There’s something about summer that makes the rules feel different. Maybe it’s the heat, the humidity, the slower pace of the days. Maybe it’s the extra skin, the late sunsets, the soft blur of responsibility. Whatever it is, summer seems to invite a kind of romance that doesn’t ask for forever. It just asks for right now. And that’s where the summer fling comes in.
When I was 15, I was a “program assistant” at my local scout camp – kind of like a junior camp counselor. And I got a crush on one of the lifeguards. His name was Brian, he was 18, and he had that sun-bleached blond hair combined with deep-tanned skin thing going on. He also had a girlfriend, one of the other lifeguards. I don’t remember her name, or what she looked like. But I do remember spending a LOT of time at the camp pool that summer. So much time that my hair turned green from the chlorine.
For a whole summer I mooned over a lifeguard who was perfectly polite but oblivious to my teenage crush. I wouldn’t class this as a summer fling, but it was my first glimpse of one – someone who only existed within the sphere of a defined experience, whom I caught feelings for and then never saw again after camp finished. Looking back, I view that summer through the hazy lens of youth and inexperience and dreamy what-ifs. If I’d been a bit older, and if Lifeguard Brian had been into me too, what might have happened?
If you’ve ever found yourself slow-dancing in a borrowed hoodie at a beach bonfire, kissing someone you met just a few hours ago while someone plays a guitar in the background, you already know: Summer flings are built for memories. They come with a built-in playlist. Think Jack Johnson, throwback Lizzo, acoustic covers of 2000s pop hits. Every song sounds better with a cold soda in your hand and someone’s arm around your shoulder. And someday, one of those songs will come on the car radio and you’ll be transported back in time, to sunsets and bikinis and the flush of attraction.
With a summer fling, there’s no pressure to define the relationship. You’re at your friend’s lake house. You’re volunteering at a summer camp. You’re on a road trip detour that just happens to lead to the most attractive dive bartender you’ve ever seen.
This isn’t about long-term compatibility or matching love languages. This is about shared glances across the volleyball court. It’s about running through sprinklers and kissing on porch swings and swimming in your underwear (or skinny-dipping) at two in the morning because you both dared each other. It’s about joy, chemistry, and perfect timing.
Summer flings have a way of feeling cinematic. Maybe you fall for another student at your summer internship, bonding over late nights in the office making photocopies. Or the camp counselor from the rival team who keeps stealing your s’mores ingredients. Maybe it’s the neighbor’s hot cousin who only visits in July, or the tourist who ends up showing you around your own town like you’ve never seen it before. Maybe it’s someone you meet on the train or plane on your way somewhere, someone who shares your sunscreen, someone who doesn’t live here but feels like they could. These stories burn bright and fast, and that’s part of the magic.
Just because it’s a fling doesn’t mean you should toss all caution to the wind. Being spontaneous is great. Being respectful of your body, your health and wellbeing, is even better.
Pack condoms. Bring lube. Know where the nearest pharmacy is. Talk about STIs – not as a vibe killer, but as part of the conversation. If someone isn’t cool with that, they’re not cool enough for you, not even for a one-night thing, let alone a fling. You can be wild and wise at the same time. In fact, the best kind of hookup is one where you feel wanted, respected, and safe, both in the moment and the morning after.
Most summer flings come with an expiration date. That’s not a failure, that’s the whole point! You meet someone, you share something gorgeous, and then you part ways with a playlist, a few great photos, and a story you’ll tell your best friends every summer for the next five years (or maybe longer).
You might stay in touch. You might not. But you’ll always remember how the light hit their face at golden hour, or how your hand brushed theirs when you passed the sunscreen, or how they laughed when you both got caught in the rain.
I’ve seen what can happen when a summer fling goes on too long… The short story is, a couple I know got together after meeting in a summer tourist destination and hooking up, then ended up long-term and toxic the whole time until going through a spectacularly painful breakup. Looking back, the signs were there, and everyone side-eyed them, but they were too “Our love is real!” to actually take a good hard look at whether they were really compatible, or if they’d just got caught up in the moment. Don’t force it.
A summer fling doesn’t need to turn into something else to be meaningful. It’s not a prelude to a relationship or a test run for the real thing. It’s real because it happened, and because it mattered to you at the time. So if you’re in one now, lean in. Let it be messy and sweet and sun-kissed. Fall a little bit in love. Just enough. Then let it go when it’s time, and be grateful it happened. Because summer will end, but some kisses feel like August forever.
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