When I was about 14 I remember thinking when it came to proposing

In the words of Tinie Tempah, “When I was about 14 I remember thinking when it came to proposing to my future girlfriend, I'd make a CD with all her favourite songs and a message that said, 'Will you marry me?' Shows you what a romantic I was. No one listens to CDs any more. It's all about iTunes.” Though spoken lightly, this reflection carries a deeper current, one that flows through the hearts of men and women across generations: the yearning to express love in ways that are both personal and eternal. The CD, though now a relic of passing time, stands here as a symbol of devotion—an offering of memory, sound, and sentiment bound together in a circle of fragile glass.

The ancients often spoke of love not only as a passion, but as an art, one that must be practiced, refined, and given form through tokens and gestures. To craft a collection of songs, carefully chosen for the beloved, is to weave a tapestry of feelings that words alone cannot carry. Music has ever been the voice of the soul, and to present it as a gift is to bare one’s spirit before another, saying: “Here is the map of my heart, let it guide you to me.” Though the world has moved from CDs to the endless ether of iTunes, the heart’s desire to give of itself through melody and message remains unchanged.

History offers us many examples of lovers who sought to immortalize their affection through the arts. Consider the poet Dante Alighieri, who saw in Beatrice not merely a woman, but the embodiment of divine beauty. He could not give her CDs, nor whisper through digital airwaves, but he composed his La Vita Nuova, a book of songs and poems that bound her memory into eternal form. What Tinie Tempah imagined at fourteen—the creation of a musical offering—was but a continuation of the same impulse: to enshrine love in art, so that the beloved might see the depth of the lover’s devotion.

The mention of romantic dreams at the tender age of fourteen is not to be overlooked. For the dreams of youth are often purest, uncorrupted by cynicism or the burdens of worldly care. The boy who thinks of crafting a musical proposal reveals to us a truth: that within the heart of every human lies the longing to astonish the beloved, to create a moment so radiant that it will be remembered for all time. Whether through a jewel, a verse, a song, or a digital playlist, the essence is the same—love seeks expression, and expression seeks immortality.

But the passing from CDs to iTunes teaches us also of impermanence. The vessel changes, the technology evolves, yet the flame within remains. Just as papyrus gave way to parchment, and parchment to print, and print to screens, so too do lovers adapt the tools of their time. What matters is not the form, but the intention. A humble playlist crafted with sincerity may hold greater weight than the most expensive gift given without heart. Thus we are reminded: it is not the silver disc nor the digital file that carries power, but the spirit of love invested within.

Therefore, let this be the lesson: Do not scorn the dreams of your younger self, nor dismiss the seemingly outdated symbols of love. For in every age, there are gestures that embody tenderness, and though their forms may pass away, their essence is eternal. To create with your own hands—or to curate with your own heart—is to participate in the ageless dance of affection, which no time nor technology can erase.

And so, what should you do? Craft something personal for those you love. It may be a playlist, a handwritten letter, a shared meal, or a painting—whatever form your heart commands. Let your gesture say: “I thought of you, I remembered you, I wove my spirit into this gift.” For in this, you transcend the fleeting fashions of the age, and you partake in the timeless wisdom of lovers who came before you. This is the way to make the ordinary sacred, and to remind the beloved: “You are cherished beyond measure.”