Dear Summer:
I love you.
No -- I really do. See, you might think I'm just saying that soyou'll put out longer, but I really mean it.
Well, I still like the put-out idea, but neglect that for a fewminutes.
We've spent 19 years together under your sizzling sun; burningmy precious type III skin in the afternoons and wasting away theevenings with friends, food and no particular place to be.
I've enjoyed almost every minute, with the exception of thoseintermittent fights between friends and that bout with freedom wecall "living with parents."
But Summer, girl, why you gotta play me like this?
You come into my life and demand so much yet, without fail, youjust as quickly leave me to the open arms of Fall.
And seriously, Baby Doll: Fall's a bitch.
Sure, she's got her moments, but we know where the action'sat.
With you, babe.
Even then, you've left me every year. Yet you never manage tohelp me fulfill my needs and desires. All the while, you run offall happy and finished - only to come back when YOU are ready formore.
What about my needs, Sweet Cheeks?
This year, things are changing.
No longer will I stand still in the darkness of your humid,65-percent-chance-of-precipitation nights. Never again will I wastea night at home waiting for you to call me up and go "Hey, let'shave some fun."
Listen, Cupcake: The game is over. I've got the upper hand, andlike hell am I going to lose it.
I vow from this point on that for the rest of your time aroundme, we're pushing it to the max.
Screw the sleep, the mandatory family gatherings and the fewboring hours of work I despise: They are gone.
We're going to make the most of our time together if it killsus.
We'll go to the late night movies at the drive-in an hour northof town.
And Muffin, let's not forget about those late nights withfriends while we toast to our youth.
Or those sobering mornings afterward when I sleep through myalarm for work.
The nights where sleep isn't a demand but rather an option --we're passing on the option, hot stuff, and we're lasting longthrough the night as if it were Finals Week.
Long through the night....
The mid-afternoon baseball games at the local diamond with theover-priced dogs, Cracker Jacks and cotton candy? Oh, we're sothere.
Hell, I'll even play baseball.
But only for you, baby.
Every year you leave without letting me finish - not thisyear.
The bottom line is this, Summer: You're putting out until I sayyou can stop.
Don't think it's fair? Well, I don't care, Pumpkin, 'causeyou've controlled this relationship for way too long.
You might think you are in the driver's seat this time around,but you got another thing comin'.
If you wanna play with the big boys, you gotta be able to handlethe big toys.
And no, Sugarcane, that last line might not have had any realrelevance to the real point of this letter. But that's exactly whatI'm talkin' 'bout: It don't matter, JuJuBee, 'cause I'm callin' theshots from here on out.
So Summer, babe: Let's get it on.
Love,
Your Sticky, Lemon Shake-Up, Cotton Candy-covered SugarDaddy
Write to Dave at heydave@bewilderedsociety.com
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