The end of summer is also the end of Summer Love. The heat is a perfect excuse to wear less clothing, baring all and strutting your stuff for all the onlookers. Who you’re with that night is not who you liked last weekend, and definitely not who you’ll be eyeing next week. It’s all part of summer love.
How your mate perceives you is now what’s important, yet you have only known each other a week, and actual knowledge is minimal (what was their last name again?). Yet, here you are all alone, just the two of you. What started only a week ago, feels ike eternity, in the heat of passion you forget to think about what you’re doing and just do it. Some do it safe, some do not, whatever way, it doesn’t matter, you did it! Now what? Get dressed, go home and wait for their call? That’s usually the case, but don’t expect to hear the phone ring. What felt so right and meant so much was nothing but a notch in his or her bedpost.
Summer love lost. All the pain, troubles, hassles and regrets.
So why do we go through it each year? For love? For image? Who wouldn’t want to be seen next to someone totally good looking; have them hold your hand tight, and gently kiss you goodnight. Sounds good to me.
September 1998 by "Amanda Long"
Nuclear missile launched! Everyone dies!
FK |