Spring Break. 21, Single and in Daytona Beach. Those seven days are really quite a blur. Memories in the recesses of my mind, tucked neatly away- only to re-surface when absolutely required. I suspect I may not be the only one with foggy details of that week. I know for sure I didn't participate in the thong contest.... or the wet t-shirt contest... or lined up for the shot contest. Uggh... at least I don't think I did.
The week I turned 22, and celebrated my Champagne Birthday with a blend of old and new friends was the week I knew I was finally over my first love. The week I longed to live life with reckless abandon. The week I discovered I actually had a slinky sexual side, and it was alright to be impulsive.
I returned home from Holiday with most of my dignity, a new outlook on life, and a meter long fuschia colored drink container disguised as a bong with "Daytona" slapped on its side like a bumper sticker to eternally remind me of the celebration.
As I look back, 22 and single was fabulous. Discovering myself just that much more and learning not to care about what anyone one else thought, was even better.
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