I know, I know - in winter (well, my 'winter', where the temperature just drops to the mid-twenties), I talked about how great winter romances are, and how sorely underrated they are, and how summer romances are like Gryffindors - glorified, but really very mediocre (okay, sorry, no prejudices, I love Gryffindors, but I also love taking the mick).
I haven't really changed my mind about it - I did say that summer is the time for these torrid affairs. Fleeting, hot, oh-fuck-me-now-baby type romances that crumble like a crumbly cookie, because after the sun goes behind the clouds you cease to have that terrible headache you got, and you start to see straight again, realising that really you totally dig someone else, or that love isn't worth the bother.
I was wondering why exactly this sort of thing would happen only in the summer (read previous post for numerous logical reasons that it should happen in winter), aside from the heat-induced deliriousness, of course. Maybe it's because we adolescent losers really have nothing else to do, sitting at home (feeling lonely), watching movies (getting inspired by ridiculously sappy romcoms), catching up on The Mentalist (Simon Baker makes us horny), reading Romeo and Juliet (do I need to say it, really?), wanking off (ahem), et cetera, et cetera. Perhaps it's because we stay up later than usual, chatting with our peeps, saying ridiculously flirty things late at night in a state of stupor, after a long day of being frazzled in this hellish heat.
The funny thing about summer incidents is that they leave with you the most ridiculous memories that make you feel awfully, awfully nostalgic. Especially if you have something - an object, a song, an email - that brings about a bloody tsunami of flashbacks in your poor little head. It's like listening to the music from a show that's now over - it makes you feel everything you felt then, all the feels served to you on a big plate, with no added preservatives, and a side-dish of wistfulness, absolutely free.
Anywho, I'm a big, fat romantic who has just about as much as tact as a ten-year when it comes to flirting, so needless to say the number of people I will be having smoking hot affairs with this summer is exactly zero.
... Anyway, if I did have any, can't say the boyfriend would be too pleased about it, hehe.
I haven't really changed my mind about it - I did say that summer is the time for these torrid affairs. Fleeting, hot, oh-fuck-me-now-baby type romances that crumble like a crumbly cookie, because after the sun goes behind the clouds you cease to have that terrible headache you got, and you start to see straight again, realising that really you totally dig someone else, or that love isn't worth the bother.
I was wondering why exactly this sort of thing would happen only in the summer (read previous post for numerous logical reasons that it should happen in winter), aside from the heat-induced deliriousness, of course. Maybe it's because we adolescent losers really have nothing else to do, sitting at home (feeling lonely), watching movies (getting inspired by ridiculously sappy romcoms), catching up on The Mentalist (Simon Baker makes us horny), reading Romeo and Juliet (do I need to say it, really?), wanking off (ahem), et cetera, et cetera. Perhaps it's because we stay up later than usual, chatting with our peeps, saying ridiculously flirty things late at night in a state of stupor, after a long day of being frazzled in this hellish heat.
The funny thing about summer incidents is that they leave with you the most ridiculous memories that make you feel awfully, awfully nostalgic. Especially if you have something - an object, a song, an email - that brings about a bloody tsunami of flashbacks in your poor little head. It's like listening to the music from a show that's now over - it makes you feel everything you felt then, all the feels served to you on a big plate, with no added preservatives, and a side-dish of wistfulness, absolutely free.
Anywho, I'm a big, fat romantic who has just about as much as tact as a ten-year when it comes to flirting, so needless to say the number of people I will be having smoking hot affairs with this summer is exactly zero.
... Anyway, if I did have any, can't say the boyfriend would be too pleased about it, hehe.
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