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Hey There, My Name Is Delilah, And I’d Like To Make A Complaint
I’ve never even been to New York City.
Yeah, so, whenever I meet a guy and I introduce myself, the guy inevitably gets this bright look in his eyes and says, “Hey there, Delilah.”
And he’ll act like he’s the first person to make the connection between my name and that annoying song which even now, fifteen years later, seems to be playing on every radio every minute of every god damned day.
Do I sound bitter?
Well, I am bitter. I am tired. And I am sick.
Sometimes the guy, after opening with that incredibly unwitty witticism, will follow it up with, “What’s it like in New York City?”
Then he’ll look at me expectantly as if I’m supposed to give him a prize or something.
“Heh heh,” I will say, without smiling. And I hope that will be the end of it. But sometimes, it goes even farther into the land of banality, and this guy who thinks he’s so clever will top it off with:
“Oh, it’s what you do to me… oh, it’s what you do to me…”
Um, this is basically sexual harassment, am I right? I meet a guy, and three seconds later he’s singing this, which is basically saying out loud that I’m giving him a hard-on. And this…
