“By singing the words ‘I’m not the kind of girl,’ Harry – or her persona – admits that there exist many varieties of girl, as many as there are shades of lipstick, or verses in the Bible, or varieties of rock on the path to Lourdes. There are many kinds of girl, and Debbie has the right to pick exactly which kind she is. But she is also fated to be a specific kind – and maybe this kind of girl falls prey to dejection and wants a listener’s sympathy.”