Marrakech – But every time “Jolene” comes on — the twangy, haunting plea from one woman to another — I find myself shouting back at the speakers, “Girl… why are you begging?”
“Please don’t take him just because you can,” Dolly sings. But in the year of our Lord 2025, if someone’s that easy to take, why are we fighting to keep them?
Let’s call it what it is: Jolene wasn’t the villain. She was the red flag in rhinestones.
What if we rewrote the story? Same Jolene, same man, same cheekbones and auburn hair… but a different woman behind the mic.
One who isn’t crying into her pillow, but into her passport stamps. One who sees competition and simply opts out.
Because I don’t know about you, but I’m no longer begging anyone to stay.
If my man’s loyalty can be swayed by a pretty face and a pair of stilettos, then I’m not competing — I’m clapping. For her, not for him.
Jolene? Take him. I insist. I’ll even throw in his hoodie and the charger he keeps stealing from me.
Somewhere along the way, we got this idea that love is a war. That we have to fight, to protect, to plead.
But maybe the most radical act of self-love is choosing not to fight at all.
Maybe it’s saying:
“I’m not scared of losing you. I’m scared of losing me trying to keep you.”
Because if you’re waking up every day wondering if she’ll text him back, if she’s prettier, funnier, more Jolene-y… then he’s already gone.
And honestly? Good riddance. You deserve someone who isn’t up for auction every time someone smiles at him in a bar.
So here’s my version of the song:
Not desperate, not devastated, not defeated.
But done.
In my Jolene, the woman wins not by keeping the man — but by keeping her peace.
She thanks Jolene for the unintentional heads-up and walks away like a woman who knows her worth and has a backup date with herself and a dirty martini.
Because in 2025, we don’t beg.
We block, bounce, and book flights.
And to that, I say: Cheers, Jolene. You actually did me a favor.
