Intermission:The Summer Fling Thing

"Come on! Have a summer Fling."

It's not the first time someone tells me this. It has been pherhaps the most direct way. The motivation behind such a suggestion, I will not try to uncover. Somehow some people that have crossed my path think that I should have " a summer fling". I should take every opportunity (walking in the beach, being in the city, camping out, etc) to meet young men, flirt and have some kind of "romantic escapade", or at least a few encounters under the portuguese sun.

Right.

I am just so tired of this pointless cliché. Soooooo tired. Summer, bikinis and torrid passion. Seriously?

I see things the other way around. Summer is for reflection. Is the time to get away from the body, to come back to that shapeless place called home. To leave the dark cold city and indulge in the leftovers of childhood.

In the summer I like to catch that plane. It is my purgatory, with the bitter taste of airline coffee. It is all about expectation, a deep breath. And, when I'm back, I'm saved. I'm alright. I can now start reflection. Yes, summer is for reflection. On my sins and mistakes. On blind impulses followed during the Winter. It is time to look out the window into the wheat fields and know rigth from wrong, to forgive myself for what I have done without even trying very hard to do so. Summer is for comtemplation. Of the self and of the world. To pull it together, cry and rise.

It is not a coincidence that it is during the summer that I have been most vulnerable to religious propaganda. As in, christian sects brain-washing me or just the old village fundamentalism having an effect on my brain. I am at the cross-road. I am exactly at the point where I can even listen to sermons, go to masses and the like, because they make some sense. I understand them. I choose another path, for sure. But still, I see why people go down those roads.

Summertime is the fall from the cold streets into the rice fields. It is time to read and write, to examine and decide. It is time to clarify the misery and glory of past actions. At my own pace, at my own time. The senses are put on hold. Nature takes care of them with the sun and the flowers. They make our bodies one with the earth. And we help them out by removing coats, by running with 0ur feet on the grass and fine layers of cloth wrapped around our skin. Our minds are free. Free to wonder. to rationaly, but warmly, wonder about ourselves.

Some songs only get some meaning like this.

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don't be afraid to care.

Leave, don't leave me.

Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly

smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be.

Run, rabbit run.

Dig that hole, forget the sun,

And when at last the work is done

Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

For long you live and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards an early grave.

(Pink Floyd- Breathe)

When you are done. When you are at peace, when you know what you have done. Cried about it, laughed about it, or simply forgot about it. Then, you can go back.


Now, where do you fit a "summer fling" here? Where do you fit the flirt-nervous thingy? Were do you fit care for your image, standards and conventions of social interaction with attractive strangers? And what about those strangers? Is it fair to dragg them into your private mess-sorting period? Why would you? How can you? How can you give up the magic of gazing at the sea for the annoyance of being gazed at by some guys? [Yes. "some guys". I do have faith in humanity, but don't ask me to think prince charming is waiting around the corner. ]

It disturbs me. This idea that during the summer we are supposed to be all into finding a match. That our energy in this priviledged season should be focused on "flings", pseudo-comitments of convenience and convention. That we should be interested in people because we see their arms, legs, and whatever else, more often. I get the thing with Spring. I do! The birds are singing, the sun is warm for the first time and tralalala... Nature is re-awakening. OK, get it. But summer? Really? This "summer-fling"-summer-teen thing is the most ridiculous socio-commercial construction ever. It almost beats St. Valentines and Christmas (those at least started with some religous component!).

A "summer fling"? Give me a break!