Throwback Edition: A Romantic Playlist for Myself
Plus, parenting in utopia, a killer short story, and lots of recipes
Dearest Readers,
What a week it has been. I was fully out of commission last week with a mystery illness so I came back this week with vengeance, deciding to do all the things I’ve been telling myself I would do for weeks now. I purchased my first surfboard, got in the water first thing in the morning a few days in a row, took my first in-person Spanish lesson, caught up with some friends, did yoga, and spent hours and hours writing to make my upcoming deadlines. Needless to say, I land in your inbox today quite depleted—friendly reminder you don’t actually have to do everything at once, lol—so I’m coming at you this morning with one of my favorite Throwback Editions.
Earlier this week I was on the phone with a friend when I mentioned that for the first time in a very long time, I currently have absolutely no romantic interests. Coming off a whirlwind year in the romance department—a toxic relationship followed by a half-baked one followed by a heartbreak followed by a rebound—it feels incredibly liberating to have finally let go of all the loose ties I’ve attempted to hold on to in recent months. For the first time all year, I feel deeply content in the presence of my own company, I don’t feel I’m missing anything by not having a crush to text or fantasize about. Instead, I’ve been fantasizing about catching more than one wave an hour when I’m out in the ocean. I’ve been keeping my mind and my heart occupied by dreaming about the year to come, all of the things I plan to do, all of the energy and momentum I feel. And damn, it feels really, really good to feel whole.
Don’t get me wrong, I love romantic love. Being in love is the single greatest feeling in the world and having a proper crush is bliss. I love the way our feelings become so vivid when we’re crushing on someone, how every sunrise and every song lyric reminds us of that special person. I love how music is a universal love language, how we can hear the feelings we haven’t yet articulated so beautifully laid out in a song; how a song can instantly transport us back to a moment we’ll never forget. I like today’s Throwback Edition because it plays on these ideas—crushes and music; loving others and, in the end, coming to love ourselves.
Until next time,
A Note From the Editor
I was having drinks with a friend a few months back, chatting about life and whether we actually liked the taste of natural wine when his face arranged itself into a serious expression. “Can I ask your opinion on something? I need a girl’s perspective,” he said. I am a girl who is nothing if not full of opinions, so I happily obliged. He went on to describe his small dilemma: a girl friend of his made him a playlist. After listening to it with some scrutiny, he was convinced the collection of songs was an attempt to convey a deeper meaning—a crush at the least, a real romantic interest at the most—and could he send me the playlist, to get my opinion?
It was a damn good playlist, one I’ve listened to many times since, but that first listening experience was cosmic. I imagined this stranger, the pretty young woman who created the mix and felt a profound bond between her and me. I pictured her sitting on a jewel-toned velvet couch in her apartment, her legs folded beneath her as she carefully pieced the songs together, orchestrating something both tender and lovely. She’d listen to nothing but this playlist for weeks and every time she did, while taking a shower or lying in bed, she’d trick herself into thinking that it reminded her of him. Her heart would flutter with the possibility, relishing in the cryptic messages a collection of songs can encode.
A friend of mine used to call me out for my habit of making playlists for the people I had even the mildest of crushes on. “At least make them private,” she’d chastise when she noticed me listening to one of the aptly named mixes on her Spotify feed. I recently went back to re-inspect what is left of the collection of romantically-inclined playlists I’ve made over the years and discovered something of a trend among them: a splintered version of myself, curated specifically for the listener. In For Matthew, I discovered a girl trying to lessen the potential impact of a wide age gap through a tasteful mix of songs that she would consider oldies, but that he would not as if to prove that she, at 26, could be a solid contender for step-mom to his young son. In For Nate, I found a girl trying to demonstrate that there was more substance to her than might present itself at first glance, aiming to earn some unspoken flavor of credibility through an affinity for The College Dropout. In Second Date Feelz, I found a girl who was nearly healed, willing to allow herself to be loved for the first time in a long time.
Creating these playlists was therapeutic, almost meditative. I would imagine my crushes listening to a mishmash of Empress Of and Billy Joel and Tupac as a slow realization dawned on them: this girl is special. Clever. Loveable and Cool with a capital C. I hoped these mixes would fill in the blanks that perhaps my first impression or my overall demeanor did not; that they would give some critical context to the nervous girl whose neck began to splotch after too many glasses of wine and not enough food on the third date, the one who cursed too often and nodded too enthusiastically.
Ironically, I never sent any of these playlists to the people they were intended for and that truth seems to reveal something habitual: the proclivity to view myself exclusively through the eyes of another, to focus my energy on presenting as the version of myself that a potential partner might find most palatable. Essayist Melissa Febos said it perfectly in a piece she wrote for Vogue earlier this year, and there is one line I haven’t been able to get out of my head:
“If I were not a lover, not the pursued or adored or obsessed or idealized or depended upon, then who might I be? It prompted me to reflect on all of the years I’d spent oriented to the desires of others, how profoundly they had obscured my own. “
When I go back and listen to those playlists today, I see what I missed the first go-round: fragments of a whole begging to be acknowledged, discovered, celebrated. I realize these mixes were never about the people whose names grace their titles; they were always about me. In their eclecticism, I see my multifaceted persona, my seriousness and my silliness, my frenetic childhood and impassioned adolescence, my capacity for love. In their titles, I see my boldness, my steadfast attempt to exhibit a level of vulnerability that I have never felt comfortable expressing aloud. In the track that overlaps multiple playlists, I hear a persistent message trying to force its way through the tough exterior of my conscious mind: you are special and interesting, and no one needs to tell you that for it to be true. This one’s for you, darling. It was never for them.
Cheers, my dears, and as always, thank you for reading. I’ll be taking a week off next week for the holidays, but will be back in your inbox with a new edition on the last Thursday of the year (what?!).
Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming
Parenting in Utopia. Anyone who knows me knows about my obsession with the concept of communal living. This piece was fascinating—it discusses Twin Oaks, with 150 members. This one was a fairly specific way of operating that requires 42 hours of weekly labor from each member—tasks that could as labor include the time a parent spends caring for their child, grocery shopping, and maintaining the home, because those tasks are valued in the community and considered work the same way a tradition job is considered work in society at large. I love the idea of living in a society where the members agree upon collected values instead of being forced to ingest and live by values that don’t resonate with you. Lots of interesting stuff to consider here.
The Seven Types of Rest Every Person Needs. This one might border on cheesy, but it also feels validating, especially right now. I’ve always been a good sleeper, but there are plenty of times when I still feel deeply, utterly drained after a full eight hours, those days when no amount of caffeine can replenish my vitality. I’d never considered the idea that maybe what my body is asking me for on those days isn’t physical rest but emotional rest, or spiritual rest, or creative rest. This idea feels like something to stick in your back pocket as an important reminder and a useful tool.
A Short Story About Feminism, Virtue Signaling and Not Getting Laid. Even if you aren’t someone who regularly consumes short stories, I highly suggest you set aside 20-30 minutes of your day and give this one a read. In it, a male protagonist devotes his ideological life to living out the ideals of feminism and is convinced that being an unwavering feminist is preventing him from getting laid. What transpires is messy and human. This story drudges up so many fascinating discussion points: whether feminism is overly prescriptive, society’s intolerance for men who don’t fulfill their gendered romantic roles, whether gendered equality can exist on the same plane as desirability, the list goes on. I’ve already had a call with two friends to talk about this story, but if you want to discuss it after reading feel free to drop me a line because there is SO MUCH to unpack here.
“At lunch one day, two of his male coworkers offer unsolicited dating advice, relishing the chance to showboat their sexual proficiencies. He’s too honest and available, not aggressive enough—friend-zone shit, they say unironically. Just don’t be a fucking pussy is all! You gotta challenge them, be a puzzle for them to work out, that’s just how girls’ brains work, it’s evolution. They offer grotesquely specific advice about eye contact and hair touching. Learn palmistry, they say, bitches love getting their palms read.”
Perhaps You Should…
Find Something New to Cook
As someone with a small mountain of dietary restrictions who is always on the hunt for new recipes, I was jazzed to find out about this searchable recipe database. The database pulls from over 2 million recipes and allows you to search for any keyword or combination of keywords to find recipes that suit your needs. I can’t speak for the quality of the recipes (yet), but I’m excited to give many of them a try.
**Bonus Content** (A Message From Your Breakfast)
It’s the açai bowl for me. Also, I just discovered the fancy “c” in açai. Fun!
A Quote From A Book You Should Read:
“And yet, standing behind her son, waiting for the traffic light change, she remembered how in the midst of it all there had been a time when she'd felt a loneliness so deep that once, not so many years ago, having a cavity filled, the dentist's gentle turning of her chin with his soft fingers had felt to her like a tender kindness of almost excruciating depth, and she had swallowed with a groan of longing, tears springing to her eyes. (“Are you alright, Mrs. Kitterige?” the dentist had said.)”
-Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout
This newsletter is best served with a side of conversation, so drop your opinions, reflections, and thoughts in the comments below and let’s get to talking.
Or, share the most thought-provoking piece from today’s edition with someone you love, then call them up to discuss, debate, and percolate. As a wise woman once said, “Great minds discuss ideas.”