When I was younger, I always imagined myself being whisked away in an epic summer romance. Every summer, I would take all the necessary steps to attract Mr. July tanning my skin to a sun-kissed shade of caramel, picking out the perfect sundress and creating the perfect beach waves in my hair. Yet it seemed that the harder I tried, the further away I got. All hope seemed lost—until one day I managed to snag the holy grail of summer romances: the lifeguard at my community pool.
It happened the summer before my freshman year of college. He was tall, cute, and muscular in all the right places. We had been friends for a while (in fact, he lived down the street from me) and I had developed a bit of a crush on him ever since I spotted him at the pool in those tight red swim trunks. I had developed enough courage to start to flirt with him, seeing as we were both going off to college pretty soon in different states and, you know, YOLO. I was surprised when he reciprocated (I had never really mastered the flirting game, much less the boy game in general), but hey, I sure as hell wasn’t complaining.
Things escalated after a few weeks, and pretty soon my crush and I began to see each other almost every day, but it wasn’t until a hot and humid day in early August that our relationship took a turn for the physical. I came over to his apartment complex, feeling confident in a striped sundress that showed off my curves. I patted myself on the back as he approvingly looked me up and down, giving me one of those hugs that last a little longer than usual. He smelled of chlorine and Abercrombie cologne, which as I look back on it wasn’t such a great mix, but whatever, he was cute. We both knew what was about to happen, and we both couldn’t wait to get started.
As a heavy make-out session progressed, I decided that it would be sexy to lead him out onto the balcony, which faced a semi-secluded alleyway on the side of the building. It was the perfect mix of hidden and not-so-hidden, but the possibility of someone looking up and noticing our little tryst made the whole thing feel even hotter.
Sooner than I expected, thanks to those exciting teenage hormones, I was on my knees giving the best performance of my life. Everything was going swimmingly, until I looked up mid-blow and saw that the building’s surveillance camera was pointed straight at my face. Immediately I stopped, and told Mr. Lifeguard about the camera (which, of course, got him softer than a melting vanilla cone in the blazing summer heat) and headed into his living room to freak out.
Luckily for me my boy toy’s uncle just so happened to be the superintendent of the building, and he had access to all of the security footage—including the ones on a balcony.
After an awkward end to a painfully awkward night, I freaked out for about an hour in my room, horrified at the idea of his uncle reviewing the tape and discovering his nephew’s innocent antics. He was also freaking out, which I could tell by his keeping at a distance and answering my texts with three words or less.
Weeks went by with no sign from his uncle that we’d been caught, which gave me some comfort but still left me with the uncomfortable knowledge that I have a sex tape out there. However, the day to leave for college came and went, and I still haven’t received a word on that night. Eventually, the incident faded into the background as I adjusted to the stresses of college life and found new boys to obsess over.
Nevertheless, whenever I look back on that night I can’t help but laugh at how unfortunate the whole thing was. It made for an experience to remember and one hell of a story to tell. I’ll never know if his uncle ever saw the video, but what I do know is that next time I’m feeling extra-frisky I’ll make sure to check out my surroundings before pulling out any moves I’ve read from Cosmo. Rest assured, I don’t think I’ll be having any on-camera romances any time soon, especially with freakishly tall lifeguards who wear too much cologne.