You know, I’ve heard sexual songs before. Hip-hop, pop, rock, even country litter what would be a beautiful record collection within my hard drive. This means I know it all, and that means I know that nothing is as it seems. of Montreal whispered to me that my body was actually an earthquake, and Bon Iver sometimes urges me to “multiply.”  Even Death Cab knew how it sometimes was, narrating the stories of women who don’t know they deserve better and others who give up on fulfilling sexuality too soon.

But there is something to be noted about Regina Spektor’s “Dance Anthem of the 80′s.” The song is frank: “there’s a meat market down the street, where boys and girls watch each other eat,” she explains to us all, “but they really just want to watch each other sleep.” So, she knew us all along, then, be it because she watched us strut down sidewalks with arms linked (or because she’s keeping tracks on all those kids traversing campus in the jeans, plaid, or toga from the night before).

But “Dance Anthem” is less about sex than it is about that difficult path to becoming a sexual being. I knew the song was special when she started telling a vague and generic story that suddenly came to life as my own, and, as I realize now, a little bit of everyone’s, sometimes difficult journey to sexual independence.

“I went walking through the city, like a drunk, but not, with my slip showin’ a little, like a drunk, but not- and I am one of your people, but the cars don’t stop. It’s been a long time since before I’ve been touched, and now I’m gettin’ touched all the time. It’s a matter of whom, and it’s a matter of when.”

I was struck by the imagery of that scenario, one that captures every step of that process. We begin carefree, trusting, and unaware of the implications of seeking pleasure in the society we live in. Then, we find ourselves caught alone when we realize that to do this hookup thing for ourselves, we need to truly appreciate ourselves. And then- the realization. The sudden, closing, and empowering thought that even if pleasure seeking means some lost pride and some missteps along the way, it is the self-assurance that every night belongs to our desires that keeps our heads raised. Learning to express sexual desire means nobody else controls those desires, or our actions. They belong, finally, to us, and not to the media, the textbooks, or anyone else.

Except maybe Regina.