Summertime Sadness.

Three solid months of day drinking, trips to the beach and the peak of Wedding season. In all honesty, I would rather suffer through ANOTHER heatwave than have to see another post on Facebook about someone’s martial bliss.

Don’t get me wrong, I support all of the decisions that my friends make in regards of their love life. Especially the poor decisions, I encourage those. As I inch closer and closer to 30, I sense this unnecessary pressure to get hitched, buy a house and start a family. Having your peers tell you that you kind of need to grow up is ridiculous. I mean, I had no idea there was an age limit for me to have all night rage sessions with the small group of single friends I have left. Who really wants to be a responsible adult anyways?

Growing up, Summer felt like the time of year that being single was something people wanted. Fall and Winter was designated for intense cuddle sessions due to the chilly temperatures. If you happen to hate sweat and body contact as much as I do, Summer would be the worst for you as it is for me. Holding a sweaty hand? I’d rather sit through a Justin Bieber concert.

Marriage? It’ll happen when I’m ready to sign away all of my freedoms. In all honesty, I’m secretly holding out for that person. You know what I’m talking about. The supposed ONE.  There’s still a glimmer of hope that he’s gallivanting out there like the bumbling baboon I’ll fall madly in love with.  Let me not cause a small lapse in depression. With this obnoxious heatwave, it’s too hot to be sad.