Let's make bad decisions in honor of summer

It was one of those weekends when we were just living, you know? Being born and raised in a country where every year you know that there is an 80% chance of summer failing you; when it doesn’t you appreciate it SO much. And now it was a million degrees outside, Stockholm looking her absolute cutest dressed up in pollen. I on the other hand was dressed in a bright green swimsuit and a pair of vintage Levi’s (terrible outfit for bathroom visits at the club, but nevertheless a great look which I’ll definitely revisit), sipping on aperol spritzes all day all night living out the fiery Italiana I could’ve been had I only been born in Italy.

By 9pm I had sweated out all the drinks and then some while dancing, heard that I look like Robin from How I Met Your Mother in the bathroom line and dodged convos with approximately four high school crushes; basically it was just another night out. When we stepped off the dance floor for some air I ran into this guy who I’ve been dming with for a little while (this is the reality we live in you guys, get over it) and we fell into flirty conversation right away. It’s interesting because in a way I feel like I know him. He completely consumed me with his energy. I don’t know if he’s just very French, on drugs or naturally that intense. And I mean, who are we kidding? Does it really matter? He showed a piece I’ve written, that he apparently has reread three times, to everyone around making them read it; going on and on about how good it is. I sat next to his friend in silence as the friend read. It was weird. Standing before us he then exclaimed, “It’s so good, isn’t it???”. It made me really happy, because he meant it.

I would’ve made him my husband already, had he not been so good looking. Unfortunately life has treated him with the looks of I don’t know… a fucking god… and he acts just like a person who looks like that would. Disappearing out of nowhere, but then compensating with the grabbing of a hand or a cute text. So so flaky and so so charming, which when combined results in completely irresistible. Hence the swarms of little girls around him that I just do not have time or energy to deal with.

However, there is something so pleasurably frustrating in wanting someone who is unattainable. Like picking an ingrown hair on your thigh or listening to the song you and your ex would smoke cigarettes to on late summer nights. It’s out of your control. Good thing I’m a writer and can blame every bad decision on me being out there getting material.

So what the heck, let’s just run into summer and ignore the threat of it, or anything really, failing us.