the boy from summer camp

Sometimes I think about people from my past. A song will come on that reminds me of Basketball Boy’s blue eyes, or a place I pass reminds me of Philly Boys smile. Today this happened. I put on an Elvis song, Jailhouse Rock to be exact. As I am driving down the freeway, windows down, music blasting, a memory of Summer Camp Boy popped into my head. We were in his jeep, windows down, just like today, wind spinning my hair into my face, as we both laughed. Jailhouse Rock comes on, and the energy shifts. He turns it up and starts singing along, dancing, doing his BEST Elvis impression (honestly, I’d give him a 10/10). I felt really fucking happy, happy with him, happy in that moment, and it felt like this memory lasted more than just the 2 minutes and 35 second song playing. It didn’t though, obviously. It was just a nice 2 minutes and 35 seconds and then it ended. After today and the memory that is splashed across my mind currently, makes me want to tell you ALL about Summer Camp Boy, especially why we didn’t work out and why Summer Camp Boy is nothing more than a memory at this point.

It all started, as you may guess at Summer Camp. Not my summer camp, my brothers. I worked there for a few summers, as an “office lady,” with my mom. It was an all-boys camp (queue the people rolling their eyes because of course I worked at an all-boys camp). I was the same age as most of the counselors and other people who weren’t campers. My first summer there I really stayed to myself, tanned when I could, wrote a book that I never finished, and wrote letters to a boy who lived in a different state who at the time I thought I loved. I wasn’t looking for love, because in my mind I mean I already had it… right? Nah, wrong, per usual. The boy who received the letters got bored of no skin to skin contact I assume, and so did I. As I closed that mere chapter, my eyes opened and what was in front of me was god damn heaven at the time. So.Many.BOYS. I wasn’t the only girl there, there were a few others, but my god I felt like I had hot boys delivered to me on a silver platter and I didn’t have to do anything but not be a boy. It was easy. Now let me introduce you to Summer Camp Boy. He was tall, blonde, blue eyes, sporty, nice, flirty, fucking charismatic, AND had a god damn girlfriend. We were friendly, talked a lot here and there, but nothing more. I ended up having a little fling with another dude that summer, to distract me from my real crush, and that story doesn’t need to be told… yet.

Now flash forward to the next summer, I knew more people this time, I was actually excited to be there this time, and the real kicker, Summer Camp Boy was single. During the year we had kept in contact, again, just as friends. He hadn’t told me about the breakup until we saw each other, and as sad as I felt for him, a sting of excitement fell over me. I had my “relationships” throughout the year, but nothing really fit, so I came into that year looking for a ~summer love~. If you have ever been to summer camp you will understand what I am about to say. When at summer camp, life outside of it feels like nothing more than a dream. A time that really didn’t exist, a time that honestly doesn’t matter. When you are there, all that matters is camp, the people, the food, the activities, the nonstop excitement, you are never alone, people are constantly around, and it feels SO GOOD. When you leave though, it disappears and there you are back in reality where life feels much more intense, where sadness creeps up on you and you are sitting there all alone, wishing summer never ended… But we haven’t gotten there yet. Instead, I was in full camp mode, where anyone outside of camp didn’t really matter, and all that did was what was right in front me, including Summer Camp Boy.

Our fling didn’t start away. We were still just friends, sneaking around at night, taking sips of cheap liquor behind the baseball field where no one would find us. Skinny dipping after hours and staring at the stars while sitting on the creaky dock with our feet peeking over the edge. I had a crush on him but at that point (except for my subconscious) I wasn’t really thinking I wanted anything from him besides friendship. That quickly changed when we got drunk, we were staring up at the stars, and he leaned over and kissed me. It was like one of those classic teen movie kisses, the stars are just right, our bodies are cold under the midnight air, scared someone will find us, and in between it all our lips meet as if they were pulled by magnets against our best judgment or will. We sat there kissing and man was it nice. He was a good kisser, he smelled nice, and it was romantic as hell. What more could ya really ask for?

After that any chance we would spend time together. Sneaking off or flirting right in front of everyone. He didn’t care, nor did I. At camp that’s another thing, it’s not that you can’t have flings, it’s just ya know, running around at night making out in the woods was not really looked at in a positive light. I know, ridiculous... I mean I get it (I guess), but that didn’t really stop me. It was fun, it was light, and it was exactly what I had hoped for. When you think of “summer love” or summer fling, this was exactly what I had imagined.

Now let’s get into the Elvis night. We both took our nights off together, and he had a house a few towns over in this beautiful beach/golf town. His parents were supposedly out of town that night, and he wanted to “take me on a real date,” he said. We get into his car and drive away from camp, back into the real world. Our brains were still on camp time, but our surroundings were not. It honestly felt kind of weird taking this little thing we had into the real world. It made me feel weird, and second guess this whole thing. In the real world, I think of the future, I think of what will happen when we leave camp, when we go our separate ways. We both were living in Boston at the time, that was a plus I thought, but realistically, besides camp, we were sooo different. Before my thoughts were going to spiral enough to make me force him to drive me all the way back, the Elvis song came on.

As he danced and sang to Elvis, JUST like Elvis, I stopped worrying about the real stuff, and focused on how much fun I was having. But just like that it allll came back the second the song turned off. We got to his house then walked over to a restaurant close by. We did the whole damn thing, got dinner, drinks, he paid, walked around as the sun set, then as we went back to his house there were two cars parked in the driveway, not one. “Fuck”, he exclaimed. His parents and his sister were there. God damn it. This was not just our “first real date” but also… I was meeting the parents? No. Absolutely not. I stood there, stressed beyond belief before he took my hand and pulled me inside.

It honestly wasn’t bad, I mean I was in full panic mode the entire time, but they were sweet. They of course made us sleep in different rooms, and honestly, I was not too mad about it. I knew he was planning on making his lil advances but because we were back in the real world and my mind was racing a mile a minute, I think it was best that we waited anyways.

(He did sneak to my room that night and we made out for like an hour, but it didn’t go any further.. just yet.)

Next day, we swim in his pool, and make out, his parents and sister see us, but they didn’t’ mind (though I absolutely 110% did). It felt fine, almost normal, but in the back of my head I felt fucking weird man. It was all too much for something that started as just a summer camp fling. Before we left, we ended up meeting with his GRANDPARENTS (I mean come on) and some other family for brunch. As we sit there, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I mean first his grandparents lived on a golf course, and everyone, I mean everyone had blonde straight hair and blue eyes, and there I was with huge curly (messy I might add) brown hair, brown eyes, and dressed like I just well left camp. I wasn’t saying much until one of his grandparents mentioned the wall… She was excited that the wall was being built, that “wonderful Tr*mp” was building it. I audibly laughed, and everyone and their deep blue eyes shot me a look. I mean I thought they were joking because who in their right mind actually liked or likes tr*mp, but they were not joking. I quickly told them I do not like him and tried to keep my mouth shut before getting the hell out of there.

We left, finally, said our goodbyes, and went on our way. Summer Camp Boy thought the moment was funny, but this was just another huge part of our lives that did not mesh. He was a republican… his family liked Tr*mp? This was stuff I wish I didn’t know so I could go on in my fake summer camp world being in my summer love with my summer camp boy. But he had to go and ruin it. This wasn’t really the only reason I got stressed (though maybe it should have been), what was really bothering me was the idea of goodbyes. Summer didn’t last forever, nor did camp, when we left, we would have to say goodbye, how could I let myself fall for this temporary guy when I knew we had an expiration date? This little trip turned into me stressing about a future that didn’t exist and about feelings that were beginning sure but had not even touched the surface of our fake relationship.

We go back to camp and he was as smitten as ever. Being all cute and romantic, trying to hang all the time, and I being the asshole that I am kept making up excuses, “I am tired” or “I am busy.” I mean come on I was working at a summer camp where I was barely needed, why would I be tired or busy? He ended up leaving for a week during camp, his family had planned a vacation to France, and he couldn’t miss it (classic). While he was gone part of me felt relieved, I didn’t have to see him or focus on this “what if” feeling in the gut of my stomach. The other part of me felt sad, I liked him a lot honestly (despite his republican family) and I missed seeing him every day, which is exactly what I hoped wouldn’t happen. While he was away, I tried not to think about him but of course I couldn’t stop myself. Also, yes, I know this was a week of him being away, but seriously camp time is different than real life okay? Get over it. So, I write a lil poem, me and my sadass loved to write poems to get all my damn feelings out. If you really wanna read it click here babieeez.  Anyways if you don’t go and read the whole thing it was basically about how scared I was, about how what if I make that jump, that big terrifying jump, and he wasn’t there to catch me (I am DRAMATIC ok?). So, he gets back from his Paris trip on the night that all the campers left on a trip, and just the counselors were there, in which things got kinda crazy.  The first thing he does (at least that’s what he told me) was come up to my door with a box of French chocolate in one hand and in the other flowers and a note. We kissed, not caring if anyone saw us, and I fell into his arms, happy he was back with me. He held onto me and I didn’t want him to let go. We planned to meet up later, in his CABIN (which was very much not allowed) but since the campers were gone, all hell really broke loose, which is yet a story for another time. I went back into the kitchen where I was staying and opened up the note, it read “I will catch you.” I mean come on. Was he fucking joking? Not only did he read my poem, but he comes back with gifts, and responds directly to said poem saying exactly what I want to hear. You would think this would make everything okay, that instead of freaking out and wanting to never see him again I would go run into his arms and we would be in love and never let each other go… wrong again. This only made it worse. This made those real feelings that were being pushed down as far as they could go, fucking boil on up and I couldn’t control it. I wanted him, I wanted this, but I knew that it would never work. That in just a few weeks, I would be leaving camp, I would be driving back to Boston, and life would start up again, and he would forget me faster than that 2 minute and 35 second song. I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t break my own heart, so I decided it was over. I would go over to his cabin (jesus christ) and end it right then and there…

I did not… Instead, I slept with him in the dumb rickety twin bed. I let myself sleep with this man, knowing that the second his penis even came into view I would be in love with him (this is a joke but also at the time not really so shut up).

So, there we are lying in that small ass bed, underneath a blanket that his mom definitely packed for him, and I wanted to scream. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was great, he was great, he was really great, but this was not great. I knew that the second I left this room, the second I left this place, I would be just another name on his list of girls he slept with and forgot to call (~woe is me~my goodness).  

But before we got there, before I could cry about him because he “BrOkE mY hEaRt” I ended it. I didn’t give him a reason, at the time, in that place I didn’t really think that I needed to. I acted like he meant absolutely nothing to me, because it was just a camp fling, get over it right? He was upset, and angry, but ended up being cordial about it all. Me acting like it was nothing was not the case, I definitely had feelings for him, and he meant something to me, but I was too scared to let it turn into anything. Realistically maybe it could’ve. We both lived in Boston, we stayed in contact the year before, we both liked each other, and he was definitely the romantic type who would put in effort. But me, I was too scared at the possibility of getting hurt that I just fucked it up.

Granted, me and Summer Camp Boy would have never worked, we really didn’t have anything in common. He was a republican….so like…NO THANK YOU. ha no I mean yeah wtf you are dumb for liking Tr*mp (that’s all I’ll say about that), but also the only real thing we had in common was camp, and that we were attracted to each other, and liked being around one another. Most likely if we even tried dating or whatever we would’ve broken up quite quickly after we left that summer behind. That being said, you never know. Maybe we would still be together now, or maybe not, but if I had just stopped getting so caught up on the “what ifs”, the potential heartbreaks, the painful possible goodbyes, I wouldn’t have let this genuinely good guy (minus his political affiliation) go. He was and is a good guy, he made me feel special and treated me well, and because I was scared of the possibility of him leaving, instead I left, and he never even had the chance to catch me.