In April, just one month before graduating from college, my boyfriend got an excellent opportunity to intern at a well-known training facility in Falmouth, Massachusetts, right on Cape Cod. He would get free housing and lots of experience so it was a no-brainer, but I, on the other hand, was a bit upset. He had another year of school and had already figured out his summer plans. We never spent the summer together due to the long distance between our homes, but had planned to do so this year. So when he made his plans, I felt somewhat betrayed that he wasn’t going to try to live where I worked. Then I realized that I did not even have a job yet so how the hell is he going to revolve his life around me. I stopped being bitter and got the motivation to look for jobs on the Cape as well.
I found a great lacrosse program, which was perfect for what I wanted to do: coach. I contacted the director and a future job was in the works. Now where would I live? Luckily a friend of mine offered up her home and I gladly accepted. Once everything was figured out, I was in total bliss. I would get to spend the summer doing what I love: coaching lacrosse and hanging out with my boyfriend in a beautiful part of the country. What was once a dream of beach days, strong drinks and Cape Cod adventures, turned into me living out of my car and sitting in Starbucks for hours on end using the free Wi-Fi.
The excitement and hype that I built up about living on Cape Cod turned into a slight need for good ole Connecticut. I remember driving over the Sagamore Bridge with butterflies in my stomach, not only because of the height but because of the pure pride and joy I got from knowing I graduated college with a plan and wouldn’t be living at home with my parents like 90 percent of my friends. Although I wasn’t living with my own parents, I was still under a roof with a dad, so the freedom of living my life exactly how I wanted wasn’t really fulfilled. I had to abide by the rules, understandably and get rid of my dog. This put me in a slump. I got another job as a waitress with my roommate and although I appreciated the money, the managers did not appreciate me. After just one month of employment, they told me I couldn’t work there anymore because my lacrosse coaching schedule was taking up too much time. Even though I was livid because that was a source of income, I was slightly relieved. I hated serving people more than anything. I had to paint a smile on my face, deal with rude foreigners and cheap old people that gave 10 percent tips.
To me, Cape Cod is overrated. No, I didn't grow up playing in the sand and having family barbecues. I didn't spend my 21st birthday barhopping on Main Street and I don't have any friends here that can take me on their boat every day so I haven't experienced the best of it. Sure, if you're on a week-long vacation at a beautiful cottage on the water it's amazing, but any beautiful cottage on the water is amazing. From what everyone has told me, they love the Cape, and I wish I could agree. Don’t get me wrong, the beaches are gorgeous, every single town has it’s own quirkiness and the food is some of the tastiest I have ever had, but when you can't drink the tap water and you’re working your ass off to pay the outrageous rent for your new tiny basement bedroom, Cape Cod isn’t all sunshine and smiles. In fact, some of my most memorable moments were spent off Cape.
Summer was not at all what I expected it to be. On a side note, I did get some much needed time with my boyfriend, and the traffic wasn't that bad.
