5. Relationship of Command: At the Drive-In

I mostly listened to grrl rock like Tori and Fiona, but something about the rawness of lead singer Cedric Bixler’s (now of the far inferior Mars Volta) voice and the frantic intensity of the music really appealed to me. Maybe it was an outlet for my teenage anger and angst, or maybe it just made me feel cool. Either way, the album still kicks ass.

4. Rated R: Queens of the Stone Age

I listened to this album over and over after I broke up with my first boyfriend. It’s not an especially sad album, so I don’t know why it brought me so much comfort, but it really became a security blanket. I can’t listen to it now without feeling a little sad and really, really nostalgic. Which is a shame, because it also kicks ass.

3. The Blue Album: Weezer

The World Has Turned and Left Me Here was the theme song of my junior year, also known as the year of awful braces and being overlooked for a good part in the school play. I was a nerd, and Weezer understood that–they spoke for me in the most beautifully simple and poignant way a band could. Sadly, I’ve listened to this album so many times that I cannot listen to it ever again.

2. Doolittle: The Pixies

Immediately when I heard this album I knew without a doubt that the Pixies were going to be my favorite band. And seven or eight years later, they probably still are.

I wore out every Pixies album I could get my grubby little hands on and I never, ever grew tired of them. Doolittle was schizophrenic brilliance and I felt better, smarter, just listening to it. It made me want to leave my small town and strike out, it made me want to dance, and it gave me one of my most persistent role models in Kim Deal. Minus the whole alcoholism thing.

1. Boys for Pele: Tori Amos.

This album will always make me think of my best friend in high school, and driving around at all hours in her old car that hardly ran. We listened to this album and talked about our lives, our fears, our crushes, our futures, loving Tori’s impertinence, her boldness. She was the adult version of what we wanted to be, wiser for all of her youthful indiscretions.

The album, too, was all about frustration with men and relationships, and although our situations were greatly different, I felt like I understood everything she sang about.

What albums defined your teenage years? Can you still listen to them?

[Photos from Wikipedia]

Sheela-na-Gig – PJ Harvey. PJ tries to make sexy time with her gentleman caller. He turns her down flat. This leads to the most glorious song in the history of angry lady rock. Anyone who can work “dirty pillows,” “childbearing hips” and South Pacific into a single lyric deserves some kind of lifetime achievement award. Also, a boyfriend who will put out.

Soap Star Joe – Liz Phair. So, yes: Liz sold out, and the cool kids don’t listen to her any more. This is a shame, because her first album, “Exile in Guyville,” is the world’s best argument against dating hipster scum. Soap Star Joe is totes famous, lady. I mean, you don’t know him, but he’s got the connections. He’s doing you a favor, hanging out with you and your nobody pals. All he asks in return is that you sleep with him. Because he’s lonely… so very, very lonely…

Dude Yr So Crazy!! – Le Tigre. Again with the hipster hate! Le Tigre recites, with supreme boredom, the cliches that define every scrawny bearded guy you’ve ever kissed and regretted. Big collection. Independent… Big budget, dirty hair… Obscure reference. Likes parties. Fake childhood. Muscle tee.

Baby Vampire Made Me – Helium. Mary Timony makes her second appearance with a sprightly ditty about getting knocked up by a vampire. Hey, it can happen to anyone! This song is a perfect companion piece when your lover is draining your will to live.

If I Think of Love – Lisa Germano. Lisa runs a brief inventory of every way that sex and love have screwed with her head, and concludes that she’s better off without them. This song is the voice of reason, which I, for one, never plan to heed.

Everything’s Alright – Kimya Dawson. Oh, hell. You’re sleeping with him again, aren’t you? I knew it. These posts are always too long. Anyway, listen to Kimya, and ask yourself, as she does, why do I always pretend I can spoon a guy and still be his friend? Is it because you are dangerously deluded? Yes, I believe it is. Spooning is the friendship-killer. Let’s move on.

I Am Trying To Break Your Heart – Wilco. So, when I started to assemble this playlist, I had a very strict “ladies only” policy. Then Jeff Tweedy crashed my party. Now, he whispers to me, in the voice of every confusing-ass boy throughout history. He didn’t want to sleep with you after that party! He didn’t want to stop seeing you altogether! He didn’t want commitment! He didn’t want to push you away! He is a fragile, troubled man-child! His needs are known to no one! Did he mention that he maybe drinks too much? Because he does! Hey, do you want to hang out with him on Friday?

Oh, Mr. Tweedy. As long as men like you exist, I will need to make playlists about you. Salud, my friend.

As embarrassing as this is, I must admit, that during my four years in college I, like most college students, had my fair share of random hookups.

Of course, as this was college, these hookups were mostly–well actually–completely fueled by extreme levels of intoxication and in some cases by peer pressure, with my girls telling me, “Oh you should totally hookup with him, he’s so hot.”

It’s not that I didn’t date in college, I did. It was just that the guys who wanted to date me were well, boring. I went out on fancy dates with guys, many of whom I eventually became good pals with, that were not guys I could see myself with long term (and for me, at the time, long term meant at least three months) and more importantly, were not guys I could see myself having sex with long term.

Besides, the allure of a hookup was too much for me to resist. I loved how I could go out with friends, have a few (more like 5) drinks and meet some cutie. I loved how one minute I could be downing cranberry vodkas with my friends in some packed bar singing “Don’t Stop Believing” and the next I could be locking lips on my couch with a hottie who I eyed from across the room. It was just, in one word, thrilling.

Fast forward to life post graduation, I could have sworn that my days of hooking up were good and over. Well, until New Year’s Eve happened. Too much champagne plus a steamy New Year’s Eve kiss (ok, makeout session) with my friend’s boyfriend’s friend equaled my first post-collegiate walk of shame. As it was New Year’s Day, talk about not the best way to start 2008, I started thinking about resolutions and how mine should be to actually find a guy to date.

As luck should have it, a few weeks earlier, I met a nice, tall, dark and handsome hottie who is also a recent college grad, lives a few blocks from me (this is rare in New York, especially in Manhattan) and is (rarer of all) a good dancer.

Prior to the New Year we’d gone on our first date, to a cute little café near us and had brunch. The conversation flowed well and all in all, it was a successful first meeting. On New Year’s Eve, he called and we agreed to meet up for coffee the next day, as in New Year’s Day AKA the day of my first post-collegiate walk of shame.

Besides for the fact that we were both obviously really hung over, our coffee date seemed to go just as well as our first date, until he mentioned he recently got out of a long-term relationship. He didn’t dwell on this fact or say anything bad about his ex, but it still kind of unnerved me. Yet, at that moment, the thought of dating him, even if he did just get out of something semi-serious, was a whole lot more appealing than ever repeating the drunken hookup scenario from the night before and the resulting still-super-drunk walk of shame from earlier that morning.

We continued seeing each other and everything seemed to be progressing smoothly. Sure, every so often he would mention the ex, but he never went overboard (no ex bashing or sharing of intimate details of their relationship) and it was never anything I couldn’t handle.

In fact, everything seemed to be progressing so nicely that before I knew it we were having sex for the first time.

It was then that he turned into complete emotional mush. After doing the deed, he started talking about how it was the first time he’s had sex since the break-up, how us having sex really confirms that he’s single and how she was the one who cheated on him. This was definitely not what I wanted to here post-orgasm.

I snuggled up to him to tried and get him to shut up and bask in the post-sex haze, but within 15 minutes he got up, said he had a lot on his mind and left.

Well, to be fair he didn’t just up and leave, or as Liz Phair put it, “F&*ck and Run.” We talked and he said he was interested in a relationship, I told him he should move things forward when he’s ready and he kissed me, promised to call and then left.

He seemed really genuine about the whole thing and he has been in touch since then, but I can’t help thinking how I’d almost rather go back to the random hookups. The whole incident, has in a way, really made me miss having uncomplicated sex with guys who never have diarrhea of the mouth about another girl and at least stay with you all night, even if it is just to insure they’ll have another shot at hooking up with you again.

Though most of all, strangely enough, our sexual debacle has really made miss my carefree college days of downing one too many cranberry vodkas with my girls.