I want you. I need you. But there ain’t no way I’m ever going to love you…now don’t be sad cuz two out of three ain’t bad…

Those epic (?) lyrics were sung by Meatloaf waaaaay back in 1977. Meatloaf was one of the few pop stars I DIDN’T have a crush on in the seventies (for fairly obvious reasons) and I have to say I was never a huge fan of any of his songs either, at least not back then. Meatloaf struck me as crude, rude and lewd and about as far away from Barry Manilow singing “Mandy” as humanly possible. But “Two out of Three” has been popping into my head lately and the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to believe that ol’ Meatloaf pretty much nailed it with that one. If only teenage girls, and boys too, would LISTEN to the lyrics and realize that whoever wrote them was dead on right about the majority of relationships. Seriously, who can argue with this?

I know you’re looking for a ruby
In a mountain of rocks
But there ain’t no Coupe de Ville hiding
At the bottom of a Cracker Jack box…

So it’s not exactly one of Shakespeare’s sonnets but just imagine all of the angst—not to mention years and years of therapy—adolescents everywhere could save themselves if only they followed Meatloaf’s sage advice. The guy doesn’t exactly sugarcoat his opinions. He’s laying it all on the line and in today’s world of double and triple speak, I think that’s pretty neat as well as wonderfully refreshing.

Then I started thinking that Meatloaf’s words of wisdom could be applied to other scenarios. Like work. How many of us obsess over our jobs to the point of despair? How many of us go home every night and ruminate over what someone said—or didn’t say—to us while at the office? How many of us have little voodoo dolls dressed up like their co-workers—OK, probably not too many of us do that but my point is that work gets the best hours of our days, weeks, lives. Our bosses want us to be at our desks every day. They need us to do our work but we all know that they are never REALLY going to love us. I’d go as far to say that most of our bosses won’t even remember our names two weeks after we’ve left for greener pastures. So if we could just remember what Meatloaf said about love and attach it to work, I’m guessing we’d be able to do a whole lot less ruminating and voodoo doll poking and a whole lot more messing around on Facebook when we should be, well, working.

Then there’s food. The Pepperidge Farm coconut cake currently residing in my freezer while waiting for a special occasion such as Arbor Day is actually singing to me. I hear its little coconutty voice, softly crooning I want you. I need you. But there ain’t no way I’m ever going to love you…And it’s true! That coconut cake does want me to devour it. It needs for me to eat it before it goes bad. But it doesn’t really love me. It doesn’t quite hate me but it does scorn me for my weakness when it comes to not having any self-control the moment the refrigerator light pops on as well as for my myriad of comfort food issues. Ditto for potato chips, diet soda and anything residing on McDonald’s Dollar Menu and/or in the deep freeze.

How about new cars? Or even used cars? Drive past the local car lot in your unflashy but dependable and all paid for clunker, spot an adorable SUV winking at you and it hits you again. Your rational mind knows you can’t really afford car payments but your irrational mind orders you to turn on the radio to the oldies station and what should blare out but Meatloaf singing I want you…I need you…but there ain’t no way I’m ever going to love you. It’s clearly a sign that not only should you buy that cute SUV, but you should also finance it for eight or nine years just to keep the payments low. It doesn’t matter that in the end you’re going to end up paying more in interest than the car cost. All that matters is that the SUV comes home with you and that you love it, not the stark and painful fact that it’s never, ever going to love you.

Who would ever have thunk it back in 1977? Meatloaf: crude, rude and lewd philosopher extraordinaire. Even more amazing; he’s right–two out of three AIN’T all that bad!