Summer Lovin'

Making it to August normally signals the end of summer is right around the corner. And even with global warming in full effect this season of sunshine and happiness is coming to a close waiting ever so patiently for the season of snow and depression to creep up on us. But for some people out there, they don't have to wait until Mr. Sun no longer listens to the praise of children to "please, come shine on me" to fall into that drafty basement of being down. No, for although these months were specific created by the Babylonians to assure that everyone got at least one round of Tickle the Grapes in the Garden, some people have been unable to find that summer fling; and its almost harvest season.

The summer fling. Either its a time of adolescent fun between two people shared for a few short weeks out of the year never to happen again. Or its a lie you tell your friends about a time of adolescent fun you had with this "totally hot girl named Theresa, but she lives in Oregon and I don't have her number." There is something about a summer fling that is different than a relationship that can last through winter. For starters; these people do not have to have anything in common with one another. She loves horses and writes in her journal every night telling it all the things she would die if her friends found out about. He likes Rage Against the Machine and once ate a wool sock on a bet. But their parents rented houses on the same block the summer of 2003, and she let him get to second base one night on a jetti; because that's how a summer fling works.

There's no love. In fact, there's no love at all. Not in summer flings, not in fifty-year marriages; love does not exist. They've done studies. Plugging people's brains into machines trying to determine which lobe controls the love function in the brain. Hell, they don't even have a definition of what love is. Ask anyone that's used that term to describe it, what do they say? "Love is indescribable" I can't see love, I can't taste love... you can smell love, but that's something a good roommate will ignore when you're driving his ass to the train station the night after you had a date.

Love is something that science cannot prove its existence in the universe. But you know what they can prove exists? Big f**king rocks. Hell, they don't even need all those equations, I can see the rock. Its right there! That rock is REAL. You can metaphorically be "struck by Cupid's Arrow" but I can literally "throw a big f**king rock at you."