How a Curly-Haired Boy and a Synth-Pop Duo Taught Me About Love (and Letting Go)

I was eighteen, heart wide open, dancing in Earl Hall when "West End Girls" started playing and this guy with soft dark curly hair and the most devastating smile just walked up and started dancing with me.

That was Will Cohen, and I had exactly two choices: run like the shy boy I was, or stay and see what happened. I stayed.

After the song ended, while everyone sat on the steps either "walking the runway" or observing, my friends practically shoved me toward him, but my feet wouldn't move. So Will (beautiful brown-eyed Will) walked over instead, hands in pockets, and said "sup." That was it. That was the beginning.

At our second date at Benny's Burritos (long gone now, like so much of that Greenwich Village), he handed me a CD: The Pet Shop Boys: Discography - The Complete Singles Collection. I was an inner city kid who could recite every RnB and Hip Hop lyric, and here was this album by two brits... a whole new vibe. I wasn't ready. No idea that these British guys were about the change my life forever. "West End Girls" was our song, sure, but "It's Alright" hit me somewhere deeper. That became my jam, along with "Where the Streets Have No Name," "What Have I Done to Deserve This," and "Domino Dancing."

What I didn't know then was that I was falling for one of Britain's most successful duos Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe, who'd been making synth-pop magic since meeting in London in 1981. They hadn't made it to Harlem or the Bronx. I just knew that their synthesizer-driven sound, their lyrics about class and city life, their whole aesthetic somehow made sense of what I was feeling.

Here's the truth: I was too immature to handle what Will and I had. We broke up, as people do when they're young and still figuring out who they are. He came to my birthday party once with his new boyfriend (awkward doesn't even cover it) but seeing that smile again, those curls, I was genuinely happy for him. Shortly after, I left NYC, and we never saw each other again. But the Pet Shop Boys? They stayed. That CD, then the replacement CD, then the digital files, then the streaming playlists they've been the constant. Their sound still feels relevant today, decades later, which says everything about how timeless great synth-pop can be. Every time I hear Neil Tennant's unmistakable voice, I'm back on those Earl Hall steps, back at Benny's, back in that moment when a boy with curly hair and a British synth-pop duo taught me that love doesn't always last, but the soundtrack? That's forever. Thanks, Will. For everything. For the dance, for the "sup," and for introducing me to a band that's brought so much joy.