What Happens In...

This is all that comes up on a Google search anymore. Just as well. Source: Google Images

Ahhh summer. Time for vacation. This, by definition, is a time to vacate your life. It’s time to leave the gloomy, miserable, day-to-day goings-on of home and go somewhere shiny and new. It’s time to forget the sad loser you’re stringing along at home and find someone to remind you for a short time that you’re worthy of love (or something). Right? Right??

Wrong. Nobody really knows what happened to the real men, cowboys who shot guns and chewed tobacco and told Miss Kitty, “No, no, I will not marry you. I need my freedom.”  (They were very formal.) You know, men who did all those disgusting things women pretended to hate but secretly really, really loved. No, today men get pedicures and buy carnations and use brand-name lotion and shampoo (no more 2-in-1 Pert for them, it’s just awful for your hair). Men can only vaguely recall the phrase about something staying where it happened…that can’t be it, can it? Love knows no geographical boundaries! All they need is love! They’ll make it work!

So does Vegas need a new catchphrase? In this androgynous culture, does what happens in _____ stay in ______? (Yes, my belief is this phrase should be adopted to include all vacation spots.)

Men were once the arbiters of this phrase. Starry-eyed women would go off on trips with their friends in the hopes of meeting the perfect guy, who would no doubt end up moving back with them to their hometown after a quick long distance relationship after which he deemed their separation ‘intolerable’. Instead, men would promise all sorts of magical wonder only to vanish the next day, dashing the girls’ hopes and restoring the world to order.

Some guys may grunt, “Only one night for me. Kevin want no relationship.” (This hearkens back to the caveman era. Just like when guys ask each other if they want to eat with a low, guttural “LUNCH!” That’s what happens, right?) Anyway, to them I pose this question. If the fabled one-night mentality still exists, why do girls run into someone every vacation trying to text, poke, friend, voicemail and message their way into their hearts? Yes, EVEN IN VEGAS.

For the record, don’t worry men, there is assuredly still a large group of you who act like Jon Hamm in Bridesmaids. For the rest of you, though…

Most, if not all, of the dissolution of the phrase can be attributed to Facebook. You know, the social website. The one where you can talk to all your supercool frenemies from high school, your mom’s friends, your crazy aunt, and now your would-be forgotten Lover. (This phrase is a catch-all, spanning all bases from a mere dance to, well, to quote Ke$ha, “…” No, I can’t bring myself to do that. You get it.) 

Just when you begin to store away the pictures, sunscreen and fond memories of frolic, you’ll get a friend request. Only, and this is important, you’re NOT friends. You’re Lovers. Temporal Lovers, at that. Remember how you only had alcohol in common?

This communication will slowly eat away at those happy vacation memories. The struggle to rendezvous betwixt the inhabitants of two far-off lands will drive you crazy. (If you care about them at all. If you don't, their struggle to rendezvous will still drive you crazy.) And one year later, you'll get a poke (UGH) (UGH) (UGH) from said Lover that will finally prompt you to fling yourself from your office window and take one final vacation.  BTW: Don't come crying to me when Moses wants to see you again back on the new earth. You've been warned.