Oui, I have added a French vibe to the Monday Morning Coffee Club in honor of France’s big holiday. I have left berets by the door for you to wear, we will be screening Jerry Lewis films and highlights of the Tour de France all day, and the interns will serve you while dressed as mimes.
It’s still Lundi (that’s French for Monday!), but we’re going to try to make it a little better by giving it a Holiday spin.
For some reason, I was always aware that July 14th was Bastille Day (I have mentioned that I was a dorky little kid, right? The only thing that’s changed is that I’ve gotten taller and older!). The French Holiday took on a whole new meaning for me, however, the Summer that I was 16. As a result, it will always hold a special place in my heart.
Evil Step Mother declared that I would get a Summer job when I turned 16. Once she said something, it became law. There was no appeals court, and my Dad did not have any sort of veto power.
I was shipped off to a Summer Camp upstate to work as a counselor. You know what? It was a pretty cool job. I was on my own, I had some money in my pocket, and there were lots of pretty female counselors.
That Summer, I met my first love (would you expect anything else from The Hopeless Romantic???). Maureen was 20, and thus began my horrible habit of falling for the wrong girl. Of course, over time, I would become skilled at getting the wrong girl to fall in love with me, but at age 16, I was just a novice.
So I spent the Summer madly in love with Maureen, and she was clearly fond of me. Don’t worry, nothing inappropriate happened. The most serious it ever got was that she held my hand on the train ride home, since it was the last day we’d be seeing each other that Summer.
We did exchange sweatshirts, and I proudly wore Maureen’s college sweatshirt everywhere. She would wear my high school sweatshirt around camp and looked a hell of a lot better in it than I ever did.
But I digress. Let’s reel in this grand romantic epic and focus on Bastille Day. When we had a day off, we liked to get as far away from the adorable campers as possible.
As luck would have it, Maureen and I both had a day off on July 14th. We decided to celebrate Bastille Day by taking the train down to South Street Seaport.
Do you have any idea how amazing this was for me? I had this gorgeous 20 year old all to myself, and we would be practically in my backyard. How many times had I dreamed of walking around the city with a beautiful girl? Now it was happening! I said a silent prayer that I would run into some of my friends and get to introduce them to Maureen.
We had a great day. My first love intensified. Bastille Day won a special place in my heart.
I always hoped that we would remain in touch until it would be appropriate for her to admit her feelings for me, and I could win her over, but alas, we drifted apart and I haven’t spoken to her in ages.
We’ll always have Bastille Day, though…