Love is a Mix Tape

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Admitting to one’s age is one thing, admitting to creating a mix tape is something else and if that tape is the first ever Valentine’s gift one gives to the intended lust/love/romance object, then…that can be attributed to a bygone era. I guess the contemporary thang or equivalent to a mix tape is going all out and buying an iPod for someone in the hope that they appreciate it while adding their own personal favorites. Buying a iTunes voucher is another possibility, but it doesn’t really come close to personally selecting songs and delivering them to your intended which, when I think about it, is a little creepy.

It’s funny how past romantic gestures aren’t considered creepy. When I now recall the first romantic or Valentine gesture, I can smile or laugh but it took a few years and relocations, to reach that point. You see, I had a huge crush on a beefy car mechanic. He’d service my car and, being the impressionable ‘young woman’ I was at the age of eighteen, I thought he was interested. Naive beyond my own comprehension and impressionable to the max, the idea of the mix tape came to me after observing my mother’s divorced female friends. Big mistake…

So I created my own mix tape, and it contained classic mushy 80’s tunes from the likes of Yazoo (“Only You”), Spandau Ballet (“I’ll Fly For You”) and, horror of horrors, ABC (“The Look of Love” and “All of My Heart”). I mean, cripes! Today, I’d have to control myself not to vomit at stuff like that but that is probably because I didn’t really get anywhere with my tape, other than experiencing the inferno of embarrassment on my face from afar. I had arranged for a friend to ‘mysteriously’ deliver the tape to the handsome mechanic.

Weeks went by, and I don’t know why, but I thought he’d figure it out and return my gesture with a grander gesture. But it didn’t happen and I didn’t have the guts to reveal my gesture. What if he hated the songs I chose? What if he was a headbanging metal head into Iron Maiden? So many thoughts went through my mind at the time and today, I don’t spend a lot of time pondering ‘what could have been’, because the outcome didn’t resemble a Hollywood romantic comedy. Quite the opposite. He had actually known it was me all along. My ‘friend’ had actually told him.

So I guess the moral of my paltry, non sexual story, is that if stuff is meant to happen it will happen. Creating a romantic avalanche isn’t going to push something along if one half of the party doesn’t want to come to the dance.

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