Dear Margo Wildman,

A funny thing happened to me recently. It happened like this: I dropped off my kids at school, and then I biked up the street to our local bakery to buy a loaf of bread where, waiting in line, I heard a song come on the radio. Damn, I thought, this song is a bop. This is a real jam. What is this? I pulled out my phone, and it told me that I was listening to Midnight Sun by Zara Larsson. I put my phone back in my pocket, paid for my bread, and biked home, where I put on my good headphones and listened to the song three times in a row. It’s catchy. It’s like… a hyperpop-inflected drum and bass track, pretty vocals, nice beat drop. It’s a cute song about going to your cabin in the woods for midsommar and feeling happy. It’s good, I thought. I also thought that it sounded gay as hell. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but this song… to my ears, this song clearly sounds like doing mdma at a Pride rave. It sounds like getting dolled up and going dancing in a sweaty basement. It sounded like…