It was a day like any other day. I was staring at my computer, doing relatively nothing in the grand scheme of the world except listening to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ battle it out with ‘Call Me Maybe’ on my newly created Spotify account. When one was over, the other one would start and this cycle repeated for probably an hour until I phased out ‘Call Me Maybe’ altogether and went one direction with my playlist…100% One Direction. None of my roommates were home, it was obvious the dog was diggin’ the jams, as for Spotify and I, we we’re all good. Then out of seemingly nowhere, my sister texts me.

I didn’t know what she was talking about, hence my response “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And then I looked at the sidebar listing all my friends and the music they were listening to at that very second and I realized my secret was out. Spotify was blowing up my spot. I was exposed. ”You don’t know you’re beautiful” quickly turned into “You don’t know that people you don’t talk to now know you listen to One Direction all day.” Immediately, I figured out how to go offline (FYI: Spotify Menu > Offline Mode) and sat in my self-awarded shame. Every move I was making was being transmitted in real time to my online friends. And a majority of those moves involved a British boyband and/or iCarly. I turned on Skrillex. I thought for some reason that would make things better. Anyone that was following my feed would not have been wrong in assuming I was having a hard time. No one should make that drastic a leap musically.

I couldn’t remember pushing a button asking me if I wanted to publish my up to the minute ear tickles. I usually keep my private music moments to myself. I once drove 214 miles playing only one song on repeat. That one song was by Hanson and a lot of people are haters so I told not but a soul. I finally understood how Truman felt when he found out his life was secretly a television show and I knew the only thing to do was float my boat all the way to the end of the Spotify ocean.

What does a girl have to do these days to surf the web without being chased down by the internet sharks? Get offline? In an effort to maintain my membership in Generation X, I shall never stoop so low. Clear my cache, yes. Actually buy a physical CD to listen to music in a boom box in my closet, probably not. In fact, this article about keeping my music taste a secret will be posted to far more people that I am friends with on Facebook…cue Alanis!

This whole guerilla show and tell debacle could’ve really taken a turn for the worst causing me to bury my LFO cd and all my Spice Girls Chupa Chups in my tupperware time capsule once and for all. But no. Not I. I got into a fight over a Backstreet Boys sticker in 8th grade. I saw O-Town at my mall. My Dad was forced to chaperone me at an Evan & Jaron concert. I go to spin class just in case the teacher plays Jock Jams’ “Pump It Up.” Never before had I been embarrassed by my veneration of the glorious Top 40 zeitgeist.  In fact, I just put the entire Hanson cd on my massive “Dance Around/Workout/Party/Sleep Mix” as I wrote this. There was no trying to admit that good ol’ pop music wasn’t the foundation of my eternally 13 year old soul. It was obvious. I’m a lover of loving One Direction, not a fighter of loving One Direction so why did it matter all of a sudden? Answer: It didn’t. After all, it’s just a BSB sticker music and I only have 14 friends on Spotify.

Listen to what you will, just play it loud and proud. You don’t know you’re music preferences are beautiful.