Every kind of love, or at least my kind of love, must be an imaginary love to start with

[k3leen]

I'm not going to lie. This summer I do want to fall in love a little bit. I want to meet a quietly beautiful boy, maybe through Celine at a random party she drags me to, or waiting in line for sandwiches at Schlotzky's, or browsing in the bookstore. I'll like his tan, the way his eyes stand out against bronzed skin. And every day I'll sit under the fluorescent office lights dreaming of him and every night we'll drive in his car with the sun roof open or sit on my porch swing holding hands. If only I had a porch swing. Or a porch.

I like my imaginary romances brief. A three month stint of intimacy and then it's New York, it's Ireland and I fall in illusory love all over again.