a mixtape for her
You can send her a playlist in two taps. She'll forget it by Thursday. A mixtape — songs you chose, a note in your handwriting, a disc she has to press play on — that she keeps.
she'll open it like a letter, not a linkA playlist says "here are some songs." A mixtape says "I thought about you while choosing every single one of these." The effort is the message. That's why people still search for burned CDs from fifteen years ago.
Anniversaries are obvious. The better moments aren't: after a dumb argument, on a random Tuesday, the day she says she's tired. A mixtape with no occasion says more than one with a reason.
She opens the link, sees a CD case with her name on the label, presses play — and each song burns for 30 seconds. At the end there's a button: burn one back.
Something true and small. 'These are the songs that played when I met you' beats any poetry. The handwriting already does the romance for you.
Yes, completely free, no account needed. Takes about two minutes to make.
Previews are 30 seconds each — that's the aesthetic. If she loves a song, that's what streaming is for. The mixtape is the gesture.
You sign the mixtape — your name appears on the disc label and in the case, like a real burned CD.