“Oh Mandy” by the Spinto Band was his discovery, I’ll give him that. I remember the first time he played it for me, in his perpetually messy bedroom. It was one of those distinctive songs that leaves you itching for a second listen the moment the final chords fade out. So we pressed repeat.

Yes, we were self-proclaimed music geeks, and one of our favorite games was the one where you stand by the stereo, finger poised just above the play button, and say to the other with a knowing smirk, “listen to this.” Sure, dating a fellow music obsessive can be great – there’s always a hand to hold at the Explosions in the Sky show – but when it comes to the relationships’ ultimate demise, you’re not only left with a shattered heart, but an iPod full of bitterly nostalgic (albeit pretty hip) musical memories.

Is it cliché to say “Oh Mandy” sounds like young love? Because it does. Urgent, ebullient, and emotional, with vocals sung oh so yearningly, and just enough bop to make it perfect for bedroom dance parties. Some of the lyrics are a bit inexplicable, to be sure – “Got a gnome in the backyard, I put him right on the X mark, he’s supposed to show me where the money is”– but the catchy hook of “Oh Mandy, oh Mandy-e-e” never gets old. The song soon became an indispensable part of the soundtrack of our relationship. When the Spinto Band released their debut album, he gave it to me for my birthday. “Oh Mandy” was the first song we “spun” at our one and only stab at DJing (one of our many unrealized ambitions). We stood in the elevated DJ booth of the bar and watched as the playlist - that we had agonized over - floated over the expertly mussed hairstyles of the indifferent hipster crowd below. Despite their apathy, I still think it was the perfect set opener. Months later, he and a friend made an amateur music video for the song, involving cameras mounted on broomsticks that spun around them as they danced around their apartment and backyard. He was proud of it, and so was I. “Oh Mandy” followed us on a winter trip to Vermont, one of the first songs we played on his car stereo as we drove through the Lincoln Tunnel and onto the New Jersey highway.

Then, of course, there was the breakup. His T-shirts and socks that were left in my room were shoved into the trash, his mix CDs quietly tucked into a corner (a music nerd does not throw out a mix CD, no matter what), and what was once one of the “top 25 most played songs” on my computer’s iTunes went unplayed for weeks, then months. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to listen to “Oh Mandy” – I craved those sunny chords and non-sensical lyrics like I do my morning coffee. But I was scared to discover the unknown emotional repercussions that those first chords would incite. Since then, the gap left by “Oh Mandy” has been filled by a plethora of new musical discoveries, ones made on my own, without his influence. I’m a brave girl, so I eventually managed to give “Oh Mandy” a couple of post-breakup listens, and it’s different now. I miss the way it sounded before. But hey, at least my name isn’t Mandy. That would just be cruel.