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We Want a Summer Romance

We want summer romances. We want to count stars on the beach. We want to drink lemonade out of the same glass and eat ice cream from the same cone. We want to be kissed where the sun hit us too hard and cry when the sky turns grey on a day that was supposed to be “perfect.” We want a romance that consumes us for two weeks at a shabby motel with only one pool and no color TV. We want beach towels and flip flops that aren’t ours but the lover’s standing out there on the boardwalk with the wind whipping through their sun bleached hair. We want laughter and water gun fights. We want seashells and necklaces. We want cheesy Spongebob references and moments where we say “No, this is Patrick.” We want sunsets on a deserted beach and moments where the only thing you feel is their touch on your skin. We want to stuff our faces with hotdogs and hamburgers and soda and complain to each other about how we’re never moving again. We want those perfect moments. We want summer romances.

But we also want the end. We want to realize that in a few days they‘ll be gone. We want to watch the distance form. We want the anger and the frustration. We want to tear up stupid necklaces and bracelets that they gave us. We want to watch people go on with their happy lives. We want to mourn our own. We want to watch the rain clouds form. We want that last fight to play out with a bang. We want to watch them load their cars with their luggage. We want to see them remember those memories and we want to see them want it back. We want to watch as they drive away and we want to look at their picture in a cheap drugstore frame. We want to watch the phone to see if they call and we want to cry when they never do. We want to leave and go back home. We want to get distracted and forget them. We want to go on with our lives and meet new people. We want to live the rest of the summer and not think of their name ever again.

But then we want to see their picture in that cheap frame at the bottom of the suitcase as the new school year comes around. We want to pick up that picture and smile and remember them but not feel so sad anymore. We want to throw that picture in a drawer and forget them all over again. We want the year to pass. We want summer to start again. We want to go to that same spot and see them. We want to see them with another person, and we do. So we move on. We forget them. The cycle starts all over. We want a summer romance.




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