Dear Vinyl,

I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see you again. It’s not like we’ve kept in touch much the past few years. But it was surprising to bump into you the other day while shopping. And then I saw you again online and it brought back a flood of memories. I just have to be blunt and honest—I wondered to myself, what are you doing in my world again?

Like a lot of relationships, it began when I was young and naive. Genesis, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, “Meet The Beatles”, Chicago’s Greatest Hits, the Super Bowl Shuffle? We did it all together. It was all so fun and new—the attraction was electric (and analog). The glowing dials. The diamond tipped needles. Simulated wood cabinets. Our love burned hot and pure. Sure, there was an occasional needle scratch and your tendency to hiss and pop a little, but I was more than happy to overlook that. You were the seasoned lover, helping me find my way around the block. You taught me the lessons of life and love. But it didn’t last long, and I knew it was over when I met someone else.

She was small and petite. Tough and beautiful on the outside, but I found out later how tightly wound she was. (And twisted too.) We stumbled onto each other, and for a time it seemed to work. We had a dialogue—I could bring my preferences to the table, mix them up, and change the whole dynamic of our liaison. I thought we were so compatible. We went everywhere together—she seemed equally comfortable on the street in my cousin’s boom box, or traveling on road trips together. Looking back, I guess it honestly was a marriage of convenience. It probably lasted longer than it should have, but our connection was comfortable and familiar. There’s something to be said for that, I suppose.

But I was wholly unprepared for what happened next. Someone new strutted into my world in 1989. I had heard of her in whispers and caught occasional glances before, but I found myself ready to experiment. A stolen glance became a loving look, and just like that, I was mesmerized by her gleaming, shiny veneer. She was hi-tech and so sophisticated (not to mention digital)! Out tryst quickly turned into a long-term relationship, and weathered many seasons in my life, from Guns N’ Roses to Urge Overkill, 10,000 Maniacs to John Mayer, Depeche Mode to Neko Case. I have to be honest—she reminded me of you a little bit. It’s strange—she was a fixture in my life for such a long time, and we still see each other now and again. It’s always friendly and cordial—sometimes it even ends up in the occasional dalliance. We never officially agreed that it’s over, but both of us can see the writing on the wall.

I’m in a transitional phase right now—seeing someone new. She’s very different for me—mouthy, political and worldly. I’ll be honest—she’s not very much to look at, but maybe at this point in my life, I’m okay with that. She has it where it counts. (Playlist counts, I mean.) This might all be going somewhere, but I’m not convinced. Maybe it’s because she’s so clingy—it has been a little concerning. I see her at work, we meet on the El, go for morning runs together, on the phone—even in the shower. Also, I didn’t mention that she’s really young. I think that’s okay, right? Flexible, mixable—and her shuffling! My goodness. I know you won’t judge me, though. It is the 21st century, after all.

Anyways, I wanted to say that seeing you has really left me feeling confused—on one hand, I think about all the good times we had. Then I start to wonder—was there a future for us? After we called it quits, I heard you’d started running with a totally different crowd. I was glad for you. It seemed like they really appreciated you for who you are—music snobs, indie labels, and audiophiles. They’re not my crowd, but I get the attraction. It was happy for you, because I knew they would treat you well.

Now that you’re back on my radar, I realize that other people have been talking about you. And maybe I’m feeling a little jealous, remembering what we shared together. I’m not sure how I feel about letting the DJs, hipsters, and others get their piece of you now that you’re in the limelight again. I question their motives—are they just using you? Trying to grab some of your newfound popularity? I guess you can take care of yourself. Or are you using them? Are you into the younger crowd now? Not sure if I want to know.

I’m conflicted. I don’t want you to think I’ve been carrying a torch all these years, but I said I needed to be honest. Seeing you again has unearthed something within me. Some friends recently gave me an old Zenith “Wedge” stereo receiver—complete with turntable. It was a process of working through the old emotions and memories, but I set it up anyways. It sounds good—very good, actually.

I guess, what I’m saying is—maybe you could stop by some time.