I finally dedicated some time to copying my photos and music files onto my external hard-drive.
The laptop has been acting up a little these past few months and I know that if I don’t back-up the important files, it’ll crash and I’ll lose them all.
Nightmare.
As I was going through my music files, I came across loads of tracks that I hadn’t listened to in years.
The iTunes Generation go through music like Rosie O’Donnell with a bucket of Cheesy Puffs.
Scratch that.
Me with a bucket of Cheesy Puffs.
It was strange coming across tracks that, at one time, I’d listened to constantly and now I could barely remember the chorus.
It was also strange to have old memories dredged up.
If High Fidelity, Empire Records and Almost Famous has taught us anything, it’s that music is the fast-track to a person’s heart.
What better way to say what she wants to hear without actually saying it yourself than by throwing a few love songs her way and let her convince herself you’re madly, truly, deeply in love with her and this is your way of saying it!
There was an old boyfriend of mine who was an absolute master of this tactic and me, being the wee eejit I was at the time, fell for it.
I listened to the songs he gave me over and over and over.
They were precious: secret little messages from him to me.
When the inevitable messy break-up happened, those music files were hidden away.
During the first few difficult months, my resolve would crack and I’d bring them back out and try to figure out why he would get me to listen to them if he didn’t mean every lyric in them (wee eejit, remember?).
It was a pity because he’d introduced me to some great artists who were then tainted with bitter memories.
A few years later and I can listen to them again without bursts of emotion.
The memories are still there, sure, but it’s more of a curious reminiscence for time gone by, rather than hate, loathing, betrayal.
It does make me sad that I’ll probably never be able to listen to them with the same love I once did: the same love a lot of them deserve.
Thankfully for my music collection, he was the only boyfriend who insisted on overloading me with music.
The Boy and I regularly clash over music taste, which fills me with quiet relief: not that I’m afraid we’ll break up and I’ll lose more songs, but rather that I know he’s honest in his wooing ways and not attempting to manipulate my feelings with empty words.
Side note: Does anyone else think the world would be a better place if men wooed women….and people gave sass?
One song, however, that will not be listenable-to again is the song I had my awkward – and ultimately pride-wounding – first kiss to.
It almost pains me to reveal this….
It was to Eiffel 65′s Blue.
I was 17.
It was in a nightclub that was playing terrible nineties music for some reason.
I still cringe whenever I hear it.
*shudders*
