This is the most tragic and melancholy song I know. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, from 1961 when during early versions of the hook up culture there was still the thought that love, real actual deep personal affection and a promise of commitment, might be involved. Now we have this instead: The Humiliation of Aziz Ansari. The first para:
Sexual mores in the West have changed so rapidly over the past 100 years that by the time you reach 50, intimate accounts of commonplace sexual events of the young seem like science fiction: You understand the vocabulary and the sentence structure, but all of the events take place in outer space. You’re just too old.
The events actually take place in inner space where the pain of the hook up culture must be phenomenal. When I was a young lad, say from around the time I was 13-14 when the song first reached the charts, every date was in some sense filled with the real possibility of marriage, which was the purpose of dating. And intimate relations [what a phrase!] were practically a marriage proposal. Now, I don’t know how any of it works, but what was a bittersweet song in 1961 is a tragic reality everywhere.