It is the last day of July, and I am reflecting on the fact that at the beginning of July I said I had a good feeling about the month. When I said that I was mostly thinking financially, and I can report now that financially this month has been more or less the same as any other. I didn’t work more shifts as I said I was expecting to, and I plodded along about as comfortably as ever. Not my best but not my worst.
I was expecting to be more disappointed by that, mostly because my spending has been frivolous and carefree, but actually I am not. And it has been frivolous and carefree due to the fact that this July, which was supposed to be a month like any other, I have actually...had fun. Not just for an evening dancing til 3am at a rave, or mum visiting for a few days, or having dinner out with a friend, or going on a date with somebody about whom I end up feeling tepid. I have had fun the whole damn month.
I’m attributing it largely in part to the fact that, for the first time since 2021, I am here at home for the entirety of winter. I know I’ve banged on about this a bit since it rolled over into June, but it feels pertinent because I think there is some part of me — body, brain, psyche, subconscious — that is still in holiday mode. I’m programmed for a northern hemisphere summer now, and I’m used to flogging myself at work with that specific goal in mind: to have a full 5 or 6 or 7 weeks off, to gallivant and cavort, to eat drink smoke cigarettes and be merry. With no goal, no dedicated time off, no outlet, what does it all even mean? How does a girl get her kicks?
She gets them, I have found out, by working as little as possible, still by the grace of god hitting her monthly target, still going to Pilates 4x a week and taking 10km+ walks on the off days, and then living as luxuriously as possible. July has been champagne and cocaine and sex for fun and late bedtimes and eating off-schedule. It’s been friends and fashion and blasting banging techno while sitting on my bedroom floor doing my makeup in preparation to go out. It’s been last minute cancellations and last minute invitations and telling myself that next month…next month…it’s time to get serious. And I will. But I needed this.
And so now July is at an end. And it began to end last night walking around the grocery store with a silly sweet boy buying ingredients for dinner at 8pm, and then perching on my kitchen bench watching him make it for me. I hopped down and he smooshed me in his arms and kissed me.
„I think you like me,” I said, looking at our reflection in my window.
„I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t like you,” he replied simply.
And it got closer to ending this morning the way we finished last night — slick with sweat under my layers of blankets, slick everywhere he touched me and kissed me, and straddling a very fine line between enjoying it all immensely and that feeling of it being too too much, which is a kind of agonising pleasure when the guy you like has a big dick. Afterwards he wrote his name and drew a love heart in the dew on my bedroom door that leads to the balcony, and then he left me with a kiss and a second toothbrush in the bathroom.
After some contemplation I realised that, in the spirit of July being holiday lite, I would cancel my class and instead take a walk on this beautifully sunny day. And I will, later. The daylight hours are the relaxed vignette before the official end tonight and I need to recline on my bed for a bit longer. I am going out with the girls and in this current mindset I cannot be trusted to be anything but silly with them.
And then it is August, and everything will be back to normal, like it is every other year.
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