is it ever casual?

Song of the week: The Subway by Chappell Roan.

Summer flings. Fleeting, hot and heavy, confusing. Full of surprises, yet also almost annoyingly predictable, with a side of casual cruelty. Hello, and good morning to you as well. I hope your summer was kind to you and that you were able to tick everything off your bucket list (if you had one, maybe that’s just me).

I felt like getting a little bit personal when writing this post. It was an intense summer working abroad. I entered my twenties, met a whole bunch of crazy new people, and made many stupid decisions. My July and August were spent working in Saint Tropez, which meant either hectic days at various beach clubs on the one day off we had per week or lazy mornings at Plage de la Ponche before we started our shifts at four, six or eight in the evening. Six-day workweeks and finishing at three in the morning is far from ideal, but the people I was working with (and also living with) made the long hours bearable and dulled the exhaustion. I tried a lot of new things this summer, like living away from home and with strangers for the first time, biking to work every day, iced coconut matcha lattes, and casual dating. Although there was some discussion and controversy this summer about the existence of casual relationships. And I still couldn’t tell you. Honest.

There’s something so infuriating and frustrating about the idea of a casual relationship, something that makes you want to go aaaaggghhhh. I mean, the very definition of a relationship is the way two people are connected (thank you, Google), whether it's familial, platonic, or romantic. Yet, when you put the word “casual” in front of it, it’s instantly supposed to mean that you shouldn’t get emotionally involved under any circumstances, which can be mind-bogglingly challenging. Especially if you avoid discussing anything concrete with the other person involved. And my tendency to overthink every tiny moment in a conversation and then panic over my own actions, words, facial expressions or anything else one can do when interacting with another human being means that this attempt I made at being cool, casual and nonchalant with a boy was sometimes unnecessarily stressful. And for no reason too, since in two months I would return to my real life. Literally. Long story short, I’ll never know if it was ever casual. He and I were never on the same page, a reality that became painfully clear towards the end of whatever we were as we realised we would never, ever fit into each other’s lives back in London and Marseille. Nothing ended badly; if anything, we managed to figure out what the loose ends were that we needed to sort, and we left everything tied up in a neat little bow by the end of August.

It turns out that the saying, “when you assume you make an ass out of you and me”, is wildly accurate. As someone who had never been in any romantic relationship prior to this summer, the years of daydreaming and imagining and listening to friends’ anecdotes led me to the conclusion that romantic relationships are no big deal, just friendships with a little more physical activity :) But I could not be more wrong. I learned a lot this summer, the biggest lesson being that talking is, in fact, vital. I sound stupid and naïve, I know. But it turns out that it is crucial and necessary to get things off your chest; to open up and make situations as straightforward as possible, and of course, to be honest, for at least your own peace of mind. Things get tricky and sensitive when the heart and romantic attraction are involved, so, at least if you take the first step and say everything on your mind, you know you tried. You’ve been loud, brave and done your part in making things clear, and as long as you know you were honest about everything you said, you’ll be okay.

After coming home, returning to some sense of normalcy and actually having time to reflect, I realise that perhaps our summer together would have been more carefree, more fun, more relaxed if we had just spoken about “us” from the beginning. Because whether we liked it or not, there was an us. No matter the lack of a label you put on a casual relationship, it is a relationship. For us, it was two months of seeing each other every day at work, then every night, sharing mutual friends, spending our one day off per week together, and living literally next door- it’s intense. But from the beginning, we seemed to automatically assume that each other “got it”, and it turned out neither of us “got it”. If you’ve ever worked seasonally, or actually just ever in hospitality, it is impossible to keep anything going on at work a secret, so of course, everyone knew about him and me. Which was expected; we didn’t mind. It wasn’t like we were the only ones dating, but with the few people I confided in, all of them were surprised we hadn’t remotely defined what we were to each other. There was another waiter, Joseph, who was in a pretty similar situation to mine. One August evening, we were sent on our ten-minute break at the same time, and he proved very helpful. We were sitting on these flights of stairs next to the big delivery entrance, scoffing down portions of sushi rice seasoned with spicy mayo, soya sauce, spring onions, and sesame seeds, when he asked me how things were going with the chef I was dating. And the only semblance of an honest answer I could offer was “I don’t know”. And he laughed. And said, “Ah, me too”. We fell into fits of laughter. We marvelled at how we had both wound up in similar situations. In three weeks, I was heading back to London, while the chef would remain until the end of the season, then go home to Marseille, while Joseph’s friend would be leaving a month after me and returning to Paris. Then Joseph would head to Val-d’Isere to spend the winter season at his home. Joseph told me he’d done this before; the whole casual thing was something he was all too familiar with. And he encouraged me, no, urged me to have an honest conversation with the guy before I left.

Honestly, I was happy to hear it. It meant I wasn’t crazy. Perhaps I wasn’t even overthinking anything. It was perfectly reasonable for me to want an honest conversation with him before I left; it wasn’t asking for too much or being too “girlfriend-y” for whatever we were, as I was receiving no reassurance from the other half of this casual relationship. I hated that my mind was actually exhausted. As I mentioned, I hadn’t experienced anything like romance, and while I always sympathised, I never quite understood why my friends were sometimes so drained and distracted by these boys. Now I get it. It is draining, exhausting, and maddening to have your mind swamped with questions about what you could have done to make someone disappear for days, only to be then greeted with a genuine smile and forehead kisses with no explanation. Or wonder what on Earth they think about you leaving, for good? Or if they’re even thinking about that, and you at all? But are they not thinking about you leaving as a defence mechanism, like maybe they don’t want to think about you going because they do like you, or is it a situation where they couldn’t care less?

But, you see, my problems this summer circled back to one solution: actually opening up my mouth and talking candidly and sincerely. And I hate to admit it, but I didn’t even succeed. I was too afraid in the end. Come the end of August, it was he who confronted me about my leaving and even admitted we should’ve said something before. But it was too late. I said before that we did manage to work things out, and whatever was between us will just forever remain in Saint Tropez, maybe to be forgotten or looked back on fondly; I don’t care anymore. Everyone was right: things become much simpler — or at least allow the dust to settle — when you speak honestly. Because we all have feelings we are entitled to feel, whether the other person feels the same or not. And it is healthy to make them aware, because you actually have no idea what’s going on in a person’s mind. Assuming and allowing yourself to spiral out of control by thinking the worst just complicates everything for no reason. But that’s what I’m guilty of, and have been for a long time. I hate talking. It’s terrifying and makes you vulnerable. So, this summer actually did me a lot of good. It forced me to confront a lot of things about myself- finally. I was proven correct on another matter, though, that romantic relationships really are not everything. This summer, I was incredibly lucky to meet some of the best girlfriends a girl could ever ask for, who made everything easy and were the best listeners and the best people to spend or waste time with, to talk to, whether it’s useless chatter and gossip or warm heart-to-hearts. This summer further proved that female friendship is heartwarming and good for the soul, something I already knew, but I got to learn all over again.

I will forever cherish and think about my twentieth birthday—at Plage de L’Escalet in Ramatuelle; snoozing, paddle-boarding and drinking. It was a hazy, cheerful day full of champagne, over-the-top loud celebrations and conversation aplenty when we weren’t all mesmerised by water so blue you could mistake it for laundry water. Despite how perfect in so many ways this whole summer was, nothing will top that day. I celebrated this major milestone with Megan, Maël, Rachael and May, who were the best people to enter my twenties with. All of their infectious, loud, bright personalities blended so well that it meant I could just sit back and enjoy their company and humour. Maël and Megan supplied enough snacks to feed twice as many of us; one of every kind of pastry you could imagine, cans and cans of fresh orange juice, antipasti and apricots galore, while Rachael provided the strawberries and rosé champagne. And I had only known these people for three weeks. I felt unbelievably blessed to be so spoiled and loved on my birthday by people I was still getting to know, but in the end, we all loved that day. And it wasn’t just me who was “new” to this group of people I had thrown together; the rest of them had only known each other since April. Rachael had come to Saint Tropez all the way from Sydney, May from Dubai and Megan and Maël, while both from Paris, didn’t know each other before this summer. It wasn’t just my birthday that sparked a genuine friendship among us. As the summer progressed and the sun burned brighter, we spent more time together outside of work hours: mornings at the beach in Sainte-Maxime, drinks at Ciao Rino after closing the restaurant and discussing plans for after the season. Rachael is off to Paris for the winter, armed with the guidance of Megan and Maël, who will be visiting London in November with lists they’re expecting me to answer with no less than the best (think best cocktail spot, best fish and chips, and best Sunday roast). Then, I will definitely be back to Paris, one of my favourite places I have ever travelled, to see all of them!!

While this summer was rosy and romantic, it was simultaneously cruel and confusing, but, honestly, I will remember him fondly. We had many a good time, and, as I mentioned, the whole situation is wrapped up and will forever remain in Saint Tropez —immortalised as a summer romance, or fling, he’d maybe prefer. But honestly, the romantic part of this summer was barely the main event; in fact, it was not even close. If anything, I can now wholeheartedly concur with Carrie Bradshaw when she said that “maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with” after this summer. Because, you know what, he and I did have a lot of fun, in many different ways, and he forced me to find the courage to have honest conversations, despite a fear of rejection and the unknown. He’s also given me material for this blog… after all, a writer is supposed to immerse themselves in new situations to write authentically and keep things fresh :) But it was the friendships I formed that will forever mean the most, regardless of what happens in the future. Never had I become so comfortable and at ease around new people so quickly; perhaps it was the novelty of being away from home for the first time and the fear of loneliness, but I don’t think so.

Lots and lots of love from a grey and already Autumnal London & see you in Paris and Barcelona, Saint Tropez girlies,

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