For as long as I’ve been an adult, I don’t think I’ve ever had a great Fourth of July – but they sure as heck have all been memorable.
(Sidenote… Can we just appreciate how much better my style has gotten over the past few years? Good golly it was rough.)
1. The summer after my first year of college, my girl Michelle and I hung around Emerald Cove with a bunch of really attractive, wealthy cattle ranchers and their boats.
(I.e. what should be my college major, should I even be in college? boyfriends – what are those? family, goals, priorities – do i even have priorities? kinda down for whatev)
We actually fought that day – and we’ve only ever had two fights throughout our years of friendship. Then Mich ended up loosing her keys. We missed the fireworks completely and almost had to go home with her parents for being so irresponsible.
…But they let us stay out and I ended up meeting a guy I would eventually fall in love with.
<<This was also the day I realized that I don’t really know how to swim… especially after a few drinks.>>
P.S. Mich has a completely different view of how this day went
2. A few years later I came home from an extensive trip to Europe (Paris.. Venice.. Rome) riiight before The Fourth. Left me completely wrecked and exhausted with jet lag.
I had just picked up my car from the shop (I’d rear ended two cars at once before we left, dented the front and set off the airbag and a bucket of tears) and lo and behold I was hit by a drunk driver. The catch was, however, that technically it was my fault. I had a stop she did not. She, however, was speeding and I didn’t see her coming. I dunno man but life can be rough.
Not willing to risk the insurance consequences of having two accidents in one month we each took responsibility for our own vehicles and went our separate ways. A block down the road, though, some important belt came loose and we had to leave my car just sitting there for a couple days until we figured out how to put it back on.
3. The following year I got the flu and spent the entire day in bed. Barely coherent enough to hear the fireworks.
4. The year after was filled with alcohol-fueled boyfriend arguments.
5.Last year my ex-hunny and I moved out of our apartment on the Fourth – and into our own individual ones. Emotionally and physically exhausting. I had one margarita before crashing.
…Until, tipsy on wine and the sea I invited someone whom I usually keep my distance from to come hang. And lo and behold he played the typical mind games, drove me (Me! The Ice Queen!) to tears yet again. And my poor girlfriend had to take me home. Via a $75.00 Uber during the largest surge of the year.
What gets me is that I wasn’t even THAT drunk. (ok i dunno if that’s honest) Like I needed food and sleep for sure. But how stupid to let this dumb boy get the best of me.
I probably should pretend that social media is reality and I had an amazing Fourth; but I just can’t. In part because I know I’m not the only dummy.