Listening to Tennis reminds me of you.
At first, I couldn't figure out why; I just knew that when I hear the strains of My Better Self, I wish I was having a cold beer with you. After approximately 182 listens to Tennis, I've figured out why they remind me of you.
When I started listening to them, I never thought, "This will be a band I'll love." It was a casual decision based on downloading random bands from the Internet. A few weeks later, I realized I hadn't gone a day without listening to them.
And isn't that how we became close in the first place? We never said, "This'll be a person I'll keep for a long time." We were just acquaintances who took the train together and found happiness in discussing pop culture. My fondness for you crept on me, and one day I woke up with the realization that I've been listening to you for so long that it feels weird not to.
Despite listening to Tennis frequently, I still haven't fully appreciated all their songs. But sometimes, the music and the lyrics would hit a nerve, and I would unearth a new musical gem, buried but intact and prepared to offer me a new—yet familiar—experience.
In much the same manner, I'm constantly discovering new ways in which you make me happy, peaceful, sad, mad, and hurt, among a gamut of other emotions you invoke in me. Just when I feel I know everything there is to know about you, you surprise me. In spite of all the years we've spent together, somehow, you can always get me to think of or feel something I haven't before.
When Traveling plays, I'm awash with nostalgia, of the idle nights spent with you under the stars. It fills me with gratitude for past and present happiness, and hope for it in the future. Granted, I could make a playlist of the many, many songs that remind me of you, but nothing strikes a chord quite as powerful as Tennis does. Their music is all at once joyful and pensive, and I could not think of two words to better describe how you make me feel.
