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If Taylor Swift Wrote Our Journal Entries, Sabrina Carpenter Writes Our Drunk Texts

If you’ve ever romanticised a man for doing the dishes (the bare minimums), this album is for you.

| Vishakha Punjabi
Sabrina Carpenter

At some point, Taylor Swift was always going to put the pen down on heartbreak. She’s engaged, she’s glowing, and she’s probably writing love songs that sound like forever, which is beautiful for her (I am so happy and obsessed). For us? It leaves a vacuum. What do the girlies scream-sing in the Uber home now that Swift is happy? Who’s giving us the soundtrack to our bad decisions, situationships, and 2 AM drunk texts?

Enter Sabrina Carpenter. With Man’s Best Friend, she’s stepped into that role not by copying anyone but by making heartbreak unserious. This is tragedy flipped into comedy. These are songs that know exactly how stupid we get about men and then laugh in our faces for it.

Take Tears. The lyric that went viral: “Baby, just do the dishes, I’ll give you what you want.” At first, it’s funny. Then it’s depressingly real. Because yes, in the year 2025, domestic labour is still hot when men actually do it. Carpenter is winking at us, but she’s also exposing how low the bar is — and how we still fall for it.

Or My Man on Willpower, where she skewers the boyfriend who’s so into therapy and biohacking that he’s basically celibate. Relatable. Hilarious. A little too real. These aren’t just songs, they’re case studies in modern dating — the kind your therapist would tell you to stop repeating, only now with a hook you’ll hum for three weeks.

But then you hit We Almost Broke Up Again, and suddenly the comedy sharpens. The instrumentation is jittery, the lyrics almost too self-aware. It captures the mess of fighting with someone you love: dramatic at midnight, fine by breakfast, doomed by next week. It’s not polished heartbreak; it’s the chaos of trying to leave and not quite managing it. A song that sounds like your best friend’s voice note after a night out: shaky, funny, a little unhinged — and absolutely true.

Further down, Nobody’s Son flips into a lighter register, pure serotonin. It’s catchy in that effortless way that makes you want to hit repeat before it’s even over. The opposite energy comes with Never Getting Laid, which plays like a punchline stretched into a full track. It drags slightly in the verses but lands with a chorus that turns celibacy into camp. Only Carpenter could make sexual frustration sound this cheeky.

And then there’s Go Go Juice, the jewel of the album. It’s not just a drunk-texting anthem, it’s a group therapy session disguised as a party chant. The chorus — “Do you me still love?” — is chaotic genius. We’ve all sent a version of that text. The beauty of Carpenter is that she doesn’t frame it as pathetic. She frames it as communal. Embarrassment becomes an inside joke we’re collectively in on.

That’s the thing: Carpenter’s provocation isn’t really about men at all. It’s about women reclaiming the narrative. The cover art, the explicit labels, the IKEA-sex innuendos — they’re not designed to scandalise us. They’re camp, they’re for the girls and the gays, and if you’re still offended? That’s just your internalised misogyny talking.

Swift gave us heartbreak as poetry. Carpenter is giving it back to us as performance art. The laugh is the point. The point is also the critique. Pop doesn’t need to be solemn to be smart, and Man’s Best Friend is proof.

So yes, Swift might be in her domestic bliss era. But Carpenter is here for the rest of us: the messy ones, the funny ones, the ones still trying (and failing) not to text our exes. And honestly? That feels like the parasocial relationship we all needed.

Also Read:

From 'Man's Bestfriend' To 'Short n' Sweet': Dress Like Your Fav Sabrina Carpenter Album

Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘Manchild’ Is Going To Heal My Single Girl Era

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