If there’s one thing we are grateful for it’s that our parents had the foresight to know we would need an escape from our stressful lives of working out, tanning, and pretending to be down to earth. We’re talking about our summer houses, because nothing says 'I'm better than you' quite like owning an entirely different property where you spend, at max, 4 weeks out of the year.
Summer houses are great because they allow us to get away without having to deal with the usual vacation stressors like randos and hotel staff. The maids would come in SO EARLY at our hotel in PV! So annoying! Instead, summer homes allow us to escape to areas where it’s just us, our fam, and about 10,000 of our friends and neighbors who also have vacation homes there. So much more relaxing!
In the interest of not branching out, the ideal summer house location should kind of be based on where you are from. I mean, why go to Kennebunkport when all your besties have houses in Nantucket? It’s, like, social suicide. No matter where your house is, it should always provide 3 things: good shopping, easy beach access, and, like, a golf course to send our dads to when they start asking us what we're going to do with our lives. Sticking to those 3 activities means you only have to deal with others who are also up there “just for the summer.” God forbid you like actually have to deal with a local, awk. Can you believe people actually live here year round? That’s, like, so random!
Trips to the summer house are fucking exclusive. You can basically rate how close you are to a bestie by the number of times you’ve been invited to theirs. We go up to Becca’s beach house every year. It’s, like, tradition! I mean, there’s no snub worse than NOT being invited to a bestie’s annual 4th of July regatta party. It’s basically the WASB equivalent of unfollowing someone on Insta.
So remember, betches, timeshares are for povos. Summer isn’t just a season or a state of mind, it’s also a fucking place. If you have to ask where, you can't come to The Sloppy Tuna with us!