John Mayer and other overrated white guys

I was 16 years old in the spring of 2002. It was a rough time to be alive, with 9/11 blindsiding us during my sophomore year of high school. But more importantly for the topic of this post, it was a rough time to be a girl. After the mid-90s rise of Lilith Fair, feminist 'zines, and Sassy magazine, our cultural gatekeepers at places like Rolling Stone decided they'd had enough of this feminist crap. What we needed right now was Britney Spears on the cover of aforementioned magazine in her underwear clutching a stuffed animal, in a nod to "pedophilia chic" - one of the grossest cultural trends of the early 2000s. In any event, truly talented singer-songwriters like Fiona Apple were out. Smug white guys with guitars and pretentious NPR voices were ascendant.

John Mayer, in my opinion, has always been the worst of the worst. In 2002, he flooded the airwaves with these trite nonsense lyrics, and brooding, pretentious d-bags everywhere ate it up.

I wanna run through the halls of my high school

I wanna scream at the top of my lungs

I just found out there's no such thing as the real world

Just a lie you got to rise above

Man, that's DEEP. I mean, not to me, but apparently to pseudointellectual college freshmen who are, as one of my friends likes to say, "High on their own farts." As an alumna of a hippie-friendly college in Appalachia with a local hangout called "Bong Hill," I believe we call these "pot thoughts."

I can't stand John Mayer. His worst song ever was some horrible song called "Comfortable," which is equal parts trite and pompous. Mayer croons about an imaginary girl who bombs around in hood rat clothes but also knows the names of some obscure jazz artists from the 1940s. (At least, that's who I think they are. Don't know, don't care--and I doubt Mayer does either, being one of those guys who thinks throwing out some obscure jazz names makes him sound artsy.) Throughout the song, Mayer is comparing the aforementioned hood rat to a girl he's sleeping with, despite appearing to hate her. The most barf-worthy part is this:

She thinks I can't see the smile that she's faking

And poses for pictures that aren't being taken

I loved you

Grey sweat pants, no makeup, so perfect

Ah, John Mayer loves a woman rocking the "natural look." I wonder if that includes hairy legs and a huge 1970s bush.

Anyway, it gets grosser from there, with Mayer claiming he's sleeping with a supermodel-looking woman who "only reads the Bible," and whom he also can't stand. Which is the first giveaway this whole story is fake: if she only reads the Bible, why is she casually bedding this douche? And did he ever contemplate how one goes about using a woman for sex while remaining a soulful, sensitive intellectual?

Throughout my teen years, women swooned over Mayer, although whether this was sincere or just a put-on to impress their douchey boyfriends is a question I can't answer. In reality, John Mayer is a jerk. He clearly knows he's a jerk. As I wrote on my blog years ago,

The perfect example of a sexist a--hole--who, based on the interviews I've read, is also a flaming idiot--who sings about the evils of makeup is John Mayer. He wrote a song in 2002 called "Comfortable," claiming he loves girls in grey sweatpants with no makeup. Weak-minded women swooned.

He then ran off to date Jessica Simpson. So it seems the man who pretended to love bare faces and grey sweatpants actually wanted a busty blonde with eyelash extensions who's forced to pretend it's "natural." After the breakup, Mayer demonstrated his respect for women by bragging to Playboy magazine, of all places, about his sex life with Jessica, spilling personal details that anyone would find degrading. What a charmer! I have no doubt that Mayer singled out Jessica Simpson for this humiliation because of her bubbly blonde, ultra-feminine persona. "Male feminist" my ass. After seeing his true colors fly in Playboy, I'm truly shocked that he didn't hit her.

And, to be honest, Jessica Simpson, now a mother of three who is in recovery from alcoholism, has more deep shit to say than Mayer ever did. Jessica is down-to-earth and candid; Mayer is still giving off a strong whiff of narcissist as he remains childless and unmarried in his late 40s.

This post is supposed to be about my "least favorite song," but technically, it isn't: this is the one song of John Mayer's that I like. I find it refreshing in its honesty, with lyrics and a video where Mayer finally admits its not the women he's bedding. Maybe he's been the problem all these years.