I discovered “Space Age Love Song” as I was perusing through, or rather “stalking” people’s Spotify playlists the other day. The man whom I fondly refer to as my “first love” was listening to it, and suddenly, quite suitably, I declared the song to be his. I mean, who else would I think of now when I hear it if not him? Although he hardly is my first love and I surely am not his, this song makes me wonder who he may be in love with today, and if he ever was in love with me then. It’s been three years since we last spoke, but he still follows me on Spotify, and I, him. I wonder if he ever occasionally glances over at the “friends activity” tab while browsing (the desktop version of Spotify), and searches for my name. A selfish part of me hopes he does, but I know he is occupied with other people, places, and things now. The playlist where this song resides is named “Tbd”. Don’t ask me why, I am no longer privy to the inner workings of his brain. Curiously, there’s no other songs on “Tbd” (yet). And even if there were, I wouldn’t care to listen to them. Again, don’t ask me why.
I’ve been entranced by his song for the past two weeks now. It barely has any lyrics (17 lines [85 words] to be exact), but manages to be nearly 4 minutes long. Not long enough for my liking. I think once it’s medically possible, I will have it injected into my veins so that it can last forever, in case my memory of him doesn’t.
Maybe he knew of “Space Age Love Song” while we were together, and maybe he listened to it in secret when we were apart. But it can never belong to me. It will always be his, but live inside my veins.
