I'm having a Mild Girl Summer
On not feeling the heat with anyone or anything.
A few days ago I was at the pool, pretending to read a book while eavesdropping on two people who were one towel over.
"It’s Eldest Boy Summer," the guy said to the girl.
"What does that even mean?" the girl asked.
"You know, like Kendall from Succession," He said. "It’s Eldest Boy Summer and then it’s gonna be Sad Boy Winter."
At this point, I wanted to interject and ask exactly what he meant by that. Was this dude spending his summer plotting how to take down his sadistic, obscenely rich father? Was he partying at the club every night, doing coke with a cousin named Greg? Maybe it meant that he was taking long walks by the water, pondering his future without a billion-dollar media conglomerate to run.
This convo made me ponder what kind of summer I’m having. It’s definitely not a Hot Girl Summer. Every year I fantasize about having a sensual, passionate affair with a summer lover, but so far I haven’t so much as accidentally brushed my knee against a stranger at a sweaty outdoor concert on the way to my seat.
I’m also not having a Sad Girl Summer: those are reserved for people who listen to a lot of Lana del Rey. The only thing that makes me cry is working in corporate America. I quit my job at the beginning of April and haven’t shed a tear since.
After careful consideration, I’ve decided I’m having a Mild Girl Summer. If my summer were a salsa, it would taste like the Tostitos' mild chunky flavor in a jar they sell at gas stations and 7-11. Not a hint of heat or spiciness here—you could give this salsa to your Midwestern grandma and not worry about her saying that it’s too hot.
The Mild Girl Summer is purposefully uneventful. You go places just to be around people having way more fun this summer than you are. On the fourth of July, I went on a long hike in the 95-degree heat, only to discover that the watering hole I had journeyed to was completely dried up (what an apt metaphor). Dirty and dusty post-hike, I decided to cool off in the pool at my apartment complex.
At the pool, multiple parties were in full swing. Three people with portable speakers were competing to see who would win the Bluetooth wars. A college kid drinking Lone Star was playing “When The Doves Cry” for his friends for the first time and telling them, “GUYS, this song, this is one of Prince’s ALL-TIME best songs.” This was the same guy who told everyone that “every Catholic girl from my high school now has an OnlyFans.”
Two women in their early 30s were in the pool sipping cold cans of hard seltzers wrapped in koozies that looked like puffer jackets. One woman was telling the other how many guys she’d met who were helicopter pilots.
“Girl, if you’re on the apps, you’ll definitely meet one and they’ll want to take you for a helicopter ride. You know who’s a really good Blackhawk pilot? Prince Harry!”
“Really?” her friend asked.
“Yeah, I mean, that’s what he says in his book,” she replied.
Forgetting that other people have fun on the Fourth of July, I brought a book to the pool. But it wasn’t Prince Harry’s memoir so I didn’t have an opportunity to fact-check this.
Mild Girl Summer entails going on dates that can best be described as “fine.” Mild Girl Summer involves buying a walking pad so you can go on Mild Girl Walks™️ in the comfort of your own home while listening to a podcast. When your friend recalls hooking up with a super hot man she met on Tinder, you’ll respond by detailing a conversation you had with a guy about the color of their Ikea rolling cart.
I don’t know what comes after a Mild Girl Summer—Spicy Lady Fall? With the way this season of my life is going, the only thing spice-y about autumn will be the pumpkin spice latte I order at my local coffee shop even though it’s still 100 degrees out. If you’re also having a Mild Girl Summer, know that you’re not alone in spending these sweltering days inside with the A/C on blast, curled up under a blanket reading a memoir about a woman going through a midlife crisis, because that’s your idea of a hot summer night.