Aug

1

2014

The Summer Fling I Never Had

summer fling

I’ve never had a summer fling. Those kids from Grease make it sound like such fun! If I had a summer fling, I imagine his name would be Jacques and his hair would be as dark as a David Lynch film. We’d meet in a hilarious and adorable way, like perhaps he accidentally took my drink at Starbucks, and I would tease him for thinking my name was anything like his, and he’d have a fiery French temper but an English wit, and he’d say something like, “I deeply apologize for the horror I caused; let me make it up to you.”

And he’d make it up to me by picking me up at my hotel (yes, I’m suddenly on vacation, it’s summer, where else would I be) on his Vespa, and I’d be very nervous at the prospect of riding on a Vespa, and he would say, “Shhh, I steer her well.” And I’d trust him, because that’s what you do when you’re on vacation in a fantasyland. You trust the guy with the Vespa.

I’d cling to him as we’d zip throughout the city, all the way out to the beach, where he’d procure wine and cheese from his Vespa. Oh, and there’s a blanket, somehow. Somehow he fit a blanket, because he’s magical Jacques. We’d sit on the blanket and drink wine and he wouldn’t ask me even once, “So what do you do for a living” because he knows such questions are mundane and boring and make me fret about my future. We’d exchange rapid-fire banter like we were in a Nora Ephron film, or hell, an episode of Gilmore Girls. It would be the exact mental stimulation I’d need. He’d keep me on my pedicured toes and then we’d dive in to the water, together, and I wouldn’t feel self conscious about my “bikini body” because he’s already make it clear that he thinks I am the most beautiful woman on Earth. I’d point out that Charlize Theron is also on planet Earth, and he’d say, “Shhhh” and then blow confetti out of his palm.

Because whimsy.

After the beach he’d drop me off at my hotel, always the gentleman, so that I could change for dinner. We’d go somewhere where men are required to wear a jacket and tie — that’s how you know this is a fantasy, as such places don’t exist anymore. But we’d find it and we’d go there, and I would eat and eat and drink and drink and dinner would feel like our own little Disneyland; a place where we can have fun and be indulgent and no one can judge us. He would insist on ordering one dessert with two forks, and the most magical thing about this meal is that at no point during the meal do we ever check our phones, not even once.

I suppose we’d make love that night, and I say “make love” because that’s what he would say, and the best part is, it wouldn’t sound cheesy or creepy or weird. He’d have that uncanny ability to utter the phrase, “shall we make love” and have it sound as though it were a brilliant and novel idea.

And we’d repeat this every day, sometimes changing it up and going to wine tastings, sometimes just spending the whole day in bed, sometimes just wandering around whatever made up city we’re in, and I would never have to plan anything and he’d insist on paying for almost everything, because he’s old school. He’s so old school he’d drape his jacket over a puddle and insist I walk upon it, and I wouldn’t at first, but he’d beg, and I’d say, “C’est la vie” and he’d roll his eyes and call me a “typical American” and we’d bicker but there’s so much passion there that we’d probably wind up eloping by the end of my vacation and we’d realize it was a very very bad mistake but neither of us would want to admit it, so we’d stayed married for 10 years while he had numerous affairs and I pretended not to notice.

Ah, don’t you just love summer flings?!

 

Originally posted on The Gaggle, by me. Photo by Gordon Parks via LIFE photo archives for Google.

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Posted in: dating, HAVE THE GREATEST SUMMER EVER!, i don't even know, let's just talk from our hearts

{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }

Kate @ GreatestEscapist.com August 3, 2014 at 6:10 pm

I’ve had two summer flings, one with a guy named Cody who got back together with his ex as soon as the summer ended, & one named Brandon, who I had sex with on a pool table & who gave me chlamydia. COOL STORIES, BRO. Fuck summer flings. Whimsy my ass.

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Almie Rose August 4, 2014 at 12:45 pm

LOL I both love and treasure this comment.

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Julie August 5, 2014 at 11:44 pm

THIS dear Almie Rose is good writing. I just loved it. You really gave me a good smile this morning and I thank you for that.
Julie

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Almie Rose August 6, 2014 at 12:47 pm

Thank you, dear Julie!! xo.

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Allyson September 15, 2014 at 5:00 pm

I almost had this happen to me. I went to Paris to visit my best friend and she had to work one day so I decided it would be a good day to check out the Louvre since she had been there a billion times anyways.

I was sitting outside drinking coffee and smoking and writing down what I saw that day (and obviously feeling super French, ooh la la) when a seriously beautiful man came up to me and asked if I spoke English. I told him I did, and we started talking and he asked if I wanted to hang out the rest of the afternoon. Turns out, he was an Abercrombie model who was in Paris for work… uh what. We strolled around the Louvre for a while and then left and went to the river and split a bottle of wine… and then I had to leave to meet my friend and I chickened out on pursuing things further because I was seriously intimidated by his beauty.

It’s one of those stories that sometimes I tell at parties but then leave out the end because it has SO MUCH PROMISE and then goes absolutely nowhere.

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