Like Everybody, I Want to be Loved
It's a Roger Doyle summer, I fear.
Decided to finally hit send on this situation:
I wrote this on the high of a very good date. And while this essay would probably look a little different now, I love it for what it is—A delightful time capsule.
This essay is accompanied by an audio recording because I love to yap.
“One way or another, I’m going to lose you.”
He was sitting across from me at the bar swirling the ice in his Shirley Temple and peering straight into my soul. I wouldn’t notice the bags under his eyes until he pointed them out himself later that night. Instead, I noticed the flush in my cheeks when I realized he was watching me.
I rarely know how to act when someone is clearly flirting. My go-to responses include (1) Babbling until we quickly move past such unprecedented intimacy, and (2) Pretending like I didn’t hear it at all. This time, for once, I dig my nails into my palm and try to match his gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, either we die or you move back to New Jersey.” His lips curled into a faint smile. Our first date.
I walked to the bar that day. I’ve built a solid habit of leaving my headphones at home during evening walks, but this time, I need the distraction from the growing pit in my stomach. Even at the big age of 30, the lead-up to a first date feels like my innards are being sucked into a vacuum.
I often revisit this song in the warmer months, a delightful and theatrical release of young love and possibility. Even when you aren’t in love, it’s the perfect song to welcome the warmer seasons. This time, however, its echo felt like a witchy incantation.
There are so many things I want,
But mainly,
And like everybody,
I want to be loved.
When Roger Doyle wrote Spring Is Coming With A Strawberry In The Mouth in 1986, I believe he was talking to me. I read somewhere that it took him 10 minutes to compose the melody, and yet the song sounds like generations of romantic longing erupting from the Earth’s surface all at once.
Unlike Spring Is Coming, my favorite songs about love are nervous and uncertain. They exude the passion of yearning while maintaining a level of distance from the subject, usually out of insecurity and self-preservation. They acknowledge that love is pain and hope that by stating that fact, they are somehow freeing themselves of the burden entirely. How relatable, unfortunately.
It feels like we are in an era of perpetual longing instead of actual romance. This is devastating news as summer hits. Why are we, in the year 2025, listening to Charli xcx’s party 4 u? Its sinister climb to the top of our algorithms 5 years later hints at an undercurrent of loneliness that we’ve inhabited. No one does melancholic yearning quite like Charli. It’s why she is the people’s princess.
That being said, I don’t date. Like, at all. I am everyone’s famously single friend. People no longer ask who I’m seeing because the answer is always Ethan Hawke (we go to the same gym.)
After nearly 15 years of finding new and creative ways to reject and be rejected, I tapped out. I’ve opted for a simpler life, one where I am dressing cute for myself, traveling the world, sustaining a career, building a home, and surrounding myself with the most loving friends one could ever ask for. I’ve done well without a partner. There are days when I genuinely believe I could live this way forever.
Don’t you think, dear Louis,
That because I sing
I have a light heart?
The date was going well enough that we left the bar for his apartment. To meet his dog Greta, of course.
“Let’s go this way for a surprise.” he said as we walked down a quieter street.
For the first time that night, I was nervous. Genuinely, the last thing I ever want on a first date is a surprise. He stopped about a block away from his building and shined his phone light into the bushes. After a few seconds of searching, he pulled out his headphones. Big, expensive-looking, noise-canceling headphones.
“I accidentally left the house with them and didn’t want to show up to a date wearing them. I figured I’d just pick them up on the way home.”
I learned he lost his building key months ago and has been picking the lock to get inside ever since. He lives alone and never locks his front door. I made a joke about robbing him in the elevator.
Believe it or not, this is not the first time I’ve ended up at someone’s apartment on a first date for something other than sex. This is the most me thing that could possibly happen on a date. There I was, standing next to the couch and scratching Greta behind the ears while eyeing the Gustav Klimt prints on the wall. I learned he is a seasoned DnD player as he showed me an original map he commissioned. And though I have never played the game, I was charmed by how passionate he was. As he walked me through each of the districts and key characters, I felt Greta’s nose nudge me to keep petting her. I only retained about 40% of what he was saying, instead choosing to admire his eyes once more. They were lovely.
It’s been such a long time
Since I was in love.
He is friends with primarily women. I know this because he explicitly told me. In fact, many of the things he said that night indicated he had consulted eHow and bisexual TikTok on how to make a woman fall in love with you. Some highlights included:
“I’m friendly with my exes.”
“I love my dog.”
“I’ve been in therapy most of my life.”
“My DnD world is a matriarchy.” Etcetera.
Having lived here as long as I have, I am trained to spot the alluring yet toxic patterns of bisexual Brooklyn men. And while I do consider myself to be quite cold and jaded in this department, I noticed something else simmering under the surface of his words: Sincerity.
Last year, Caroline Polachek released her own cover of Spring Is Coming.
What a time for Roger Doyle to enter the mainstream. And yet, this cover was destined to happen. Caroline Polachek’s pop is my kind of pop. It’s tongue-in-cheek, aloof, and endearingly vulnerable. Though her music occupies a similar place as Charli xcx, Caroline’s is less melancholic, less nihilistic, than Charli’s. Charli filters existential dread through the lens of club culture, while Caroline wears hers like protective armor. Her pop is layered in angelic vocals and an experimental electro-acoustic sound born from the likes of Björk and Kate Bush. It’s grand and operatic. Both Charli and Caroline represent the rawest state of pop right now, and the future of it. But this cover could never be sung by anyone other than Caroline.
I am not tired, I am numb. Numb to scary headlines and even scarier images. Numb to the content machine, to influencers, to celebrity scandal, to brand partnerships, to hashtags, to clout.
Am I happy to be alone, or have the unspeakable horrors of living made it easier to be alone? Was this my choice, or was it decided for me by the death grip of capitalism? Have I really escaped the pain by being single, or is it coming for me anyway?
Stay numb, stay unfeeling, don’t think, don’t question. You don’t deserve-I mean, you don’t want anything more than you already have.
There’s nothing like the ethereal vocal flip of Caroline Polachek to pull you out of your own head. Caroline’s Spring is a wakeup call to let the messy vulnerability of desire transform you.
Spring is coming with a strawberry in the mouth.
We walked Greta all the way back to my place to drop me off, which was about 45 minutes away. It was late and we took turns handling her leash.
“I’m not great at social cues, so you may need to tell me if you want to be left alone,” he prefaced.
“I would have left by now if I wanted to be alone.”
That was true. As a professional non-dater, I am an expert at removing myself from situations I do not want to be in. I never hesitate to skedaddle.
We walked side by side, our bodies inching closer ever so slightly.
Maybe this was it, I thought. Maybe a good conversation is being mistaken for actual chemistry. Maybe he would never contact me again. Maybe we would make it to a second date only to realize there was nothing there. Maybe he secretly hates me. Maybe I’m not being forward enough or sexy enough. Maybe I mistook his boredom for sincerity. Maybe he’s been lying this entire time. Maybe he’s a narcissist. Maybe I am.
“One way or another, I’m going to lose you.”
In the past, intrusive thoughts like this were enough for me to flee into the shadows forever, never to be seen again. But that night, I craved the uncertainty. I basked in it. For the first time in a long time, I wanted more.
Links
TikTok ♡ Spotify ♡ Instagram ♡ Letterboxd