Carlos Baute is a Poetic Liar

Early last year I watched a lot of Spanish tv. Over a period of about two weeks I saw the same blond Venezuelan actor/musician on a total of 3 television shows. I saw him on a morning show being interviewed. I saw him on Sabado Gigante. I saw him on Belleza Latina. And by the second time I saw him, I was in love. He was so cute and skinny and bright and knowing-looking. He kinda looked like a sunshiney bad boy. He had this toothy grin that blinged with white sparkle and he was always laughing.
So after enjoying the song he played on each show, I downloaded his whole cd. It became a fixture in my car's 6 cd changer. He sits in position number four, and has for an entire year. Right behind my three french rap cds, and before my Aventura cd.

All of his songs are love songs. Melodic and acoustic splashed 90's pop rhythm, the hooks on the songs have an amazing build and are a perfect compliment to a sunny day with your windows rolled down. Unlike American love songs, though, they're not about dirty sexy love. They're incredibly romantic. They talk about marriage and kids and the kinds of things every girl secretly wants to hear. I could have eaten Carlos Baute with a spoon! The whole idea that a guy was out there thinking those things made me giddy. Especially if the guy thinking them was as attractive as Carlos Baute.

One day, though, Daniel Castillo rained on my parade.

I was driving him to a soccer game and singing along to a song that sounded like this:

"Me quiero casar contigo.
Quiero dormir contigo.
Quiero que lleves mi apellido
Nuestros hijos, tu sonrisa.
Te quieres casar conmigo.
Quieres vivir conmigo.
Quiero pasar el resto de
mis dias con tu compania."
Which, of course, means:

I want to marry you.
I want to sleep with you.
I want to give you my last name
and give our children your smile.
Do you want to marry me?
Do you want to live with me?
I want to spend the rest
of my days with you.

"You like that song?" Daniel asked.
"YES!"
He paused for a second, pulling up his knee socks before saying, "I think maybe Carlos Baute is a liar with poetry."
I laughed. "A liar with poetry? Why! The whole cd follows a pattern, Daniel. Early tracks are about him falling in love with someone who is is best friend, and then they have an anniversary song, and he wants to marry her, and the last song is about always remembering those early good times together!"

Daniel's eyes grew wide, and I knew he was about to give me some major scoop. He had looked the same way when he was telling me about how Cristiano Ronaldo and Paris Hilton had sex in the back of a limousine. And how the pop artist Belinda (see pic below) had taken a fancy sports car in exchange for her virginity. Because, clearly, Daniel had been there. I rolled my eyes and braced for it.
"No no no... Carlos Baute, I see him interviewed on Don Francisco Presenta. And you know what he say?"
"What did he say?" I was already slumping. "I know he's not married. So whoever he's talking about, they didn't actually get married, but I thought..."
"Don Francisco ask him a question, like he ask everybody this same question. He say what is your favorite thing to do? What is your favorite time? And you know what Carlos Baute say???"
"What did he say..." Darn it, Daniel, I thought, you're gonna ruin it for me."
He say he like to take some girl and go some place, like tropical paradise place, and make a big vacation."
"Well... that's not so bad."
"Yes! Yes it is bad!" Daniel was not smiling at me. "You know why? It's because Carlos Baute say his favorite thing to do is make a big vacation and all he wanna do the whole time is mucho sexo and mucho comer. All he wants to do is have lots of sex and eat lots of food."
I laughed a little bit. "Really?"
"Yes. I saw him say this."
"Well, what about getting married and giving the girl his name and all that?"
"Nada. He wants sex and food."
"Ugh! ...he probably didn't mean it that way. He probably only does that with one woman. Not some woman."
"No, he says different women. All this things in his songs are big, big lies with poetry. He says anything for the girl to give him sex." I turned into the YMCA parking lot. "I'm sorry, Barbie."

So, Daniel was convinced Carlos Baute was a man-slut. And I was convinced he was beautiful. It is true that I often give people more credit than they are due. When I thought about it, though, Carlos Baute was really just the cover of a romance novel in my head. The stories he told in his songs were sweet and made me happy, and as I parked my car near the soccer field filled with Guatemalans and rich white people about to get their butts kicked, I decided I didn't care who Carlos Baute was in real life. As far as I was concerned, all his songs were about me.

To this day, I will listen to him with my windows rolled down, and my sun roof cracked open so the air blows through. I sip artificially sweetened coffee on ice, and sing along even when the people next to me at the red light stare. Daniel Castillo has come and gone, and left his dents, but Carlos Baute still loves me.

So I don't care if he's a poetic liar. Or if he beds a thousand Belinda's every night. When I play the cd, he loves me. He is what I want him to be. And that's all that really matters.