I wish I'd had Carmina Barrios as my mother-in-law: my fantasy

Listen to what I'm telling you: there are mothers-in-law you get and mothers-in-law you'd choose. The song starts with the first kind, with a last husband I ended things with terribly and an ex-mother-in-law best not mentioned. Naturally she takes her son's side, that's understandable. What's unbearable is her arguments.

I love the moment when the lyrics raise a hand and stop the conversation dead: ladies, gentlemen, stop, stop, just a moment. It's the offended-diva instant we all carry inside, finished off with a line that has zero humility and makes me laugh precisely for that reason: you are not talking to an idiot.

And then comes the fantasy. The chorus is a soap-opera dream with a happy ending: lunch in the garden with Carmina Barrios, in the company of Paco León, «mi chiquitín» ("my little one"), celebrating our fourteenth anniversary. It's an invented family, impossible and wonderful, built from the affection so many of us feel for that genuine, hilarious mother we got to know on screen.

The fantasy also has its avenging side. In that dream world, the couple files a lawsuit in court against Eduardo Inda for publishing some supposed intimate photos and gives the OkDiario crowd a proper telling-off. It's all part of the song's imaginary script, the one about the perfect son-in-law who also has the fiercest mother-in-law in Seville backing him up. There are no real events behind it; it's pure wishful thinking in the key of a variety-show copla.

What I like about this song is that it mixes spite with tenderness. Under the joke there's a very serious question: what would have happened if my partner's family had really loved me? Many LGBTQ+ people know what it's like to have in-laws who look at you sideways, and dreaming of a Carmina is a lovely way to heal that wound.

Dedicate it to your ex-mother-in-law, if you dare. Or better, to the good mother-in-law you do have, so she knows what she's worth.

The full lyrics are below. Listen on Spotify