Last.fm: Tracking the demise of our relationship

Jason and I were always telling each other about new discoveries. That is what our relationship was built on. I once told him I liked having him in my life because he helped me to exercise my mind – to think in a way nothing else allowed me to do.

My first memory of Jason is from freshmen year of high school. We are sitting on the edge of a swimming pool in the school-sponsored 50s styles bathing suits distributed by the school district semester after semester for the last 40 years and I tell him that I have never seen anyone with weirder looking toes than his. With a shared first constant in our last names, often throughout high school Jason and I would sit side-by-side for attendance.

After graduation, we went to different colleges and although we didn’t keep in touch we shared mutual friends and through them were updated on one another’s lives. And then again, four years later, after another graduation, we both moved to New York. I had been looking for jobs for over two months, was broke, anxious, and spent my days in my shared Upper West Side apartment staring at my roommate’s bipolar cat that would go insane if she was not constantly petted. Bored and without any upcoming interviews, I sent Jason an email.

He called a few days later and we decided to meet for dinner at an Indian restaurant. We talked for hours – as if we had accumulated four years of experiences to tell but without a minute passing since we had seen each other last. We drew maps on the butcher paper table cloth of all the places we had traveled, realizing that we had been to many of the same places around the same time. I snuck off to the restroom in an effort to tell the waiter that it was Jason’s birthday. It wasn’t his birthday, but I knew that he would love it when the lights went out and the entire restaurant would sing a Hindi version of the Macarena. After that night, we became the closest of friends and remained so for the next three years.

Although we never again lived in the same place after that one year in New York, we would call each other two or three times a day for quick updates, email articles from the “weirdest stories of the day” (with each email trying to outdo the other one’s weird story), and make each other mix tapes of obscure bands we found. It was like we were creating our own shared culture between us. It was impenetrable. No one could understand it.

Over time, our friendship started to blur the line between “just friends” and “maybe more” and I became increasingly frustrated by Jason’s inability to recognize that we were, for all ostensible purposes, in an intimate relationship of sorts together. We then entered into a two-year period marked by months of intense love and constant communication followed by a big fight that would lead to months of hurt and silence.

This last time, after three months without speaking, Jason called during Thanksgiving to say he was sorry about what happened and that he would do whatever he could to have me back in his life. I gave him the classic ultimatum: either we tried to be in a healthy relationship with each other or we couldn’t talk. It took him a month to answer. He sent an email explaining that I was “the source of stress, but also the solution to it. Let’s try it.” I was shocked, scared, and ultimately elated and with that we began to relate differently to each other. We both seemed more aware of how nice it was to have each other in one another’s lives. It had been many months since we had seen one another and I suggested that he should visit. He came to New York – which felt very full circle to our initial re-meeting at the Indian restaurant five years before – and that is when Jason introduced me to last.fm.

Last.fm is internet radio meets social networking. The downloaded player tracks the music you are listening to, makes recommendations of music you would like based on that music, and allows you to connect to friends and “neighbors” who may have similar music taste. In addition, the website allows users to monitor what your friends are listening to with real time information. As soon as Jason left New York I signed up for the free service. Jason was my only friend on Last.fm and I couldn’t wait for this kind of access (or surveillance, I should say) of his life. I clicked onto his profile and Last.fm notified me that our compatibility was “very high.” I wasn’t sure if the website was referring to our relationship or music. I posted a message to Jason’s “shoutbox” that said “Last.fm seems to think our compatibly is very high – what do you think? He didn’t respond to that particular message and instead recommended a band that he thought I might like.

Over the next three weeks after Jason’s visit to New York, I used last.fm daily as the music helped me focus on my work, not to mention that I felt that my hipness was increasing daily as I discovered new music that none of my friends had ever heard of. I listened to Jason’s playlists and would smile thinking about how many songs it included that we had given to each other as gifts over the years. Our relationship seemed to be moving in the direction I had hoped for, but in the meantime, work was becoming increasingly stressful and I was becoming frustrated and overwhelmed.

Jason had always been there to support me during these times. He was one of few people who could make me forget what I was upset about – and that’s what I loved him for. But in these weeks, he was less and less available and more and more short with me on the phone. During this time I noticed that our last.fm compatibility ranking had changed from “very high” to “high.” I figured that I had been listening to mellow indie rock in an effort to relax and he was listening to country music to spite me. It was harder and harder to listen to his playlist.

I tried to explain to Jason that I was feeling depressed – a combination of work and that him and I hadn’t been communicating well since his visit. He told me to snap out of it. We went several days without talking and then he sent me a text message that read “I can’t tell if you are really depressed, you haven’t sign into last.fm in 12 hours and so I don’t know what you are listening to.” I laughed and felt loved again; but then I didn’t hear from him for several more days. Trying to focus on my work, I signed in to last.fm. Compatibly ranking: medium.

The next time we spoke he called to tell me that he had received a fellowship to live in New York for the summer and he would call me the next day to tell me more. That is what I had wanted all along, to have him close by for the summer, but now it didn’t seem right. I knew that something had changed between us. He never called the next day and I never called him. We had talked non-stop over the last few months and now it had been nearly ten days since we talked for more than a minute.

Jason finally called a few days later. I think I knew that it was over and had already decided that was for the best, but I answered the phone hoping that there was still time and space to talk about us. We made small talk for a few minutes and then I said, “this is awkward, what’s going on?” He sighed and then explained, “I have a girlfriend.” “Um, what?” I answered confused, “since when?” He described how it started two weeks ago with a women he had been friends with for some time. Holding back the throw-up in my mouth, I stated matter-of-factly “I feel really hurt. I feel like you haven’t been telling me the truth.” He began to yell into the phone how happy he was with this new woman and that I made things too hard. I said that I didn’t know what he expected me to say. He screamed, “You always think you are the victim” and then hung up the phone. I put down the phone, stared into space trying to piece together what just happened, and then went to my computer. I signed into last.fm – our compatibility ranking was “very low.” I erased Jason as my last.fm friend. Last.fm had validated for me what I already knew: Our music tastes had shifted along with our feelings for each other. We weren’t compatible anymore.