Does anyone still make love to music?
I’m serious.
There was a time — not a fantasy, not a movie scene, a *real* time — when intimacy had a soundtrack. When getting close to someone meant slowing the world down long enough to actually feel it.
A fire going.
A drink warming your hand.
A piece of someone you care about resting in the other.
A record turning quietly in the corner, giving the room its pulse.
Back then, setting the mood wasn’t a performance.
It wasn’t something to be embarrassed by.
It was *the way* you showed intention.
Somehow, we let that slip.
Somehow, everything became faster and cheaper.
Sex turned from a journey into a task.
A quick biological checkmark.
Get in, get out, don’t look too sentimental doing it.
The build-up — the part that made everything mean something — got tossed aside like it was outdated. We made “romantic effort” look cheesy. Since when is choosing a song for someone, a song whose lyrics say the things we’re too clumsy or too scared to say ourselves… laughable?
How the hell is that cheesy?
Sexy was never about bodies.
Sexy lives in the mind.
It always has.
A look.
A breath.
A hand placed with intention — not entitlement.
A song that tells someone, *“I’m thinking about you, and I want this to feel like something.”*
Which brings me to the real question:
When did seduction become a bad word?
Because seduction wasn’t always dirty.
It wasn’t coercion.
It wasn’t manipulation.
It wasn’t tricking someone into wanting you.
Real seduction — the good kind — was always about **invitation**.
It was two people orbiting each other, not hunting.
Mutual gravity, not control.
A dance where both people lean in at the same time.
But we wrecked that socially.
We turned desire into a job instead of a rhythm.
We told men they have to initiate everything.
We told women their job is to respond.
We built this whole stupid system with a one-way flow of seduction, as if only one person is allowed to want, and the other is supposed to judge whether the performance was good enough.
If seduction always flows one way, it’s not seduction — it’s labor.
It’s performance.
It’s pressure.
And no one feels sexy under pressure.
The truth — the one nobody talks about — is that *everyone* wants to feel desired.
Men. Women. Everyone.
Even the people who pretend they don’t.
Even the ones who act like they’re above it all.
Seduction is supposed to loop.
To feed back.
To build.
To breathe.
You show interest.
They show interest.
You move closer.
They lean in.
You pick the song.
They pick the moment.
It’s a duet, not a monologue.
But people got scared.
Not of seduction — of looking foolish for trying.
Of caring too openly.
Of putting effort in and not getting it returned.
Somehow effort became cringe.
Somehow intention became cheesy.
Somehow people forgot that vulnerability is the foundation of every real intimate moment that ever mattered.
But the truth is simple:
We didn’t lose romance because it stopped working.
We lost it because people got embarrassed to try.
And if you strip everything else away — the noise, the fear, the distractions — we all still want the same thing:
To feel wanted.
To feel chosen.
To feel like someone picked a song for us because they had something to say and didn’t know how to say it out loud.
Music in the background.
Firelight.
A slow hand on a hip.
A beat that matches the rhythm of how you feel.
You’re not a romantic.
You’re not old-fashioned.
You’re normal.
Everyone else just forgot.