Baby, It's Cold Outside: A Story of Date Rape or Succumbing to Peer Pressure and the Threat of Gossip? AKA: an Overanalysis

I watched the Christmas episode of Glee last night. Kurt and Blaine sang a duet, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” One of the people I follow on Twitter mentioned that it’s the date rape anthem, but I didn’t really think anything of it until I really listened to the lyrics the characters were singing. Holy moly: super creepy. I posted about it on Facebook, and while most of the people who commented agreed, my friend Vera made the counterargument that the woman (for the sake of clarity, we’ll call it the woman’s part even though Chris Colfer knocked the singing out of the park) merely wishy-washy and a victim of societal expectations, and that the man is playing along with her fake reluctance. Here is my line-by-line analysis through both lenses:



HER LINE/HIS LINE/BOTH
GLASS HALF FULL INTERPRETATION
GLASS HALF EMPTY INTERPRETATION


I really can’t stay
She has to go
She has to go


But baby, it’s cold outside
He’d like her to stay
He’d like her to stay


I’ve got to go away
She has to go
She has to go

But baby, it’s cold outside
He’d still like her to stay
He’d still like her to stay


This evening has been...
She enjoys his company
She enjoys his company


Been hoping that you’d drop in
He’s open with his emotions
He’s been planning this for a while


...So very nice
She really enjoys his company
This is a cocktail party classic – a polite attempt to indicate the end

I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice
Holding hands is nice
He’s physically restraining her


My mother will start to worry
She doesn’t want to worry her mom
There are people who know where I am – you won’t get away with this


Beautiful, what’s your hurry?
He’s distracted by her beauty
He doesn’t care if her mom is worried


My father will be pacing the floor
She doesn’t want to worry her dad
Not just my mom knows – my dad knows, too


Listen to the fireplace roar
Fireplaces are romantic
He doesn’t care if her dad is worried. Dad must not have a gun.


So really, I’d better scurry
She’s got to go
She really needs to go


Beautiful, please don’t hurry
He’s really enjoying her company
He doesn’t care. Also, we have our fourth instance of referring to her not by her name -- possibly an attempt at depersonalization to make it easier for him to commit his planned crime


But maybe just half a drink more
She doesn’t really want to leave and needs an excuse to stay
This is where she really screws up


Put some records on while I pour
Everyone loves music, and they like the same kind
He doesn’t want her watching while he pours the drinks


The neighbors might faint
She’s only reluctant because of what other people might think
She’s reminding him that there are more witnesses


Baby, it’s bad out there
He’s concerned about her safety
He keeps using the weather as an excuse. Does he not have anything better?


Say, what’s in this drink?
She thinks the drink is delicious and wants to know what the secret ingredient is
RED ALERT!


No cabs to be had out there
It’s not safe for her to drive, and cabs are notoriously difficult to find during inclement weather – she should just hang out with him
Why doesn’t he offer to drive her home? Why is she dependent on cabs?

I wish I knew how...
She likes him so much…
Her mind is muddled from her roofied drink…


Your eyes are like starlight now
He thinks she’s really pretty and is open about saying so
The mickey he slipped her is causing her eyes to lose focus and water.


...To break this spell
…that she can’t tear herself away
…and she realizes the grave danger that she has stumbled into


I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell
Every woman worries about hat hair, and he’s so into her, he thinks hers is pretty
He’s starting to undress her!


I ought to say, “No, no, no sir”
This is what her mother taught her to do
She ought to, but she can’t because of the drugs


Mind if I move in closer?
He’s a gentleman who asks before invading personal space
He’s starting to overwhelm her physically


At least I’m going to say that I tried
If people ask, she’s not a total slut
She’s starting to worry whether this is going to stand up in court


What’s the sense in hurting my pride?
He’s sensitive
This is about him, his pride, and the notches in his bedpost


I really can’t stay
More of what her mother taught her to stay
She’s repeating herself in a desperate attempt to escape


Oh, baby, don’t hold out
He’d like her to make up her mind
He’s says this to all the girls he date rapes


Baby./oh, but it’s cold outside
It’s cold outside
He’s grateful for the excuse the weather has given him to keep her with him a little longer to execute his nefarious plans; she’s kicking herself for coming over without checking the weather report


I simply must go
Is there a glass half full aspect to this poor woman repeating that she wants to leave to no avail?
More repeating herself in the hopes that she’ll be able to leave unscathed


But baby, it’s cold outside
Or that this guy keeps ignoring her with weather reports?
More repeating of the dumbest excuse ever


The answer is no
No glass half full aspect to this one for sure
No means no


But baby, it’s cold outside
More sharing of the weather because she hasn’t noticed
It’s like he’s deaf and mentally challenged


This welcome has been...
She’s worried about what people will think and has resolved to leave
She’s trying politeness


How lucky that you dropped in
He’s enjoyed her visit very much
Yes, lucky that she stumbled into his death trap of a home


...So nice and warm
She enjoys his company
Still trying politeness and pretending


Look out the window at that storm
If she likes nice and warm, she’s not going to get that outside
It’s be raped or freeze to death

My sister will be suspicious
Her sister knows that she likes him
My sister knows where I am and whom I’m with


Gosh, your lips look delicious
He really thinks she’s pretty
The Cialis has kicked in and he’s deciding where to start


My brother will be there at the door
Her brother may interrupt them at an inopportune moment, embarrassing everyone involved
You won’t get away with this


Waves upon the tropical shore
He’s invoking warm locales to keep her warm
I have no idea – if it’s so cold outside, why is he talking about the beach?


My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious
Her aunt thinks she’s a slut as it is
My aunt will kill you in a violent and hideously unpleasant way if you do this


Gosh, your lips are delicious
He’s moved in for a kiss good night and enjoyed it tremendously
Despite her repeated attempts to leave and her overt refusal, he has kissed her


But maybe just a cigarette more
She enjoyed it too, and is looking for an excuse to extend her time with him
She’s hoping that if she keeps her mouth busy with something that can burn him, that will keep him away while she comes up with a plan to escape


Never such a blizzard before
The weather is truly bad, so she should stay
He knows what she’s trying and is telling her it won’t work because of the horrible storm


I’ve gotta get home
If the weather is so bad, she really should get home
She’s really, really, really desperate to leave


But baby, you’d freeze out there
He’s worried about her health and safety
He doesn’t care


Say lend me a coat
She’s requesting his help in maintaining her health and safety
She’s trying an appeal to his better side


It’s up to your knees out there
The situation is too dangerous even to lend a coat – it won’t help
He doesn’t have a better side


You’ve really been grand
She realizes that she’s run out of excuses and is trying more cocktail party techniques to bring the evening to an end
More appeals to his better side

I thrill when you touch my hand
More opening up of his emotions
All he can think about is his animalistic need


But don’t you see?
She recognizes his openness and appreciates it but is more worried about…
She’s trying an appeal to logic


How can you do this thing to me?
He’s hurt that she’d leave him at a critical juncture in their relationship, just when they were getting so close
Didn’t every boy try this excuse in high school? Blue balls won’t kill you. Really.


There’s bound to be talk tomorrow
…people’s cruel gossip
People will find out, and you’re going to be in trouble


Think of my lifelong sorrow...
He cares so much about her…
Is the logic working?


At least there will be plenty implied
They won’t be open about the gossip, they’ll just be really snide and hint
Even if they don’t say it openly, everyone will talk


...If you got pneumonia and died
…and her health, especially since this seems like the start of a beautiful relationship; he can see himself marrying her and having kids with her
No, the logic is not working. Apparently, it’s sleep with him or catch her death of pneumonia; it’s unclear whether he’ll be sorry that she died or that he never got to have sex with her

I really can’t stay
She still cares more about the gossipers
SHE HAS TO GO


Get over that holdout
He’d like her to get over the gossipers
He’s losing patience


Baby, /oh, but it’s cold outside
Everyone will accept cold weather as an excuse for snuggling
Cold weather is dangerous in so many different ways

Just When I Thought I Was a Feminist

I have a friend who blogged about Elin Nordegren and her divorce from Tiger Woods with a great deal of logic and grace and empathy. The empathy is easy to understand because my friend is going through something similar. Chelsea Handler made many of the same points, although perhaps less elegantly, on her talk show. The reasoning is that Elin got a fair amount because of the heartbreak she endured in such a public setting. Her family was irreparably broken, and no amount of money makes up for that, but it does buy her the ability to rebuild her life and to create as much consistency for her children as possible.

I understand all of that and agree with it, but there's a part of me that's not sympathetic. That's the cynical part that read in an article of Elin and Tiger's fairy tale romance that she came to the US specifically to meet a professional golfer. She was living her life in Sweden, when a friend of hers married a pro golfer. Elin came to the US ostensibly to work as her friend's nanny but the article made it clear that Elin quit school and took the nanny job because the friend made it clear that Elin could marry someone rich on the tour.

I don't doubt at all that she genuinely loved Tiger, and I don't doubt that her heart was actually broken, and I really don't doubt that she experienced incomprehensible levels of public humiliation. But I also don't doubt that Elin joined the PGA tour with a plan, and one way or another, that plan came to fruition. And it's the existence of that plan that makes it hard for me to have much sympathy for her.

Yet Another Short Play About Being 7

[CC has joined a gym so she can relearn how to swim. Mom has arranged for her to pay annual dues in one lump sum, but the membership won't be processed for a few days, so the rep on the phone recommended going to the website and printing a 7-day free pass that the gym offers to suck new people in.]

Mom: Here's a lock, and here's the combination.

CC: Thanks, Mom.

Mom: Also, here's a towel. Your swimsuit will be wet after you're finished, so wrap it up in the towel.

CC: Ok, Mom.

Mom: Also, here's a plastic bag -- you can put your towel and suit in it.

CC: Ok.

Mom: Here are some travel-sized toiletries for your shower.

CC: Ok.

Mom: Don't forget to tell the person at the front desk that you already have a membership, or they'll make you take a tour of the gym, and you'll be late for your lesson.

CC: Ok.

Mom: Write down this information: this is the name of the person I talked to, and this is her rep number.

CC: Ok.

Mom: Here's the phone number they can call if they have any questions.

CC: Ok.

Mom: The instructor's name is Kathy, and she's really nice.

CC: Ok.

Mom: Don't forget to tell them that you already have a membership, it just hasn't completed being processed.

CC: Yes, I know -- I'm on it. I have all the information written down. Bye!

[CC arrives at gym.]

CC: Hi! I have a 7-day pass, but --

Dude at front desk: Yeah, your mom called a few minutes ago. Go on back.

A Short Play About Why It Seems Like I'm Hard on Myself

CC: The swimming teacher said you're doing really well.

Mom: That's typically American -- you do one tiny thing right, and they heap on the praise. That's not the Asian way. We tell the truth.

A Short Play About Korean Sayings

[CC and Mom are in CC's office, trying to coordinate travel to LA for a family thing. CC has booked her aunt's and Mom's tickets with Mom looking over her shoulder the whole time and is in the process of booking her own travel. Mom's dialogue is translated from Korean.]

CC: OH, CRAP.

Mom: What's the matter?

CC: I think I might have booked Auntie's ticket as Hyun Bin Choe instead of Hyun Bin Song.

Mom: Can you go back and check?

CC: I don't have the confirmation number -- all of that stuff was e-mailed to you. Can you go check your e-mail?

Mom, after a couple of minutes: No e-mails yet. We can check tomorrow.

CC: CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP.

Mom: It's ok. Even monkeys fall out of trees every now and then.

A Short Play About the Buckshot

[CC and Kevin walk into the Buckshot.]

CC, breathing in: It smells like every dive bar I went to in college -- fried food and old beer.

Kevin: It smells like beer and ass. Awesome!

A Short Play About the Language of Underwear

[CC & Mom have returned to the hotel room from dinner in San Jose, CA.]

Mom: People who like cold weather must love it here.

CC: Yeah. A lot of people love it here.

Mom: Even though it's cold outside, people are wearing thongs.

CC: Mom, these days, thongs refer to underwear. I think you probably want to say flip-flops.

Mom: Flip-flops?

CC: Flip-flops.

Mom: That's a made up American word!

CC: Yes, it is, but it will get you into less trouble

Mom: So thongs are t-strings.

CC, cracking up: G-strings.

Mom: But they look like a T! Why do they call them g-strings?

CC, almost unintelligible because of the laughter: I don't know. But they're different from thongs.

Mom: How are they different?

CC: G-strings have a skinny piece of cloth, like a string. Thongs have a little more material.

Mom: Ohhhh. Ok. Flip-flops, thongs, and g-strings.

CC: Yes.

Mom: I've seen people wear the thongs at the gym to make sure their butts look good. I can understand that.

A Short Play About Mary, Beth, and Joseph (or Maybe Marybeth and Joseph)

[CC & Judith are catching up on the phone.]

JW: Hey, I read the CLC HBR article.

CC: The one on hipos and hipers?

JW: Yeah!

CC: The whole thing?

JW: Yes, the whole thing.

CC: How?

JW: Well, I don't have a subscription because it's too expensive, but you can go on the San Francisco library site and read the entire issue there.

CC: Does HBR know about this?

JW: Well, yeah, they must. The library has a license. And you have to enter your library card number.

CC: Ohhh... that makes way more sense.

JW: They don't let just any Mary, Beth, and Joseph read what they want.

CC: ...

JW: ...

CC: Do you mean Tom, Dick, and Harry? Who the f* are Mary, Beth, and Joseph?

JW: Yeah, I don't know where they came from.

A Short Play About One Taxi Driver's Theory About Why I'm Not Married

[Scene: Red Top taxicab in Northern Virginia. There's a story on the radio about the return of Tiger Woods to golf. The taxi driver maintains that Tiger made a "mistake." CC maintains that having sex with multiple, dirty women is not a mistake and that Tiger should have stayed single if he wanted to screw all the cocktail waitresses on the PGA tour.]

Taxi driver: You're not a forgiving person.

CC: I am a forgiving person.

Taxi driver: But you wouldn't forgive Tiger's one mistake.

CC: I would forgive shrinking my clothes in the dryer. THAT's a mistake. What Tiger did is not "one mistake."

Taxi driver: Are you married?

CC: No.

Taxi driver: That's why.

CC: I'm ok with that.

Another Short Play About Being 7

Scene: Dining table, Choe household, 10pm. CC is eating a late dinner because all the spring breakers were clogging up the restaurants at IAH.

Mom: It's really good when you put a little of this, a little of that, a piece of this, and a slice of that all in one spoonful.

CC: Ok.

Mom, anxious for CC to try the ideal bite, decides that CC is moving too slowly with a piece of this and a slice of that, and puts them on CC's spoon for her. CC starts cracking up so hard she almost blows food out her nose.

Mom, starting also to laugh: I can't help it! You're my kid! You'll always be 7 to me!

CC, barely able to breathe: I've been writing notes about the things that you and Dad say to me and putting them on Facebook. My friends think you're really cute.

Mom: Like what?

CC: Like the thing about buying me strawberries and you not being able to get up at 4:15, and will I be able to wake up and get breakfast by myself.

Dad, very sincerely: Cat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Two Short Plays Featuring My Mom

Mom (after she and Dad have come back from a birthday party): We felt bad about leaving you at home by yourself, so we went to the store and bought you some strawberries.

------------

Mom: What time is your flight?

CC: 6:30.

Mom: IN THE MORNING?

CC: Yes.

Mom: What time are you going to leave?

CC: 5 or 5:15.

Mom: What time are you going to wake up??

CC: 4 or 4:15.

Mom: Cat, I can't wake up that early. Will you be ok? Can you get up by yourself and eat breakfast?

A Short Play About Being 7

Mom: How old are you again?

CC: ...

Mom: 37, right? That makes you about 7 to me.

[Later on, after CC has made a cappuccino for Mom and a long espresso for Dad, CC is making hot chocolate for herself.]

Mom: What are you having?

CC: Hot chocolate.

Mom: Isn't that sugary?

CC: Yes... so?

Mom: Well, I guess that's ok. It's suits someone who's 7.

[Even later in the evening, as CC is trying to explain the jacked up menus of the updated Microsoft Office to Mom.]

CC, muttering under her breath: No 7-year-old could teach you this.

Mom: Are you kidding? These days, 3-year-olds can do this.

A Short Play About Why My Parents Watched Olympic Figure Skating

CC: What are you watching?

Dad: English soccer highlights.

CC: ...

CC: Who's your favorite team?

Dad: Manchester United.

CC: ...

CC: Why is Manchester United your favorite team?

Dad [laughing]: Because that's the team that the Korean guy is on.

A Short Play About Living at Home *

Mom: CAT! CAT! ARE YOU READY TO GO? ARE YOU PACKED AND DRESSED? DID YOU PACK YOUR SISTER'S M&MS?

CC: M-

Mom: OH, YOU'RE UP AND DRESSED! ARE YOU GOING TO LEAVE WITHOUT EATING BREAKFAST?

CC: I'm making some coff--

Mom: IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE WEARING ON THE PLANE? DON'T YOU KNOW HOW COLD IT WILL BE IN CHICAGO AND NEW YORK? NEW YORK AND CHICAGO ARE VERY COLD! MAYBE YOU SHOULD PACK A SWEATER!

CC: I have a fleece and a cashmere sc--

Mom: I FRIED TWO EGGS FOR YOU. IS THAT YOUR SUITCASE? IT'S SO SMALL! DO YOU HAVE ROOM FOR ANOTHER SWEATER? HOW COME YOUR SUITCASE IS SO SMALL?

CC: I--

Mom: WHY AREN'T YOU WEARING A COAT? DO YOU NEED GLOVES? DO YOU HAVE YOUR AIRPLANE TICKET?

CC: My coat's right there. I'm insi--

Mom: IS THAT COAT GOING TO BE WARM ENOUGH? LET ME TRY IT ON.

CC: ...

Mom: OH, IT'S VERY WARM. GOOD! WHERE DID YOU BUY THIS COAT? DID YOU PACK SOCKS? YOU'RE NOT WEARING JEANS TO YOUR MEETING, RIGHT? DID YOU PACK OTHER CLOTHES FOR YOUR MEETING.

CC: ...

Dad: I put the bags in the car.

Mom, as CC is driving away: DO YOU HAVE MONEY FOR THE TAXI IN NEW YORK?

* I stole the idea for short plays from Tara Ariano, a totally awesome blogger whom you should Google. You can also see her work at www.sling.com/blog.

I Am Not Good at This

I've always thought the best job in the world would be "author" or "writer." Guess what? I don't have the discipline to do it, as is very clearly evinced by the big chunks of time that come between blog posts here. (Still, how awesome would it be to write stuff and make money doing it? I would never have to get out of my pjs, EVER. Ninety percent of my wardrobe could be pjs!)

To be fair, I write more regularly on FB (someone told me that someone else said that Facebook was my new blog), but I don't feel obligated to write as much there, and it's much more stream of consciousness. You can't even call it a stream -- it's more of a droplet of consciousness.

Anyway, to assuage some guilt, I'm going to repost some of the longer things I posted over there. For any crossover friends, sorry for the reruns!