real, man. When a woman says no, it doesn’t mean ‘Yes, if you try hard enough.’ Women aren’t the prize at the end of the video game of your life. Not only does no mean no, but yes is the only thing that means yes. If I’m telling you I don’t want it, that means you need to get out of my face.”

“The way you grab me, must wanna get nasty. Go ahead, get at me.”

“Dude, we were dancing. I’m sorry you read more into it than that.”

“What do they make dreams for, when you got them jeans on? What do we need steam for? You the hottest bitch in this place.”

“Look. It is flattering to have someone find me attractive, but I find the way you are expressing it problematic. Based on what you just said, it sounds like you’re primarily interested in me because I look a certain way. You’re so interested you’re willing to break up a relationship. Like I said before, we’re people, not animals. Thinking beings. We have the ability to make decisions. Think about this situation and then decide whether you think it’s smart to go after someone who clearly isn’t interested. Also…I don’t know why you thought calling me a ‘bitch’ would help your case. And if you’re even listening to what I’m saying here, please stop ranking women by looks, at least out loud. I don’t care about being the hottest woman. I don’t want to be in competition like that with other women. I want a relationship based on mutual attraction and respect, not a system of points-scoring.”

“I feel so lucky. You wanna hug me. What rhymes with hug me?”

“…first of all, no. Second of all, I’m sorry, but did you think that was clever?”

Robin, getting nowhere, lapses into silence. At this moment T.I. steps up.

“One thing I ask of you, let me be the one you back that ass to. Go, from Malibu, to Paris, boo.”

“I’m sorry, I’m in a relationship.”

“Yeah, I had a bitch, but she ain’t bad as you, so hit me up when you passing through. I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Again with calling women ‘bitch’ and comparing me to other women, with added vulgarity for…what, emphasis? Gee, I am very impressed by the size of your penis, sir, and I want nothing more than for you to inflict bodily harm on me with it. Hmm, since you guys seem to have trouble comprehending the English language, that was sarcasm.”

“Swag on, even when you dress casual, I mean it’s almost unbearable. In a hundred years not dare would I pull a Pharcyde, let you pass me by.”

“So basically no matter what I say to you, you are not going to leave me alone.”

“Nothing like your last guy, he too square for you. He don’t smack that ass and pull your hair like that.”

“Excuse me. First of all, my relationship is none of your business. Second, if all you can bring to the table is a little echo of BDSM, I don’t see why you think you will convince me to leave a relationship.”

“So I’m just watching and waitin’ for you to salute the true big pimpin’. Not many women can refuse this pimpin’. I’m a nice guy, but don’t get confused, this pimpin’.”

“Oh, I’m not confused at all. And I’m not interested.”

At this point Robin tries again.

“Shake your rump! Get down, get up-a! Do it like it hurt, like it hurt. What, you don’t like work?”

“Are you seriously telling me how to dance right now? Am I your puppet? Hint: The answer is no.”

“Baby can you breathe? I got this from Jamaica. It always works for me, Dakota to Decatur, uh huh.”

“Dude, get away from me. I don’t do drugs.”

“No more pretending. Cause now you winning. Here’s our beginning.”

“Security!”