Get This...

          This summer is proving itself to be a big one. First summer away from home, officially 21 (so drinking doesn’t have the same sparkle as it used to), and I’m slowly, but surely, figuring out my aesthetic (coastal rebelling teen who grew up on a farm). I have officially dubbed this as my Judy Moody Summer, fun, funky, and free. It’s a roll the windows down and turn the volume all the way up just fucking cuz I can type of vibe, but I’m also gonna turn it right down to a respectable volume at red lights. It’s also conversely a wagging my finger at the pesky, young neighbors type of summer. It’s a spectrum ok? I am the girl you’ve heard about only in legend. The girl who can do both; complain about mundane things like how much damn trash doesn’t get put in the bins, and how tourists need to slow down and only walk in the cross-walks. Whilst being so very young and dumb; making solo trips to the beach, falling asleep ALONE in the park, and inviting strangers to my house at all hours of the night. 

 

          Get you a girl who can be as versatile as me. I’m so go-with-the-flow it’s not even funny. Flow and I have this understanding that I’m just gonna go with her. She’s gonna let me tag along with her always. It’s the best way to live, and may I suggest some of you fuckers come along and join Flow and I. I promise your rigid, strict, schedules won’t mind. Come on, just for the summer. 

 

          Alright, I know what you sluts vicariously living through me really came here for so I’ll get to my recent dating escapades, do not fret. I am happy to report that some mega hotties are also observing their summers in ye old Savannah. Hinge is still quite a scary place, especially if, like me, you prefer your men to be 1. Attractive, 2. Liberal, and 3. Atheist (in that order). That’s my checklist. Feel free to adapt it to your specific needs because it has almost never failed me. I did meet the current guy I’m making-out with there, so statistically there’s one point for the girls. So things are going pretty smoothly, but I believe that’s only due to how fucking rocky they were at the start. Let me take you to our first “date” (date is generous). It’s 2 a.m. and said boy arrives at the abode wearing his “going out clothes”. Let me preface that he has also perfected his aesthetic. We had made the plan to meet in person for the first time whilst ripping milky white clouds from his gorgeous bong. Ideal first meeting. It’s 2 a.m., so I slipped out of my “out on the town” clothes and had time to put on my sexiest pjs and fuzzy pink bedroom slippers (they are still hot, don’t think grandma, think Barbie). He arrives and I direct him quietly to the back porch, so as not to disturb roommate Katie (who I’m sure wouldn’t have minded but STILL). He whips out his…bong and oh boy, I am mesmerized. It’s colorful, it’s small, and here’s the best part: it’s full of HIS flower. He offers me the first hit and I politely decline, making a super hilarious joke about him drugging and killing me. Then it’s my turn. No biggie, I’ve done this before. I’m a little nervous, but really what’s the worst that could happen? I could light a large chunk of my already pretty short hair on fire in front of my intended lover, that’s the worst that could happen. He sweetly pretends not to see me madly slapping my head, attempting to put out the flames scorching my gorgeous hair and possibly some of my brains. His flow led him to follow her down the path of “What? I didn’t see that, are you ok?”. And because of that, we are still actively texting. Thanks Flow! See you next time when I am mourning the loss of my 2 month fling (he’s leaving and I will be in search of a new lover!!). Bye now!