Almodóvar, or a drama not even Pedro at his best would dare to film

Don't get me started. With that threat, typical of a neighbour with inside information, Almodóvar begins, and what follows is a comparison as exaggerated as it is delicious: what happened, not even Almodóvar in his best days would film.

The song takes Pedro Almodóvar's cinema as the universal measure of melodrama. If your story beats his films, it's a big one. And the narrator is sure of it. I find it funny because it's the way many of us queers talk about our own breakups: comparing them to film scenes, to women on the verge of a nervous breakdown, to high heels.

Then comes my favourite line: this pain is heavier than a Goya. I love it because it mixes the emotional with the physical, the bronze statuette that really is heavy, and because it turns suffering into something almost award-worthy. If pain were a prize, this one would take it home.

The cause of the disaster is stated bluntly and with just the right amount of vulgarity: all because he was thinking with his cock. No further explanation. No elaborate betrayals or plot twists, just the usual reason.

And then, the chorus. «Ya no te quiero» ("I don't love you any more"), with the vowels stretched out to infinity, like a copla lament or a folclórica's cry in the final act. It repeats and repeats, and each time it sounds less like sadness and more like liberation. It's the way you convince yourself: by saying it many times, very loud and very long.

I like that the song is so brief in words and so big in gesture. It's pure scene, pure pose, pure melodrama in false eyelashes.

For me it's the ideal soundtrack for leaving a relationship with your head held high and a little bit of theatre. Dedicate it to that ex who thinks he's the lead in a film and doesn't know he was only a supporting role. And if you feel like it, play it while you do your lipstick in front of the mirror.

The full lyrics are below. Listen on Spotify