TOP-10 Songs reminding me of you

If I were to compile a list of every song reminding me of you, the number of them would surely come close to infinity. That seems somehow disproportionate to the amount of time we have spent together and would certainly decrease the chances of you ever giving this playlist a listen. After the Taylor Swift Incident, it became apparent that you have zero tolerance for long albums. So, naturally, I had to limit myself. 

Ten songs. 

Only ten songs to our story, not more, not less. I even arranged them in the appropriate order, judged by their significance. 

This gift is somewhat narcissistic; I am well aware of that. It is forcing you into the world of my interpretation of our shared past. And, well, it is far from a grand romantic gesture. But I thought it might give you a glimpse of our story through my eyes, and — who knows — maybe you will like it this way.

1. 'Sultans of Swing' by Dire Straits

That is a cliche, but the first song in this list was on, the moment we laid eyes on each other for the first time. 

Do you remember it? Maybe it is a bit extreme to expect you to remember this particular song, but you should certainly recall the circumstances.

My family gathered at Aunt Irina's place; several generations of vaguely acquainted German Russians cramped in the tiny living room, impeccable in its soviet decor. Everyone was clutching a cup of tea; the table was full of literal basins of salads; an obligatory wall carpet was hanging above the sofa; it was as Russian as it gets. The German part of our cultural background was represented by a basket of pretzels. 

I was slightly annoyed because no one asked me to assist with the music; my existence and profession were completely overlooked. 

Gena — aunt Irina's husband — put on some oldies, sort of ageing rocker go-to Spotify playlist. It was moderately pleasant, but I spent my whole time on the underground (exactly thirty-six minutes) thinking of appropriate songs, and now felt bitter.

I was sitting next to my second cousin, who was just off the night train from Berlin and smelled accordingly. Mother caught my eye and gestured me to smile. I had a plastic plate of potato salad in front of me. The morning was grim.

My brother came in, late as always, unshaven and dishevelled. You were following him, holding his hand. You had a calm face and the posture of a confident person. 

Sasha introduced you to everybody, speaking German. You smiled politely and accepted a plate full of food. 

I watched you throughout dinner (what an awkward confession), followed with my eyes your precise gestures. You talked with my Mom, smiled, and loudly complimented the food, weren't allowing a single muscle of your face to indicate your true feelings. 

I haven't known that yet, but I was smitten.

Months after, you told me how nervous you were and how uncomfortable was the occasion; that Sasha failed to warn you about the nature of our gathering or to estimate the number of relatives presenting, that no warning was given about the prime language of conversation. You repeated the word 'miserable' many times and seemed embarrassed. That confession, however, just made me appreciate more your stoicism. 

In any case, my family ended up adoring you.

2. 'Side to side' by Ariana Grande

The second song was playing in the mall on the day we went shopping for the first time. 

This shopping trip happened because, during the family dinner, you mentioned you could help me with the outfit for my upcoming performance, being a fashion designer and all that; a nice gesture, probably intended to be politely declined. Unfortunately, Mother started weeping as if you promised to give me half of your leaver or something. I likely had to say something to save you but was too terrified by the prospect of getting into another quarrel. Plus, I liked you and hated clothes. 

This led us to the mall and culminated with me, half-naked in the changing cabin. You were outside, separated from me by the thin layer of coarse fabric. Your proximity was equally uncomfortable and thrilling. The origin of these feelings, however, was still remaining a mystery to me.

Probably, I was already somewhat aware of my queerness but denied myself any further self-reflection.

At the said moment, though, I was too distracted. The look of my body distressed me. My shape could be best described as: "bones and breasts"; a slogan, which would also fit broiler chicken. 

My dissatisfaction with my body immediately mixed with a dislike of my personality. I cringed at the thought of how uncomfortable you must be here with me. Until now, you and I have maybe exchanged a few phrases, and small talk was never my strongest suit, so most of the shopping process was miserably quiet.

I tried on a shirt, which you brought me, and it made me look shapeless. I stared at my reflection, my eyes burning, then took it off startlingly. 

'Valeria?' You called me through the curtain, to my horror. The trip was disastrous enough already, and I was anxious to display any signs of sadness. 

'I am all right!' My voice was annoyingly hoarse.

'I sure hope so,' you snorted. 'Listen, what's the name of this song?'

I focused on the music, turning my whole attention to the mall's radio.

'Side to side.'

'Is this Ariana Grande?' I confirmed it was. 

'I really like her.' 

That simple statement suddenly calmed me down. I also enjoyed her, even reviewed "Sweetener", her album of 2018. It was not exactly some great niche liking we had in common, but that was enough to initiate a conversation, which was not entirely awkward.

'What's your favourite song?' I asked, picking the shirt from the floor and putting it on again. 

So... Yeah. Ariana Grande be praised, we were talking.

3. 'Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You)' by Bombay Bicycle Club

I heard this song while thinking about you, and that is how it got ingrained in my memory; it became a song about you and the fact that we will never see each other again.

It was somewhere in late January of 2020. A new album by Bombay Bicycle Club just came out, and I was to write a review. 

That day my family had yet another dinner, hosted at my parents' place. My elder sister just got engaged, so we talked bridesmaids during bortsch, discussed church weddings over cutlets and by the apple pie agreed that photographers prices were unreasonable. At some point, Mother turned to Sasha and asked jokingly: 

'What about you and Lina, darling?'

'What about us?' Sasha stayed nonchalant.

'Well, how is it going between the two of you?' The unavoidable engagement question was clearly on the tip of the tongue. According to Mother, every relationship longer than six months has great marriage potential.

'We broke up,' the phrase had an effect of the explosion, which instantly buried the remains of the civilized conversation.

The rest of the dinner turned into an interrogation. Every single element there was to this story had to be meticulously analyzed. Sasha remained unresponsive and disinterested. After learning that the break up was his initiative, Mother started crying. My sister proclaimed Sasha selfish, aunt Irina kept coming with uncomfortable questions, and Father got visibly mad. 

It was cold and dark already; a typical evening of German snowless winter as I was on my way home, doing the first listen of the album. I was failing to concentrate on the music, restarting over and over. My thoughts were circling around the dinner. 

I knew I would never see you again. The only connection we had, besides appreciation of Ariana Grande, disappeared. Our non-friendship, pre-sympathy was over, without ever developing past a memorably awkward shopping trip and a few smiles across the table. 

This realization was painful, physical almost. I liked you. 

There were many things to accept there: my not-so-straight fantasies of seeing you undressed, the fact that you were gone from my life and — the worst one — even if you stayed there, it would not change a thing. 

Yes, your migration from the reality of my routine to the periphery of my consciousness was upsetting, but I just had to accept it. Nothing would happen between us anyway. 

After all, you were the hot girlfriend of my brother, and I was myself. 

4. 'Every time' by Monetochka

You were the first person to see my new apartment in Cologne. It consisted of one room, embodying the trinity of a kitchen, an office and a bedroom. Regardless of the variety of roles, the said room was empty and plain: white walls, no curtains, minimalistic furniture. The only thing, which was not of purely functional nature, was my vinyl collection. 

I did not know anyone in the city, aside from a few colleagues, with whom we were on the Zoom terms. The lockdown just started, but the desperate loneliness has already become my loyal companion. 

This upcoming visit meant everything. I was afraid of you judging my non-existing decorating skills, confused by emoji you sent me and had absurd hopes for the evening.

A Facebook coincidence reconnected us; I posted about looking for a room in Cologne, you noticed it and — boom — we were talking, discussing "weird and unstable times" and that we both picked the worst time for moving.

I prepared meticulously for your visit, trying to transform the apartment's sadness into my understanding of minimalism. Black and white photos were printed out in the local drugstore; a scented candle was bought, and a playlist was composed. I wanted you to ask me something about the music, so it consisted predominantly of Russian songs. 

Your arrival was accompanied by Monetochka's first album. You looked gorgeous, brought a bottle of wine and ignored my music completely. To enrich the perfection of your presence, I put the best song on repeat. You haven't noticed.

5. 'All the time' by The Kooks

6. 'Fear of the Dark' by Iron Maiden 

These two songs will remain forever linked in my mind, one with another and an image of us, sitting on your bed. It is a vivid memory: the burning hell outside, middle of the June or something like that, we're both sweating. You were wearing a white tank top, hair in the high ponytail. The air was humid and heavy, and a tiny fan on your nightstand did nothing to help. 

(Do you remember it as well as I do?)

We were sitting across each other, taking turns adding songs to the queue. Occasional advertisements would interrupt us from time to time: the burden of the free account.

We were talking lethargically, both too exhausted for proper communication. You have just lost a job to Covid. I was secretly afraid it would mean you will move again. We briefly discussed your job prospects ('You know, they are getting in line to get us, fashion designers', you smirked), the fact, that I still haven't ever been in the office and then just talked about music.

'I love it!' A sudden exclamation. At my perplexed look, you nodded at your computer.

'This song?' It was one of the singles by 'The Kooks'. 

'This whole album is great. So breezy, you know, with sort of circular composition.' I turned the laptop to me, intending to pick a few more things by them. 

'Wait, it's my turn.'

We found ourselves very close; our bare shoulders were touching. You typed the name of the song and whispered:

'Don't look.'

I immediately shut my eyes close. It made you laugh. My gesture was rather excessive, so I smiled too. You reached to me and kissed my smile.

'Iron Maiden' replaced 'the Kooks' as we stared at each other with similarly stunned expressions.

'Is it okay?' Your concerned face was very close. 

I nodded.

You kissed me again as Bruce Dickinson was singing about the fear of the dark.

7. 'Mirage' by Siouxsie and The Banshees

You've just got a new job, and we went to the park, the only public place where it could be celebrated. Staying in either of our places was not an option: the heat was unbearable. We laid on the grass, preserving respectful distance from everyone else, then shared a bottle of Radler. It was disgustingly lukewarm. 

'Should we take a picture?' Selfies and my face do not go well together, but I still reluctantly agreed. My body immediately went stiff. 

'You are getting so tense, every time I take my phone out,' To my relief, it was your only comment to that. 'Put on some music, please.'

I obeyed. The sun was in my face, and the screen seemed too dark, so the choice was almost random.

'Valeria, you are so beautiful,' you actively disliked Russian tradition of diminutives and still called me with my full name.

'Thanks', was my mumbled response.

'Look,' you presented your phone and a few pictures you took of me. I was squinting miserably on them, but the sentiment was clear.

'So beautiful,' you repeated and hugged me, kissed my neck. 

I was happy, laying on the grass, the heaviness of your body on me. It was all harmony: the smell of your perfume, the warmth of the sun, the sounds of music. It seemed impossible to be happier than at this moment.

8. 'Maria' by Blondie

But all these songs above are connected to the episodes. They follow each other chronologically even as if in a desperate attempt to tell a story. What about the songs, which are not about some lyrical moments between us, but every note of them is still about you?

For example, "Maria" is one of them. You, just like Maria, are free. 

(I love your self-confidence and stubbornness, the straightness of your posture, your high cheekbones and your voice.) 

People look at you, all the time, even now when your face is half-hidden by a mask. It's all your confidence and attention to details: of course, they're looking at your mask, because it fits perfectly with the rest of your style. It makes me wanna cry, the graceful perfection of your appearance and character. 

You are the fantasy. 

You are the teenage dream.

You smiled at me and said:

'I have to tell you something, just in case.' We laid in my bed, both naked rather than clothed. You had a magazine in your hands; I looked at my phone.

'What is it?' 

'I never have romantic feelings for girls.' 

Something froze inside of me. I looked at you. You were calm and relaxed.

'What do you mean?'

'I am sexually attracted to both', you clarified. 'But, unfortunately, I only fall in love with men.'

The room shuddered. I imagined the crumbling white walls. 

'Is it like a condition?' This question was rather impolite, but at that moment, I couldn't come up with any other reaction.

You scoffed:

'I prefer calling it my sexual orientation.'

You had the patient tone of someone who often had to defend their position. I was silent then, turning my gaze to my phone. You went back to reading the magazine.

We have never discussed it again. 

9. 'Hallucinations' by PVRIS

We were very, very happy, that's what I want to stress. We are still happy. I love it all: spending time with you, having sex with you, kissing you, reading books with you, you, you, you, you, you are my happiness.

I love you. 

There, look, I said it. Here they are, forbidden three words in a fixed order. I, love, you. Isn't that crazy?

How many months have we been 'together', how much time since we started spending almost every day with each other? 

You know, sometimes you look at me or say something that I begin to believe, to think that maybe...

But no, would I write all this nonsense, this love confession which doubles as a TOP list, if everything was actually perfect with us? What am I even doing? Showing you that I love you so-so much that you should undoubtedly start loving me too?

Who am I kidding? Sitting here, colouring our life in the bright shades, sprinkling it with the glitter of nostalgia. 

Hey, Lina, is it pathetic? Are you disgusted with me? Have you even read until now, or have you given up a long time before? Am I essentially just talking to myself, just a sad girl, listening to sad music in the darkness of her empty room?

I am heartbroken, and there is no one to blame. At least I will not lie to myself, sugarcoating the reality, tricking myself into the world of perfect illusions.

You never loved me and never promised to love me. We were great friends. You are magnificent and seem ready to move on. I wish you all the best, Lina.

10. The Smiths - I know it's over