APT.

Apata-pate. Apata-pate. Apata-pate. Uh! Uh-huh, uh-huh.

Apata-pate. Apata-pate. Apata-pate. Uh! Uh-huh, uh-huh.

The lyrics of ROSÉ and Bruno Mars’ “APT.” have been spinning like a merry-go-round through my head all afternoon.

Apata-pate, as I wait for Korean takeout, bibimbap.

Apata-pate, as I work on copywriting and feel myself fading.

Apata-pate, as I try on some clothes at Lululemon.

Uh! Uh-huh, uh-huh! I sing to my mom as we walk through the small Target’s aisles.

“Emmie knows all the lyrics,” Tillie told me yesterday at the playground as Emmie sang “kissy-face, kissy-face,” but I didn’t recognize the song at the time. As we climbed aboard the M79 crosstown, I told her we could watch the music video when we got to my parents’.

We watched it 3 times. I definitely recognized the song as soon as the first verse began. In fact, not only did I recognize the song — I knew most of the words! But I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it or how I’d learned it.

As I sit typing this slice now, I wonder: Could it be on the “P.E. 5th grade!!!” playlist that M and V made?

I open Spotify, tap on the playlist, and sure enough, 20 tracks down, there it is.

A song that somehow wormed its way through my subconscious, the lyrics imprinting themselves in my hippocampus.

Don’t you want me like I want you, baby?

Don’t you need me like I need you now?

Sleep tomorrow, but tonight go crazy,

All you gotta do is just meet me at the—

See, I’m a sucker for pop music. Always have been, always will be. During my teenage years, and most of college, I tried to play it “cool,” like I didn’t care for the pop hits on the radio, but the truth is, ever since my parents raised me on The Beatles, I’ve been a total sucker for that verse, pre-chorus, chorus, verse, pre-chorus, chorus, bridge, chorus anatomy of a pop song.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m also a huge fan of plenty of other genres: folk, reggaeton, hip-hop, R&B, rap, rock, alternative, funk, disco, jazz. Give me a good beat, smart lyrics, or a catchy melody, and I’m all there.

I remember a couple of years ago, a friend’s husband shook his head at me as I sang along to the Bad Bunny song playing in his car, after I’d just told them about the Taylor Swift concert I’d been to.

But is it really so strange, or so surprising? Bad Bunny says it himself in NUEVAYoL: “¿Cómo Bad Bunny va a ser rey del pop, ey / Con reggaetón y dembow? Ey”

Uh! Uh-huh, uh-huh.