A Story About Love And Summer

I never meant to fall for him. The winter wonderland inside my chest seemed like a good place to settle in when I was dead tired from the day. But the moment he touched my hand, I heard a few shots of fireworks erupt above our heads. Naturally, I ignored them. Because I was never good with feelings. I always become a garbage version of myself when I fall in love.

But there was something about those ocean eyes that drew me near his galaxy. I tried to put spaces between us, not knowing that my desires would push me even closer beside him — almost skin to skin. So I stopped swimming against my emotions. I jumped out of my comfort zone and entertained the idea of, you know, falling in love.

It was the summer of 2018 when the icy exteriors of my heart finally melted. No trace of winter wonderland could be seen anywhere inside of me. I liked him — both the idea of him and who he was as a person. He was not like all the other guys.

He was sour but also sweet — this he said when our mouths smelled like alcohol. And I believed him when he uttered those words. I mean, when a guy told you who he was, how could you not believe him?

In less than a month, I carved a place for him inside my head. Most of my summer nights were spent thinking about him and our conversations and the times we shared together. I slept less and less and I wanted to see him more and more. I smelled like a trash each morning I rolled off of my bed.

You couldn’t call this experience a love story. That would be ridiculous. Because for it to be a love story, two people should have mutual understanding, or feelings — whatever you want to call it. And we didn’t have that. 

But it was a story of the love that I felt because of him. And in as much as it sounded weird for me to admit that, it was the truth and I had to set it free. 

I read somewhere that dating is a mess in your 20s. And I would love to think that this was another mess I had to scoop up and throw away. I still have plenty of time to right what went wrong. The night is pretty much young.

Maybe there’s a guy out there who will see that beyond my rough edges, there’s a soft person living inside of me. A man who will not freak out by my strong opinions about some things in this world. Maybe meeting him was just a trial, a test run, a warm up for something bigger. For someone better.

And who knows? Maybe next summer I will have another story to tell. Maybe next summer I will finally find what I’m looking for.