Wake Up Call: A Wounded Masculinity

 

I recently found a gem from the USA — a CIS man, a very brilliant and talented artist and musician — and yes, he’s got one of Banksy’s paintings hanging in his living room. We talk over video calls almost every day now. There’s a 13+ hour time difference between us, but we manage. Our conversations are mostly about music, our childhood upbringing, society & civilization (yep, we talked about what’s been going on in his country too), and of course, the dating scene.

I can’t remember exactly what we were discussing that night, but I remember he mentioned “six-foot-tall man…” and suddenly “Wake Up Call” by Maroon 5 started playing in the back of my head. While I was still listening to him, I began remembering the song, the music video, the USA flag prominently displayed, stripper girls, a casino, and a ridiculous amount of explosions like in a Michael Bay movie. IYKYK. God forbid an Indonesian woman who grew up learning English from Hollywood movies catches that reference.

I’ve been thinking about writing something about this song for a while. I replayed it for the past four days and rewatched the music video again. I actually remember it quite well. Eleven years ago, the first time I watched it, my heart was beating so fast because of certain scenes. And for the love of God, Jesse Carmichael and Matt Flynn were hot af. I’m definitely Googling how they look now after this.

But then I changed my mind. This wasn’t a sexy revenge kind of song. This song was about a man trying to reclaim control after being cheated on — and showing absolutely no remorse.

“I live on raw emotion, baby

And I’m not kind if you betray me.

So who the hell are you to save me?”

He reacts impulsively. Betrayal equals annihilation. There’s no processing, only reaction. He doesn’t want repair, he doesn’t want mediation, he wants dominance restored. Ha.

“Six foot tall,

Came without a warning, so I had to shoot him dead.”

At first glance? Crime of passion. We saw that in the opening scene of the music video — him in the car with his cheated girlfriend, trying to talk after what he had done. But psychologically? It’s closer to: My ego was ambushed. I eliminated the threat. The “other man” isn’t just a rival. He represents humiliation, loss of control, and being replaceable. Shooting him is symbolic — an attempt to erase humiliation itself.

And do you know what’s colder than the murder?

“I don’t feel so bad.”

That line is more horrifying than the violence. Because that’s the emotional shift. That’s detachment. That’s justification. That’s rewriting yourself as righteous. No heartbreak, no remorse, just moral numbness. If he can shoot the other man dead, can you imagine what he can do to the cheated girlfriend? Good fucking God.

As a domestic violence survivor, I had to learn the hard way how to understand perpetrators’ psychology. When their pride feels threatened, their first instinct is to regain control. Power must be restored — mentally or physically — and violence becomes justified.

When I worked in NGO spaces a decade ago, I didn’t just learn statistics (and in Indonesia alone, until early September 2025, there were already 10,000 reported domestic violence cases). I learned the humans behind them — victims and perpetrators alike. Even while I was still deep in therapy with my psychologist and psychiatrist, I was intrigued by understanding their minds. I treated it as a healing lesson. People heal differently, and I’m forever grateful I chose that route. Because eventually, I stopped being afraid to sleep without a light on. I stopped panicking at loud banging noises, and that matters.

It’s a Satire Music Video — But Satire of What?

The “Wake Up Call” music video is exaggerated, chaotic, almost grindhouse in tone — objectified women, theatrical police, drag disguises, electric chair execution. It’s not realism, it’s satire.

But satire of what?

Masculinity driven by wounded pride.

The ego that turns everything into a spectacle.

Possessiveness masquerading as love.

When pride gets bruised, everything becomes dramatic, self-centered, cinematic. The world revolves around me, my humiliation, my rage, my narrative. And that’s the fragility.

So no — this isn’t a sexy revenge song.

It’s about wounded masculinity.

Possessive entitlement.

The fragility of ego.

And how quickly “love” turns violent when control is threatened.

This isn’t romantic rage.

This is: If I can’t have you, I will erase the threat.

Psychologically, that’s closer to narcissistic injury than heartbreak. BOOM. There. I said it.

My Long Decade of “Sexy Revenge Song” State of Mind

I’m shaking my head while writing this, honestly. Learning more about human psychological behavior scares the shit out of me. Because brilliant artists can layer messages like this — in arrangement, in lyrics, in tone — and most people just dance to it.

“Wake Up Call” is a stylized portrayal of what happens when possessiveness masquerades as love and wounded pride escalates into moral numbness — showing how fragile identity can turn betrayal into justification for destruction. Goddammit. Yes, I wrote that.

Do I still love the song?

Fuck yeah.

I’ll still dance to it.

I’ll still sing it at karaoke.

I’m not pretending otherwise.

But I’m not legitimizing the behavior either.

If you get cheated on by your partner with a six-foot-tall man or woman, leave. Don’t react, don’t escalate, don’t destroy, just leave.

They knew what they were doing, they chose it, they didn’t care about you or your shared history. A cheater will always be a cheater. Been there, done that. I know what I’m talking about.

And one more thing — Jesse fucking Carmichael and Matt fucking Flynn are still hot af. Fuck.

“Wake Up Call” - Maroon 5

Ubud, 19th February 2026