It starts with the clash of drums. Then a few haunting chords sneak in, teasing the melody that’s about to hit. Before I even realize it, I’m humming along to John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” And just like that, I’m transported back to the dusty hills of West Virginia, where the roads weren’t always paved, but they were ours. If someone ever made a movie about my life (a mix between “Sweet Home Alabama” but with coal miner energy and maybe a pinch of “La La Land”), this would be the opening track. My soundtrack is a little bit country, a little bit city, and 100% me. And let me tell you, figuring out the songs of your life is a lot like navigating relationships — messy, beautiful, and deeply personal.

Let’s dive into the mixtape that shaped me, my creative process, and maybe even inspired a romance or two along the way.

Track 1: “Take Me Home, Country Roads” – The Blueprint for Belonging

Growing up in rural West Virginia, music didn’t just play from radios; it spilled out of porches, faded jukeboxes, and rickety pickup trucks. And if you were in a crowd and John Denver’s velvety voice started up, you’d better believe every hand was over a heart by the second chorus. This song became a lesson I carried everywhere: connection is about belonging — to people, to places, and even to yourself.

In dating, this translates to realizing everyone’s got their “home” — a version of themselves where they feel safe and seen. First dates can feel like driving down a winding country road at night, engine growling and headlights bouncing off trees. It’s all nerves and anticipation. Take it slow, keep your eyes on what’s meaningful, and always look for that feeling of belonging. If it doesn’t feel like home (even if it’s slightly nerve-wracking home), it’s probably just a pit stop.

Track 2: “Take Five” by Dave Brubeck – Because Everyone Needs Breathing Room

Fast forward to my LA stint, where my boots traded in dirt for pavement, and my playlist got a healthy dose of jazz. This song — all syncopated rhythms and unexpected turns — was what I blasted when the city got too loud. I discovered it during a late-night writing session when life felt too big. I had bills, deadlines, and a dating life messier than a plate of biscuits and gravy. This tune taught me something huge: take five. Pause. Let the unpredictable beats flow.

It sounds simple, right? But relationships (and creativity) tend to skip the breathing room. You want to rush to the crescendo — the grand moment where everything makes sense and feels right. What “Take Five” taught me is that there’s magic in the off-beats, the silences, and even the mess-ups. Maybe it’s the song of your first awkward “I love you” moment or the silence after a fight where you’re figuring out what to say next. Just let it breathe.

Track 3: “Jolene” by Dolly Parton – The (Necessary) Pain of Vulnerability

Ah, “Jolene.” Does anyone spin heartbreak into gold quite like Dolly? There’s something about her honeyed voice begging, “Please don’t take my man,” that reminds you just how raw love can feel. Back when I was covering Appalachian culture, I’d swear every karaoke bar circle back home had a “Jolene” moment. Someone would sing, blurry-eyed, and pour their entire soul into every note. (Oddly enough, I might’ve been that guy after my first serious breakup. Sorry, Jolene—and sorry to the bartender who had to listen.)

Dolly’s story reminds us that love doesn’t come without risk. The vulnerability of laying your emotions bare, even when someone else might “steal” the person or feelings away, is the price of real connection. Rather than let fear silence you, embrace it. Tell people how you feel (just… maybe don’t do it via 2 a.m. text). Play this tune when you’re scared to get real; it’s permission to let it hurt and heal.

Track 4: “Wagon Wheel” – The Reunion Moment

Let’s be real: at least one ex of mine probably rolled their eyes reading this line. But growing up in Appalachia, “Wagon Wheel” is more than a song; it’s a call to arms (or, more specifically, a call to beers and bonfires). It reminds me of the in-between moments — coming home after being away too long and somehow feeling like you never left. Sure, I discovered jazz in LA, but songs like this were my way of keeping two feet in my roots while my head explored somewhere else.

In relationships, this is the song for the second chances, the reunions, and the moments when you remember you’re not the shiny city version of yourself — you’re still the shoe-scuffed, warm-hearted mess they fell for. Every relationship thrives when you can blend the time-tested with the adventurous, just like this track blends past and future with that perfect fiddle break.

Track 5: “Clair de Lune” – The Quiet Spaces

California also brought me the gift of classical music. I didn’t expect to fall in love with something so polished and timeless when I’d grown up with the grit of town halls and bluegrass festivals. But one night in graduate school, Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” found me. I was studying late, windows wide open, breeze waving at the curtains, and… it stopped me dead. For over five minutes, nothing else existed.

In life and love, those silent, still moments are gold. It doesn’t always need to be fireworks or grand gestures. Sometimes real intimacy is sitting in shared silence on a front porch, her foot barely brushing yours. Sometimes it’s the long drives on backroads when no one speaks, but you know everything about how they’re feeling. Intimacy is in the spaces and pauses — respect them.

Curating Your Own Soundtrack

So, how do you find the songs that shape your loves, losses, and late-night revelations? Here are a few ways to start:

  • Go Back to the Beginning: What songs remind you of growing up? Those often hold the quirkiest, rawest pieces of your identity. Lean into them.
  • Embrace the Awkward Phases: The moments where you shook off an identity, moved cities, or fell on your face? There’s a song for that. It’s proof that growth always has a soundtrack.
  • Lean Into the Love Songs (the Real Ones): Skip the over-polished ballads and go for stuff that wrecks you — the tracks that make you reconsider everything you thought about connection. Dolly’s waiting for you.

Music isn’t just something we listen to; it’s something we live. Like relationships, it’s messy, unexpected, and timeless all at once.

The Encore

It’s funny. If I could go back to that wrinkly-faced kid with dirt on his knees in West Virginia, I don’t think he’d believe his future held long dinners under city lights or midnight jazz records spinning in a quiet Maine home. But the songs stayed the same — they just sounded different as I grew.

Your soundtrack will keep evolving too. You’ll trade some songs for others, but the best ones? You’ll carry those forever, playing them on repeat whenever you need a reminder of who you were, who you’re becoming, or who you can still be. Like I said, life’s a mixtape. Let it play.