By Mike Sain't Louis ·
Me fuí sin correrme: when he falls asleep, she decides
He promised a lot. Then he fell asleep. And she, instead of staring at the ceiling waiting for him to wake up, got dressed and left.
That's how simple the story this song tells is, and that's how big what lies behind it is. There's no drama, no slammed door. The protagonist leaves without anger, without guilt and without asking anyone's permission, and when she gets home she decides to finish the night on her own. With her own hands, if you see what I mean.
The title, which means "I Left Without Coming", gets straight to the point, the way a friend would tell it at the bar the next day. And that's precisely why it works. For a very long time women's pleasure has been told as something that depends on someone else, something you receive if you're lucky. Not here. Here the guy is almost a secondary character, a snoring gentleman, and she's the one in charge.
Touching yourself isn't a sin
That's what the song is about: breaking the silence that still surrounds female masturbation. Leaving behind the idea that the night is only good if someone else finishes it. Desiring yourself is also loving yourself, and you don't need to wait for anyone to have a happy ending.
I like that she's an ordinary girl, on an ordinary night, with an ordinary guy. No heroines or special cases: it could be any of us, because who hasn't been left halfway at some point? What changes is the reaction. Instead of frustration, autonomy. Instead of complaining, sorting it out.
It has that cheeky touch I love in PLANETA GAYFOLK songs, laughing at something many people are still embarrassed to name. And beneath the laughter there's a fairly serious message about the power a woman has when she makes decisions about her own body.
To listen to with friends, to play at a hen party or to dedicate, with all affection, to the one who fell asleep at the best bit.