They’re written for teenage girls, right? (Over 18, of course.)

For little pink things with pink cell phones text-messaging each other about parties and the proper way to give a blowjob (in a nutshell, girls, watch the teeth. Men are real crybabies about shit like that.)

Yet why do gay men — fully grown ones well, well out of their late-onset teens (which for a gay man means he’s about 30) — why do gay guys often quote these twiddling, diddling lyrics at you like they are bridging some shimmering chasm of profundity, which mere words, un-levitated by string sections, could never span?

Why, you chucklehead 30-year-olds — why?

And why do the same soppy lyrics crop up in farewell letters and over long-distance phone lines and in coffee shops where first-lovers stare sadly– and with such large, glistening corneas — into each other’s eyes?

Must the lyrics always come from the songs of innocence, never the songs of experience? Never from say, that snappy little toe-tapper by Peggy Lee, Is That All There Is?

Basically, or at least symbolically, here’s what you get when you eavesdrop on song lyrics in coffee shops (as I do, to my grief):

As those of us know who grew up on Bye Bye Birdie, the first musical, long before Grease, to spoof teenage pop music (and from which, the Telephone Hour, above, comes), all teen songs, and by extension, all love songs, can be boiled, drained and de-treacled down into two basic adolescent messages: Hugo pinned Kim. And, is he really breaking up with her?

Pinning, by the way, does not mean what you think it means, boys and girls of the 21st Century. It means that a jock has given his varsity pin to a cheerleader. Actually it does mean what you think, as pinning was the gentle precursor, in the 60’s, of what now would require a blowjob and a spring break in Cancun. Then it was a kind of teen-world equivalent to an engagement ring. The Stylistics summed up both these themes in one of their typically slushy songs: the falsetto frontman yearned, throughout the refrain, to ‘break up to make up.” Such was the joy of a torrid fuck after the tears.

We are not alone — we cranky old geezers — in this snit. No, we are joined proudly by Lynne Truss, bestselling author of Talk to the Hand, a witty, and very British (kooky British, not royal British) take on 21st Century foibles. Subtitle: The Utter Bloody Rudeness of the World Today, or Six Good Reasons to Stay Home and Bolt the Door. Ms. Truss writes:

So is it true that people who need people are the luckiest people in the world? Mm. I suppose there are several profound-sounding axioms thrown up by popular culture that I consider completely inane and this is one of them. Here is a short list of the worst offenders:

1. People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.
2. Love means never having to say you’re sorry.
3. Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.

Taking these in reverse order, life can certainly be full of possibilities and surprises, but the analogy between life and a box of chocolates breaks down almost immediately because you do know what you’re going to get with a box of chocolates, actually, if you can be bothered to consult the diagrams that are either supplied on a handy loose sheet or printed inside the lid. Forest Gump’s catch line should have been, “Life is a like a box of chocolates and if you’re sensible you will avoid the cracknels or anything with a bit of candied peel on top.”

Meanwhile, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” is the counsel of a scoundrel, to say the least.

And as for people who need people — can you imagine a condition less fortunate? “I need people,” they must cry aloud at street corners. “Tough cheese!” comes the general reply.

Perhaps the lyric actually means that the desperately lonely have a good winning record at the backjack table or the race track. Perhaps croupiers are taught to spot the tell-tale signs of people who need people during the basic training (sighing, weeping, yearning, etc.), and to deal to them automatically from the bottom of the deck.

In poker games on Mississippi river boats, everyone scatters at the warning, “People-who-need-people boarding at Baton Rouge!”

“Dang, they are the luckiest people in the whole danged world,” says a chap in a fancy waistcoat, quickly scooping his chips into his hat …

Though it would be hard — okay, impossible — to decide which was the dumbest pop lyric ever written, the one that comes immediately (and often) to mind is

No shit, Sherlock. I bet you believe the sky is blue too. And we haven’t even begun to take that silly song apart. Let us just remember that in it, “the greatest love of all” is — but, of course — loving yourself to little itty bits.

It is — and this is unique — a love song, but to yourself.

Our favorite take down of the song occurs in the middle of the movie American Psycho. The main character, a beautiful man played by the beautiful Christian Bale, at right, is of course as mad as a hatter, driven that way — so this dark comedy suggests — by status seeking, prestige labels and one too many face peels. Appropriately, the film is set in the “Greed is Good” 1980’s, though it was filmed in the “Irony is Funny” 2000’s.

One thing about the hero, he takes pop culture very seriously. Throughout the film, he regularly analyzes the meaning of some current ’80’s hit — his riff on It’s Hip to Be Square is one of the film’s major bon-bons, but beside the point here — and he dissects these songs so acutely that their absurd, dysfunctional black hearts are laid bare. After which — as a sort of relief — he usually goes berserk and takes a chainsaw to the guest, but that too is beside the point. Exactly on the point is his never-to-be-topped explication of The Greatest Love of All.

“Did you know,” he asks his date in low sultry tones as they sit on the bed, his eyes going a bit blank, “that Whitney Houston’s debut LP … called simply Whitney Houston … had four number-one singles on it? Did you know that, Christie?”

Date can’t suppress a giggle. “You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You … you own a Whitney Houston CD? More than one?”

Knowing the Christian Bale character as we do by this point, a latticework of fingers rushes up to our face. This was not a wise reaction, Christie.

But the Bale character is unruffled. A seductive hush creeps over his voice as he continues in deep, manly tones. ” It’s hard to choose a favorite among so many great tracks … but The Greatest Love of All … is one of the best, most powerful songs ever written … about self-preservation — dignity.

And again a shiver goes down the spine. The actor hasn’t blinked for a while now.

“Its universal message crosses all boundaries and instills one with the hope that it’s not too late … to better ourselves. Since, Elizabeth, it’s impossible .. in this world we live in … to empathize with others … we can always empathize with ourselves.”

Voice drops to a whisper. “It’s an important message — crucial, really. As beautifully stated on the album. ”

Really, guys, you better look like Christian Bale — and have a chainsaw to pull out of your pants — if you want to get away with stuff like that in coffee shops.