Anyone who’s ever been out of their hometowns to any place really far-off can vouch for the fact that the concept of summer love is NOT a myth. It happens to the best of us, to the worst of us.
It happens that you’re out on a family vacay but the family’s a little too much for you to take. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. Alcohol-less, they are pretty much the exact definition of bizarre. And now, mojitos have taken over. Everybody knows mojitos are bitches.
You decide the day-long ‘rejuvenating’ trekking trip with the folks was a lot to digest and you grab your book, your Ipod, your earphones and sneak out to the beach for a little ‘you’ time.
You settle down on the beach, looking at the glorious sunset and the massively beautiful bonfire they’ve set up for the lot of you on the beach itself.
You adjust your earphones and crank up the music, except at the moment cranking up probably means mentally drooling over ‘La Vie En Rose’ and humming it as you go. It’s a beautiful song, okay.
Suddenly, someone taps your shoulder lightly, breaking your reverie. You look up, all annoyed. You were just getting to the high note, dang it.
You start to abuse, but your breath suddenly falls short as your eyes meet up with the most amazing turquoise eyes ever. A dimpled smile diverts your attention as a deep voice vibrates, “That’s a great song.”
You gulp noisily and nod your head slightly, not trusting your voice.
And in that moment, all future rejuvenating trekking trips go out the window as you sit on the beach, in the glorious sunset, watching the bonfire cackle, next to the most gorgeous guy you have ever seen.
Summer love is possibly the only thing absolutely encouraging about family trips to exotic places. Sue me, but family is too much to take, ANYWHERE. Home, or otherwise.
But, the beauty of summer love is that it is short-lived. That it is over before you get to the embarrassing parts about each other. Before you can fall in love; the forever kind. It’s over before your realize you want different things in life.
It’s over before you realize that hand gestures and broken words coupled with kisses and cuddles are cute, but you can’t communicate like that forever.
It’s over before you realize you don’t live here. It’s over before you realize it would’ve never worked anyway.
And then, in the very end, all you are left with is a buttload of beautiful memories, a bitter-sweet rushed kiss at the airport and a very high bar for the next guy you meet.