Ben Kweller, "Thirteen"

Back in the day, when I thought making a mix CD for your significant other was the most original expression of love, I put this song on one that I made for my first serious boyfriend. Maybe it's Kweller's croon, but to this day, I swear a tear will roll ever so dramatically down my cheek whenever I hear the song. It reminds me of the beginning, when things were passionate yet carefree — before jealousy, distance, and conflicting ambitions got in the way. More than anything, it brings me back to that amazing first year, right before everything fell apart.

— Valerie

 

Dave Matthews Band, "Crash Into Me"

The first time my ex and I really hit it off was on a cruise together with mutual friends. The last night of the cruise, we stayed up all night talking and lounging on lawn chairs on the deck. We must've fallen asleep (or been doing other unmentionable things in the dark) because we were suddenly "awoken" by a hint of sunlight and the song "Crash Into Me" playing over the pool loudspeaker. We spent the next five minutes watching the sun rise and belting out Dave Matthews. As lame as it sounds, I still get goosebumps whenever I hear that song.

— Jenn

 

Bon Iver, "Flume"

Weekends, I used to go visit her in the little town she lived in, three hours away. Then I'd have to get up and go back to the city for work on Monday, and she'd have to give me a ride to the train station. We never managed to sleep much on Sunday nights, sick with separation anxiety, and then we'd haul ourselves out of bed when it was still dark out and mournfully shiver out the door. It was winter; you could see our breath in the car. As if the whole thing wasn't sad enough, we were generally listening to Bon Iver, watching the world fade slowly from black to dull blue to dull gray. No wonder we broke up. That first track on For Emma still makes me feel queasy.

— Leonard

 

Ja Rule, "Living It Up"

I kissed my first boyfriend in the high-school hallway after fencing practice. A week later, we were headed to the holiday dance at the local Boys and Girls Club "together," meaning we showed up and left with separate groups of friends, meeting only to exchange gifts and hold sweaty palms together through a few songs. When "Living It Up" came on, I knew it was the perfect song to slow dance to. I believed a lot of things about high school then: that there would be plenty more perfect songs to slow dance to, that big things would happen, that me and this kid would last longer than the box of chocolates he got me for Christmas. I would know better eventually.

— Jill

 

The Mamas and the Papas, "California Dreamin"

In 1962, I was in high school, chasing this girl. I was one of the poor boys in town, and she was rather well-to-do; needless to say, she never had time for a guy like me. But by 1967, I'd done a tour of duty with the Army Rangers in Vietnam; I was built a lot differently, and had a completely different attitude from that of the skinny teenager she remembered from high school.

There was a party at one of the lower-rent apartments downtown, and when I showed up, looking to get laid, there she was, sitting on the floor against the wall with a joint of some of the worst dope I'd ever tasted. I reached into my hip pocket and pulled out some excellent Kona Gold. "California Dreamin" kept playing over and over on the stereo. That night, the sex was more than good — it was for spite. I still smile when I hear "California Dreamin."

— Ray

 

The Fugees, "Ready or Not"

I was seventeen, driving in my boyfriend's Oldsmobile, leaning close to him across those classic and arguably unsafe bench seats. "Ready or Not" blasted through his more-expensive-than-the-car-itself sound system. I'd heard the song many times before, but right then it seemed synchronized to my internal soundtrack. (You know, the soundtrack that plays "Eye of the Tiger" when you're preparing for battle, or "Going to California" when you're on the plane to, uh, California.) Anyway, we dated until I was twenty-one and had many songs we called our own. But I never told him about that one and how it reminded me of falling very hard for him.

— E

 

Third Eye Blind, "Semi-Charmed Life"

For some reason, my ex soundtracked his life like it was a '90s bar mitzvah. We used to spend our nights drinking forties in his basement while his parents were home, blasting alterna-hits to cover the sounds of our adolescent base rounding. Yet, no matter how intensely we were making out, if "Semi-Charmed Life" was playing, we would always break apart just in time to shout "doo-doo-doo" in each other's faces.

— Colette

 

Submit to our next round-up: Love Triangles. Have you ever dueled for the heart of a man/woman? (How are your fencing skills, incidentally?) Or for that matter, has anyone ever dueled for you? Send your greatest stories of romantic competition in 300-500 words to submissions@nerve.com or click for more details.