The secret to finding a li'l L-O-V-E this summer
Millions of songs in the world and she picks the one that instantly makes me feel like I’m back in Michigan, about head to the pool to park my towel next to Jen then hit up the snack shack for a burger before playing tennis in the afternoon then catching up with the crew for a sail, a BBQ and a bonfire.
It’s also the song that always makes me think about Will. If you looked up “boy of summer” in the dictionary, I can pretty much guarantee his picture is there: Tall, tan and drop dead gorgeous. A sailor with an easy smile and an even easier laugh.
Will and I were just buds for almost two years before he kissed me on the dance floor in front of all our friends. From that point on, we were crazy in love, the kind of intoxicating bliss that only happens when you have three months of sun, fun and days that seem stretch on forever.
When September would roll around, he’d head off to his school and me to mine. Somehow we both knew dropping temps (and distance) were not what we were about.
Will was my summer fling for more years than I can remember. Eventually, he became more than that. Beyond the tan, smile and sun-streaked hair that had a way of falling into his hazel eyes, Will was the most incredibly kind, gentle and amazing guy I’d ever met.
One night, on a bridge in Paris, my boy of summer asked me to marry him. A million things ran through my mind. Saying yes could possibly mean stretching out those incredible endless summer days into a lifetime. But, then reality hit: We had completely separate lives—him devoted to sailing, me devoted to GL—in completely separate cities. Staying with him forever would have meant reigning in his carefree spirit, something I'd never want to do.
So, I said no. And shortly after I handed him the ring back, he ended up marrying another one of our friends. I told myself that it was the right thing: She was more able to live his life, be the girl he needed. She could chase him. I still needed to chase my dreams.