Great songs are easy to enjoy - they're either the product of 'accepted', hip bands (like Radiohead) or universally praised for their excellence (like U2 ,the Beatles or Kanye West). Loving a cool song is, pretty much, simplicity in itself.

Then there are the other songs, the ones that you sheepishly, grudgingly admit you like. The reasons for their utter wackness are legion - they're too cheesy, poppy, sappy, annoying, feminine (or masculine, depending on your gender), or simply overplayed beyond belief. Whatever the reason may be, you don't care, you still dig them...a lot. But, in all likelihood, you would NEVER, EVER admit that you like them for fear of derision and, most likely, total banishment from the Cool Community.

I knew that confessing my songs was going to be excruciating, so I met with a therapist, hoping she could guide me through this difficult, tender and, yes, painful process. The following is a transcript of the session, exactly as it happened.

Therapist: (fumbling with tape recorder) OK, Zach...are you ready to begin?

Me: I...I think so.

Therapist: Don't worry, I'm here. Go ahead. Tell me about your first song... when you're ready.

Me: I'm nervous.

Therapist: Take a deep breath, it'll be fine.

Me: Ok, here goes...(exhales deeply). Clarity by John Mayer.

Therapist: Excellent! Now that wasn't too hard, was it?

Me: (surprised and relieved) Actually,no.

Therapist: Good, good... now, why are you ashamed to like that song? Mr.Mayer is very popular,and he's dating Jennifer Aniston? What's wrong with that?

Me: Nothing, I guess. I just took my wife to see him -

Therapist: Mr. Mayer?

Me: Yeah...and all these teen girls were, like, screaming as he sang this song, so...

Therapist: You felt ashamed to like this particular tune?

Me: Yeah, pretty much.

Therapist: OK, let's talk about it. You realize it's OK to like a song that teenage girls like, don't you?

Me: It is?

Therapist: Of course! What about the Beatles? Or Duran Duran?

Me: Or the Jonas Brothers?

Therapist: No, not them.

Me: (Confused) Oh. But, I feel weird about it cause...I'm no longer a teenager.

Therapist: Yes, Zach, but music is truly universal. It appeals to all ages.

Me: So liking Avril Levigne's song I'm With You is...?

Therapist: Totally fine.

Me: Really? Wow, that's just...wow.

Therapist: A huge relief?

Me: Oh yeah. Absolutely. It's like the weight of the world is off my shoulders. I feel almost like a new person.

Therapist: Excellent, we're making rapid progress. Now we're going to try some word association. I'll say a word, and you say an embarrassing song that you're afraid to admit you like.

Me: (tentative) Umm...OK.

Therapist: Here we go...(emphasizing the word) Country.

Me: (thinks for a long time) Before He Cheats.

Therapist: Carrie Underwood?

Me:(averting his eyes) Yeah.

Therapist: You're doing great, Zach, let's keep going. Syrupy?

Me: Truly, Madly, Deeply.

Therapist:(stifling a giggle) Savage Garden?

Me: (defensive) That's right. Are you laughing at me?

Therapist: No, no, of course not. God, no. I thought I was about to sneeze, but it passed.

Me:(not convinced) Unh hunh.

Therapist: (eager to move on) Let's continue, shall we? Manilow?

Me: Uhhh...yeah. Looks Like We Made It.

Therapist: (scribbling on pad) Fascinating.

Me: Is something wrong?

Therapist: No, it's just that typically, in these cases, the response is almost always Copacabana.

Me: Interesting.

Therapist: Indeed. Let's keep moving forward, Zach. Overplayed?

Me: The Macarena? (off the Therapist's look of horror) Just messing with you, sorry.

Therapist: Mr Galligan, novelty dance songs are no laughing matter. Do you have any idea how much damage they cause to society?

Me: No, I - I'm...(abashed) I'm truly sorry.

Therapist: This is very, very serious. (Looks at watch) Our time's almost up. Let's get through this quickly, shall we?

Me: Sure.

Therapist:(firmly) Overplayed?

Me: Against All Odds.

Therapist: Still?

Me: Mmm hmm. The part where he says,'And you comin' BAACK to me, is against the odds'... it just tears me apart.

Therapist: Really.

Me: That, and the touching piano coda at the end. Yeah. (Reaches for a tissue)

Therapist: Disco?

Me: If I Can't Have You.(openly sobbing) Yvonne Elliman.

Therapist: You're doing sooo well, Zach. Only three to go.

Me:(weeping) OK.

Therapist: Abba?

Me: (blowing my nose) S.O.S.

Therapist: It feels good, doesn't it?

Me: It hurts. A lot. It really, really does. (starts sobbing again)

Therapist: I know it does. Easy pop?

Me: (pulling it together) Time in a Bottle. Jim Croce. I hear it and I'm ten years old, listening to my sister's cheap AM radio.

Therapist: (scribbling furiously) That's fantastic, Zach, we're almost home. Are you ready for the toughest one?

Me: Not really. I feel beaten up.

Therapist: I understand.

Me: I'm totally drained, like I ran ten miles.

Therapist: Let's just do this last one, and we can continue next week, at the same time, Ok? Great. (Long pause, then in a hushed tone) Streisand.

(There is a period of 22 seconds of no sound except labored breathing)

Me: (slowly) What KIND of person do you take me for?

Therapist: Mr Galligan, please sit down -

Me: Are you actually asking me if I like Barbra Freakin' STREISAND?!!!? Do you know you can lose your license for that!! Do you!!!

Therapist: She's one of America's most beloved singers, Zach! She's a multiple Grammy winner!!

Me: (pacing furiously) This is just incredible! It's outrageous! I feel like I'm losing my damn mind!! You were supposed to help me!

Therapist: I am helping you... Now pull yourself together, and be a man, dammit!!

Me: (stops pacing, calms down somewhat) Okay!! (after a few moments) OK, fine. (looks at her for a long time) The one with Neil Diamond. The duet thingy.

Therapist:(nodding slowly) You Don't Bring Me Flowers.

Me: (totally spent) Yeah, that's it. That's the one. (sits down, exhausted) Are you happy now?

Therapist: I think we made substantial progress, Zach, yes. See you next week?

(sound of tape recorder being turned off)

END OF TRANSCRIPT