Across the long history of music, love has been likened to every drug under the sun. But on this summer’s intoxicating breakout hit, Sabrina Carpenter claims to be so irresistible that it pushes her lovers to the edge of insomnia. “Is it that sweet? I guess so,” she coos on “Espresso,” eyelash extensions fluttering innocently. “Say you can’t sleep, baby I know, that’s that me espresso.” Her allure is so piping hot that it melts grammar down into something deliciously dumb and maybe genius. Atop a breezy nu-disco beat, Carpenter delivers nonsensical, syntax-shredding lines—“Walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya”…“I know I Mountain Dew it for ya”—with the “yoo-hoo” cheek of a Gen Z Betty Boop.

“Espresso” and its even more successful follow-up single, “Please Please Please,” launched the 25-year-old Carpenter into a new echelon of pop stardom. It’s been a long time coming. She spent her teenage years acting in a spin-off of the sitcom Boy Meets World and she released her first four records under the Disney umbrella. Like many before her, she eventually ditched the mouse ears to drop her first “big girl” album, 2022’s Emails I Can’t Send.

So here we are at Carpenter’s sixth album, Short n’ Sweet, a tee-hee title for a 36-minute album by a singer who stands just under five feet tall. In a pop landscape recently plagued by self-seriousness and a tiresome obsession with authenticity, Short n’ Sweet is a refreshing glass of escapism. Rest assured, Carpenter didn’t bunny hop over a vulnerable phase—Emails touched on a number of personal experiences including breakups, parental infidelity, and the fallout from a love triangle involving a certain “driver’s license.” But on Short n’ Sweet, Carpenter is here for a good time. As she establishes on the opening track, “Taste”: “Singin’ ’bout it don’t mean I care.”

Across 12 tracks, Carpenter plays with some familiar pop guises. There’s sparkly pop-rock (the semi-sapphic “Taste”), Dolly-indebted twang (“Slim Pickins,” “Sharpest Tool”), and at least one throwback R&B steamer (“Good Graces”). Though “Coincidence”’s singalong vibes step a little too close to the folk-pop campfire, Carpenter largely pulls off these stylistic crossovers thanks to a big-ass voice that she wields with ease. It also helps that she’s backed by a who’s-who of pop songwriters and producers. Short n’ Sweet’s primary co-writer is Amy Allen, who has many hits under her belt including four No. 1 songs this year. Other familiar names include Julia Michaels, One Direction mastermind John Ryan, and Ian Kirkpatrick. Jack Antonoff is here too—his sparkly synths are unmistakable on the dazzling “Please Please Please.”

If the sound of Short n’ Sweet is occasionally fuzzy, its sense of humor is diamond-sharp. Carpenter stays busy finding novel ways to reference premature ejaculation and pervert therapy speak (“You’re holding space for her tongue in your mouth” is a particularly memorable one.) Short n’ Sweet’s casually goofy sex positivity is essential to its charm. On “Bed Chem,” she lays the innuendo on thick while winking at her romance with a certain Irish actor. “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie,” she deadpans over sexy honeymoon synths. But the standout “Juno” takes it further. Atop a roller rink gloss, Carpenter reimagines the teen pregnancy plot of the 2007 indie film as seductive shorthand: “I might let you make me Juno.” In case that reference went over any heads, she then steps out from behind the double entendres and sings: “I’m so fuckin’ horny!”

Unfortunately it’s dry out there, and Carpenter spends most of Short n’ Sweet reporting from the miserable front lines of modern dating. That boy who didn’t know the difference between “there,” “their,” and “they are”? At least he makes for a good laugh. And who can blame a girl for getting her kicks where she can? Sometimes you have to sit on a face to shut a guy up! Carpenter doesn’t pretend like her own dating history isn’t full of himbos—if Short n’ Sweet had a subtitle it might be: Men Are Stupid…But So Am I. “I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste,” she sings on “Please Please Please” before calling this judgment into question: “It’s funny and it’s ironic that only I feel that way.”

But the rare moments when Carpenter’s “give a fucks” return from vacation, if you will, are compelling. On the downcast ballad “Dumb & Poetic,” she excoriates a familiar type of guy who thinks that a meditation practice absolves him from fuckboy tendencies (Leonard Cohen also catches another stray—please let this man rest). But on the album’s penultimate track, “Lie to Girls,” Carpenter emerges from a relationship having learned a hard truth, that emotional abuse can be self-perpetuated. “You don’t have to lie to girls/If they like you, they’ll just lie to themselves,” she sings. “Like you, they’ll just lie to themselves.” Anyone is capable of breaking a heart and sometimes, you’re cruelest with your own. But Carpenter has a simple request: If you’re gonna break hers, please, do it gently. A good dick joke can’t hurt either.