Maybe it’s time to stop telling people you lost your virginity to this album.

Limp Bizkit’s “Significant Other” album turns a quarter century old this year, and so does the anniversary of the day you lost your virginity. Unfortunately, the two aren’t mutually exclusive. The album that gave the world the timeless poetry of “Nookie” and the existential musings of “Break Stuff” is intrinsically linked to the awkward, brief encounter you had with your high school sweetheart. But maybe it’s 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 in nostalgic irony, plays “9 Teen 90 Nine” over the speakers. I think the days are long gone when you could tell everyone, “Fuck, I lost my virginity to this album.” There’s a certain charm in owning your past, but maybe, just maybe, it’s time to put that history aside. What was a source of pride twenty years ago and became a self-deprecating tale of youthful ignorance ten years ago has become a tactless one. No one knows what to do with this information, and it makes any interaction really uncomfortable.

But make no mistake. Limp Bizkit’s Significant Other was a cultural phenomenon that reached No. 1 in Canada. It was the soundtrack to countless teenage rebellions, ill-considered fashion choices, and questionable haircuts. But there’s a certain social value in how we imagine our coming-of-age stories, and while we hold the album dear, it’s not exactly the romantic serenade that gets hearts racing.

We get the irony of Fred Durst singing “Nookie” as you struggle with the ineptitude of your teenage sexual awakening, but it doesn’t make for a good story. It’s more of a chaotic montage of baggy jeans, your parents’ basement, the breakup anthem “Re-Arranged” coming at the worst possible time, and the ultimate disappointment for both partners. Romantic, right?

Also, think of the poor souls who have to hear this confession. Imagine their expressions when you recount the night Wes Borland’s guitar playing provided the soundtrack to your most intimate moments. Instead of evoking feelings of nostalgia, you’re more likely to inspire confusion, discomfort, and indirect embarrassment. They may politely nod, but deep down they’re desperate for a way to change the subject to something, anything, less awkward.

So as we celebrate 25 years of Significant Other, let’s do so with a nod to the past, but also an acknowledgement of how far we’ve come. Blast “Nobody Like You” in your car with the windows down, yell “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.