the end.

of summer, that is.  The end of summer.  You can give me your blah, blah, blah about how the autumnal equinox has not yet arrived, but let’s face facts, people, September is upon us! September means the first day of school, and plum season, both exciting, but it also means the end of other things: namely, my summer flings.

I’m not going to be one of those people who says, “I hate to brag,” because–quite obviously–I do not.  And so I’ll just go ahead and say it: I’ve had a lot of flings this summer.  I’ve always considered myself a loyal girl, but when summer comes, the days grow long and suddenly the world is full of possibility.  No one wants to be tied down on a hot July night.

Here’s how it happened:

I met the Racer on Valentine’s Day at the Alibi Room and we totally hit it off.  By May, I wasn’t interested in anything else.  But then in Turkey, I discovered Effes Dark, which was totally different, and, you know, romantic in that dark, European way, and we were together almost every day.  Then on the pebble beaches of Greece, sweet Mythos was my Danny Zuko.  But by Canada Day, I was back on North American soil, and it had seemed wrong of me to ever leave the Racer.  Because when you come right down to it, I’m always partial to cool, hoppy ale.  There was that brief reunion with last year’s Blue Buck, but things fizzled quickly.  And I won’t even get into that hot South Carolina night with Sierra Nevada.  But I will say that I’m hoping the Red Seal will stick around a few more weeks, to, you know, help me get back into the swing of things.

I’m a working girl these days, and I don’t have time for trifling.  But if you must know, my chest aches at the mere thought of moving on to something more serious, more stable, something to see me through the winter.  I mean, we had something special, didn’t we??