There is one particular scene in movies that I equally hate and love at the same time. It’s the scene that takes place on a Friday or Saturday night in the summer time. The main character is off in the distance drinking from a red solo cup. It’s not the most they’ve ever drank in one night, but enough to feel a buzz. They stare at the girl or guy that they’re crushing on, who is standing with their friends by a burning fire (if you want to be really cliché, then you can add a beach setting with the sound of rolling waves in the background). Even though the sun went down long ago, the stars are bright and the air is warm. After a few seconds of staring, the crush comes over to the main character and they start talking. Both are drunk, but still have enough self control to hide it from the other. They talk to each other while no one else seems to notice. The crowd is preoccupied with the own little sub pods of conversation. Then, it’s time. The moment that both wanted to happen, but neither would admit. They take a step towards each other and stop within inches. The close proximity is filled with longing and Tennessee whiskey. They look deep within one another’s eyes and get lost. Then, without warning, they both lean in. Every encounter has led to this moment and both are scared to see what the future holds. But, with the drunken summer air, neither cared. They lean in and close their eyes, waiting for their lips to meet. There is was. A kiss so real and so recklessly intimate that most would associate that moment with unknowing chaos of first love. All they both wanted was to feel something real. After all, the summer nights, underneath the stars, drunk among friends, and taking chances without looking back, those are the once in a lifetime moments that people live for.

The realist in me hates those scenes, but the hopeless romantic me loves it. Growing up, I thought those moments happen to everyone. Teenage years filled with confusion, hormones, and all the first’s. It wasn’t something that just happened in movies, but to everyone. No matter who you were, everyone knows what that feeling of first love when they were teenagers. Looking back, I think it’s kind of stupid to romanticize movie scenes, especially since that’s all they are: movies. But, when I hear other people talk about their first love, I think it’s something that’s equally beautiful and tragic. Those life changing moments that shape us into who we’re are today and allow us to be the most authentic version of ourselves. But then what? We come back to reality, marry in our mid-twenties, have two kids by thirty, get a part time job at a convenience store, and wait until the kids go off to college to rekindle that flame with your spouse, only to wait until you’re eighty to look back on your life and think “yep, life was just alright.” No, I don’t want that. I want that feeling of first love every single day when I look at my spouse. The feeling of butterflies in my stomach and doing life together like we were star-crossed lovers in an epic adventure between good versus evil. I think there’s something so genuine when you know how high the stakes are and you take every single moment to live life to the fullest, rather than living the same mundane routine of the 9-5 desk job until you retire at 65 only to babysit the grandchildren three days a week with no more than a mere “see you next week,” instead of a thank you. It seems like a tragedy.

I think those scenes in movies about the epic summer nights are what everyone dreams about, whether that’s in the context of the movie or a comparison to the past. Everyone can connect to those moments. As for me, I don’t have a single memory like that. I wish I did though because if I had the chance, I would put myself out there and taken chances. Lived up my teen years and made more mistakes. I’m still in my twenties and can do those very things, but the one thing that’s stopping me is the realization that this isn’t a movie. It’s real. There’s no epic battle between good versus evil, there are no reckless nights without consequences, and there are certainly no moments of time standing still. Everything carries on, whether we want it to or not.

I dream about those summer nights of what could’ve been. I wasn’t able to live them and genuinely feel what it’s like to be kissed by the fire, underneath the stars, around other people who are also drunk on life. So as for me, I just life vicariously through those movie scenes. My love for them stems from the reality of being as close as I will ever come to those moments and my hatred for them is knowing that those characters aren’t real and that not everyone gets to have those experiences. My hatred comes out in the form of jealousy. While they get to feel something real, we have to live in the real and reality isn’t a movie.