En route to a meeting in the Bowery last week I listened to the Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” on repeat no less than six times. I love this song. (Go ahead, EVG. Make fun of me.) What I love most is its incredibly poignant and prescient message of relationship politics in 21st century New York City (and perhaps everywhere, but as I have now lived here a year I cannot imagine any other place in the entire world being a desirable center of culture, activity, and, yes, romance). My argument follows.
You are my fire, my one desire.
Believe when I say that I want it that way.
This is a tricky first line. The narrator (whom I will henceforth refer to as A.J.) insists to his lady that he loves her, but he is very defensive of his honesty, a tactic I find suspicious. He stresses his authority: Believe him, lady, when he says what he says about ways that he wants.
But we are two worlds apart.
Can’t reach to your heart when you say that I want it that way.
Now, folks, in just the second stanza we are off to the races. A.J. wants it that way, but he can’t see eye-to-eye with his lady when she says that she wants it that way. And therein lies the crux of every problem that every woman will have when choosing a mate in Manhattan.
Further proof of phenomenon in the chorus:
I never want to hear you say that I want it that way.
If I (hypothetically) were to call my fellow on the telephone (which, let’s be honest, will never happen, as long as he has a cellular mobile system, through which I will deploy every other form of communication that does not require the use of my voice), if I were to call him and say, “Dear, our relationship should be like this. And this is how I want it done. I want it that way,” he would (hypothetically) respond with, “Please go fuck yourself. I never want to hear you say that you want it that way.”
But when Fellow gets the itch to take me out fancy or express himself and how much he adores me, he will call (or text or email or throw fairy dust), and he will say, “Darling! I want it that way!”
But he didn’t want it that way when I wanted it that way.
He needed to come to the conclusion on his own that that way is the best way.
He never wants to hear me say that I want it that way because that places far too much pressure on him. “WOMAN, I CAN ONLY PRIORITIZE ONE ITEM AT A TIME.”
I have observed my girl friends struggle with this dilemma for time immemorial, and the only advice I can give (not that I should be doling out advice on relationships at all) is to sit back, plot your stealth moves on the great chess board of life, and choose carefully those moments when you say, rashly, that you want it that way, because odds are very good that your own A.J. will not want you to want it that way even if he wants it that way, and eventually he will concede defeat (and you will get your way), or he will echo Lindsay Buckingham, point to the front door, and tell you not so politely that you can go your own way.
