Whether we like it or not, summer is moving on without us. Sure we could point to the fact that it’s still technically summer until the Autumnal Equinox, or that summer is as much a state of mind as a season (no it isn’t). Did you use it to its full potential? Or did you sit on your couch binge watching OITNB over and over again with the shades drawn? Well now, the days are getting shorter, outdoor concerts and outdoor movies are an endangered species, kids are going back to school, and suddenly, you have to work the whole Friday. But no summer is long enough to do it all.
So let’s reflect: what didn’t you get to on your summer bucket list? What memories will you slink off into fall knowing you never had? Team Brokelyn shares some of ours below: use this list as a guide for next year, because, as a wise man once said: the next summer is promised to no one.
“Yeah, so remember how I said I’d be reading the second book in George R.R. Martin’s Fire and Ice series, A Clash of Kings over the summer? As it turns out, I’m the very worst! I’m only up to page … ugh, wait, 198? I thought I’d at least crossed 250. All I have to give is a series of excuses, but they won’t be worth a damn. There are too many good articles online that I like to read. I can’t find the time during the day. The train is so full during my commute that I’d rather not have the book more or less in my mouth so that it’s not against someone’s back, meaning I don’t read unless I don’t have anything to do during lunch, or at home. Which is rare! All right, fine. I slacked. I slacked bad.
The Thunderbolt finally opened up at Coney Island, and I think I’ve said ‘I’ll go next weekend’ for the past 10 weekends. I was even at a Cyclones game last weekend and I didn’t go. I love roller coasters, so there’s no excuse. I either had several moments of cheapness, or I just didn’t want to bother heading out there or onto a line. And The Mets. I also regret the Mets, just in general. That’ll change someday, right? Maybe next year?”
“I made this supremely hot dude an americano almost every day for over a year and we always flirted casually. I developed a mammoth crush on him. That completely destroyed any shred of charming banter — at least on my end — and I turned into a puddle of borderline-schizophrenic muttering whenever he came in. I kept promising myself that I would just ask him out, like by writing my number on a napkin or something. You know, low-maintenance summer flings and all.
So with a week ’til I had to leave the country, I finally wrote my number on his americano cup. And he actually texted me! But with our conflicting schedules, a formal date wasn’t going to happen and I really just wanted to sleep with him because I had so much pent-up rage/sexual frustration about my own inability to just ask him the fuck out earlier.
I made it explicitly clear that I was leaving and had minimal time to ‘make this happen’. Two nights before I leave, the guy texts me that he’s on his way to my place. So I bike home in a panic, clean my apartment … and well, the rest kind of goes without saying. In the morning I text a doubtful friend of mine, “I win. Forever. I win.” But in retrospect, I wish I had just asked him out like I wanted. The angry sex thing just doesn’t feel as good in the long term.”
–Anonymous Team Brokelyn member
“All things considered, this was a great summer for me. Plenty of beach time, a couple of baseball games, finding a sweet Jason Kidd Mavericks jersey that fits me really well. Still, two things stand out for me. One, I wasn’t able to construct a rooftop office. My engineering skills just didn’t extend to finding a way to keep my umbrella from flying away, even when I bought a base for it. Two, I only made it to one outdoor movie and once Celebrate Brooklyn concert all summer. There’s no excuse for that one really, especially considering all the damn time I spent telling people that they should go to outdoor concerts and movies.”
“Not to summble brag too much, but I generally feel like I crushed this summer pretty hard, crushed it mightily under the weight of plenty of beach bus trips and til-sunrise chaos. But of late I’ve been feeling these weird pangs of emotion for the hometown back in Ocean County, NJ — feelings mostly awakened as we all watched Hurricane Sandy swallow up a good chunk of the boardwalk, splat the Jet Star rollercoaster into the water and drown a lot of friends’ businesses and homes. Then on top of that, the rest of the boardwalk that the storm didn’t flush out to sea caught fire and burned (pictured below), including all the stands I worked during high school and college.
So I pledged to make it down there again this year to check in on the home beach, throw in some moral support and help pump some money back in the economy. Optimistic June Tim even entertained the idea of rounding up the troops to rent a house for the weekend. But the closest we got was to Asbury Park, a fine town in its own but one that had not suffered the Job-like pangs of Seaside Heights. It’s still in my heart though — it’s got an authentic resolve even Coney Island can’t touch.”
“I missed the Kara Walker exhibit at Domino. I have no good excuse for why; I meant to go, and then I never got around to it, and then it was over. I didn’t make bloody marys this summer. I barely drank any bloody marys, either. Last summer I would make them from scratch and drink them on my roof. Come to think of it, I barely spent any time on my roof this summer, for some reason.
I wanted to sneak into a hotel pool, because I’ve never done that, and I thought I would this summer, but I never did. I tried to get back together with my ex, but he wasn’t into it. That one isn’t so much a regret as just a failure, because I really think I did my best. I killed my fire escape herbs, but I wasn’t even sad about it. I got one good round of pesto out of the basil first.”
“My big summer regret is not making it to any of the Brooklyn Bridge movies this year, or even showing any movies in my backyard. My backyard has been out of commission all summer as the weeds have taken over, so I never really had a shot at doing movies out there, but I don’t even think I have a good reason for missing the Brooklyn Bridge events, which are always a good time. Summer doesn’t really feel complete if you haven’t spent one night on a blanket watching a fun movie, surrounded by people and a silhouetted skyline. And, you know, trying not to get caught drinking in public.”
“This summer, I regret having no regrets #deep. I’ve always associated summer with a moderate degree of recklessness, irresponsibility, and borderline shameful activity. And that’s what I love about it. My mindset reverts back to the days of being a college student and I get genuinely pissed off that I have any type of obligation or accountability between Memorial Day and Labor Day Weekend. Instead of having an outrageous story that I can laugh at when I’m fat and curled up on my couch eating Yummy Taco in the depths of winter, I have a string of mundane times. This summer, I found myself using my free time to catch up on sleep, doing something wedding related (not my own), or attending another godforsaken birthday in some majorly inconvenient location. Here’s to ending up in jail this Labor Day weekend and ending the summer on a high note.”
“There was a time when Tim and Dave were trying to get me to play hooky and go to Long Beach for a day in the sun. I had intended to go, but had had a recent sick day, causing me to feel a sense of obligation not to call out of work when I wasn’t actually sick. It was a gorgeous day and I wound up having absolutely nothing to do at work that couldn’t have waited until Monday. What could have been a day bathing in sweet, warm salt water wound up being eight hours of producing salty tears while I argued with idiots in the Gothamist comments. I believe I lost.”
What’s your summer regret? Tell us in the comments, though we won’t judge you if you try to summer binge this weekend.