Today you're going to meet a boy who upsets you in a way that makes you want to kiss him in lakes. He'll be 40 (you're 42).
"What are we going to do when the summer ends?" you'll ask him one gorgeous night when you're lying on the hood of his car staring at airplanes.
"Go back to our spouses I guess," he'll say.
You don't know what you were hoping to hear him say. You know that he's right. You have to go back. No matter how much fun you're having with your summer romance, you miss your husband and your daughters. But you kind of wish he didn't miss his wife and teenage son. You kind of wish he would express just a little sadness that these things can only last for the duration of a season.
"Hey you guys," you'll hear from behind the car. It's your husband.
"What are you doing here?" you'll ask.
"Dominique had to go back to Paris," he'll say. "She's taking a summer semester."
"Summer semester?" you'll say. "How old was she?"
"Eighteen. Why, how old's yours?"
Your summer romance will sit up and show your husband his mop of gray hair and face full of wrinkles.
"Jesus," your husband will say. "More like winter romance. Or whichever season means being near death of natural causes due to old age romance."
You and your summer romance will say, "Yeah that's winter."
Your husband will tell you that with Dominique gone, he's free for the rest of the summer so he can pick up the girls from your mother's and raise them. You're a little jealous that he gets to be with your daughters, but he hurt you when he said your summer romance is too old. You don't want him to think you'd rather be home raising your children, so you give your summer romance a wet sloppy kiss while your husband watches.
"Ew!" your husband shouts. Then he takes off in his Volvo and heads for home.
Happy Summer Romance Day!
