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Limp Bizkit’s ‘Significant Other’ at 25: Perhaps It’s Time To Stop Telling People You Lost Your Virginity to This Album

Limp Bizkit’s ‘Significant Other’ has hit the quarter-century mark this year and so does the anniversary of you losing your virginity. Unfortunately, the two are not mutually exclusive. The album that gifted the world with the timeless poetry of “Nookie” and the existential musings of “Break Stuff” is intrinsically tied to the awkward and brief encounter you had with your high school sweetheart. But perhaps now is a good time to reconsider how we share this personal anecdote tied to this iconic piece of nu-metal history.

Let’s set the scene: You’re at a party, the conversation is flowing, and someone, perhaps out of nostalgic irony, throws “9 Teen 90 Nine” on the speakers. I think the time has passed for you to tell everyone, “Holy shit, I lost my virginity to this album.” There’s a certain charm in owning your past, but maybe, just maybe, it’s time to retire that particular tale. What twenty years ago was a source of pride and ten years ago became a self-deprecating tale of youthful ignorance. Now it is just kind of tactless. No one knows what to do with that information and it makes any interaction really uncomfortable.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Limp Bizkit’s Significant Other was a cultural phenomenon, that hit #1 in Canada. It was the soundtrack to countless adolescent rebellions, poorly thought-out fashion choices, and questionable haircuts. But there’s a certain social currency in how we frame our coming-of-age stories, and as much as we might hold this album dear, it’s not exactly the romantic serenade that gets the hearts fluttering.

Like, we get the irony of Fred Durst’s crooning “Nookie” as you fumbled through the ineptitude of your teenage sexual awakening, but it doesn’t make for good storytelling. It’s more like a chaotic montage of baggy jeans, your parent’s basement, the breakup anthem ‘Re-Arranged’ coming on at the worst possible time, and ultimate disappointment for both partners. Romantic, right?

Moreover, please consider the poor souls who have to listen to this confession. Imagine their expressions as you recount the night Wes Borland’s guitar work provided the soundtrack to your most intimate moments. Instead of evoking feelings of nostalgia, you’re more likely to inspire confusion, discomfort, and secondhand embarrassment. They might politely nod, but inside, they’re desperately searching for a way to change the subject to something, anything, less cringe-inducing.

So, as we celebrate Significant Other turning 25, let’s do so with a nod to the past but also a recognition of how far we’ve come. Blast “Nobody Like You” in your car with the windows down, scream along to “Break Stuff” when you’re having a bad day, and wear your faded red baseball cap. But maybe, just maybe, keep the story of how you lost your virginity to this album in the vault of youthful indiscretions.