We were in the middle of one of those perfectly chill nights. You know, the kind where you're just lounging on the couch, the lights are dim, and the Spotify playlist I’d carefully curated was humming softly in the background. It was our third or fourth date, and everything felt comfortable, easy. Ryan, my new boyfriend, had his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, occasionally running his fingers through my hair. I was starting to think maybe—just maybe—this could turn into something real.
The music was doing its job, setting the perfect vibe. I was pretty proud of that playlist. A mix of indie, acoustic, and some smooth R&B tracks, it was everything I wanted for nights like this—intimate, low-key, and just a little romantic. I’d spent hours fine-tuning it, choosing songs that flowed perfectly into each other.
Ryan leaned in closer, his eyes half-closed as he listened. “I really like this playlist,” he said, his voice deep and relaxed. “It’s like… you’ve picked every song I didn’t know I needed.”
A warm, happy feeling bloomed in my chest. He loved it! My mind raced with thoughts about how well we clicked, how we both appreciated the same music, and how I’d totally nailed the whole "effortlessly cool but romantic" vibe.
Then, without missing a beat, he added, “Did you get it from your ex’s recommendations or something?”
Cue the awkward silence.
The air between us instantly shifted. I could feel the heat rush to my face as his words hung there, thick and heavy. The cozy ambiance I’d worked so hard to create crumbled around me like a poorly built sandcastle. I stared at him, frozen, unsure how to respond.
Was he being serious? Was it a joke? Did he even realize what he just said? My heart pounded in my ears, making it harder to focus. All the calm I felt a second ago vanished.
I swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to play it off. “Uh… no,” I said, forcing a laugh that even I didn’t believe. “This is all me.”
He looked at me with an innocent smile, oblivious to the landmine he’d just stepped on. “Oh, okay, cool. I was just wondering because, you know, it’s really good.”
I tried to nod, but my mind was still spinning. Did he seriously think my music taste was a hand-me-down from some guy I used to date? I mean, yes, my ex and I had shared some songs—okay, a lot of songs. But this playlist? This was mine, something I’d put together to reflect me, not anyone else. It was like he’d taken this small personal piece of me and tied it back to a past I was actively trying to move on from.
The rest of the night felt… off. I couldn’t help but hear every song differently after that. I wondered if he thought everything I liked or did was somehow influenced by my ex. Did he see me as someone still holding onto my past?
Ryan must have sensed the shift in the atmosphere because he kept glancing at me like he knew something was wrong but couldn’t figure out what. I tried to brush it off, but the more I thought about it, the harder it became to relax again.
Eventually, we called it a night. He kissed me on the cheek before leaving, but I couldn’t shake the weirdness that lingered.
I sat back down on the couch after he left, staring at my phone, where my playlist was still playing softly. It wasn’t the music that felt different—it was how I felt about him now. That tiny, offhand comment had peeled back a layer, making me question things I hadn’t thought about before. Was he really as in tune with me as I thought, or was he quietly judging my every move, wondering if it was all just remnants of a past relationship?
I took a deep breath and hit "pause." Maybe the music could wait for another day.
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