Social distancing and summer romance not a match made in heaven

Ah, yes. We can hardly let the summer go by without thoughts of that classic, the summer romance. Songs have been written about it, poets have lauded it, and young men and women have dreamt about it.

And there is something about the beach that lends itself to hand-holding, sharing intimate moments, and that age-old cry, “Run for your life,” upon waking up next to a stranger after a night on the town.

The problem today, though, is that no one really knows what romance is anymore, since the virus has restricted all the obvious definitions displayed in the past. You know, couples strolling arm in arm, a quick peck on the cheek and a duo sharing food off each other’s plates. And that’s just among the dog community.

I suppose romance changed when the personal ads came out years ago and started the movement to really put it out there in terms of what the ideal date would entail. No longer were we willing to settle for the blind date. We became the age of all or nothing. Romance is flexible.

As an example, “Single male seeks any female who can bake cakes, likes Road & Track Magazine, must be able to do 20 loads of wash a day and stirs up a mean tuna noodle casserole. I am currently pursuing a legal career specializing in appeals. Send photo and note to Kansas State Prison, Cell Block D.” 

Then we took a giant leap from personals to internet dating apps. You really don’t have to meet anyone at the beach and get all sandy; you can start the process for that summer romance either by fax or photocopy machine at the nearest pharmacy.

But here again, people ran into problems. In filling out the profiles for online dating services, it became obvious that a great many candidates couldn’t pass a lie detector test if it was administrated by their own mother. 

And you can forget about a recent picture. Unless you were into high school year book poses from the ‘50s, you would have to photoshop or at least airbrush all kinds of stuff onto the image, little things like a head of hair, and a set of teeth and gums that looked like they weren’t bought at the local variety store. So once again, we were faced with the definition of romance and how do we get there today.

Now some observers will tell you that the summer romance almost always involves the popular happy hour at the local bar. This might have been true back when, but today the image is of pouring an ounce of liquor into someone’s belly button as they’re stretched out on the bar while “Proud Mary” plays in the background. 

Unfortunately, the chance you take is that guys in bars suffer from short-term memory loss the next day. It’s scientifically explained that after downing a case of beer the brain mostly resembles the shredded documents left by a hurried politician called before a Senate hearing.

It’s true that guys are often seen leaving the bar with their new love interest, a coat rack or part of an air conditioner, mistakenly believed to be a woman, just too shy to talk a lot, but it’s all pretty harmless and chalked up to a lesson learned.

Romance in bars year ago was more accurate and predictable. Guys told you they were airline pilots, bought you a bunch of drinks with little umbrellas and then went into a complete catatonic state. Women were either pretend stewardesses or actresses. The truth was that most of those singles lived with their parents and could be found at the nearest bowling alley on a Saturday night alone.

The summer romance is still ripe around here, though. You just have to find it from six feet away and behind a mask. It probably doesn’t matter anyway, since the chances of you passing out from lack of oxygen hours ago has passed.

Perhaps the old song of Patti Page, singing of sand dunes and salty air, will just have to bring back those memories of summer romance.  Ahh … never mind, I don’t want to know what’s behind those masks,  now that I think about it.